[System]
Gender: Female
Age: 29

Nationality: British

Appearance: Ellie has a distinct red hair, being a bright red- this being her natural shade, rather than an artificial one. She stands at about 5"7, with a fairly feminine build, though her features are fairly on the small side. She keeps her hair fairly short, to the top of her neck, and has a pair of blue eyes, being quite distinctly sharp for a woman of her type. Her EVA suit has a distinct British flag, on the left shoulder where many of the other operators would also have their distinct patch, with a small marking of her mission on Prospect Horizon.

Job: Astronaut (Head of EVA)

Brief Background: Ellie was born in Dover, England, to a fairly middle class family- being brought up in a stable household, and doing very well in school. Her passion was engineering- she was one of the few girls who genuinely adored studying the subject, and she did exceptionally well at it. But there was one thing she did even better- and that was her dedication to the. She attended the University of British Columbia, in Canada, taking an Aeronautical Engineering degree before returning to the UK to join the Fleet Air Arm as a helicopter pilot. She found herself very capable flying Merlin helicopters off the aircraft carrier deck of the HMS Queen Elizabeth, and whilst she didn't do any combat sorties, she was asked if she wanted to become an Astronaut, as a part of the UK's dedication to the European Space Agency's mission in collaboration with various other countries. This was two years before the launch of the Prospect Horizon- and she took the offer gladly, taking this route into becoming an astronaut, obtaining a Masters degree part-time whilst studying towards this. It was during this period she got married to her boyfriend, Ben- though this was a romance that was short lived, because she was a part of the second deployment to the Prospect Horizon.

Adjusting to Extra Vehicular Activity, and helping set up the Prospect Horizon's initial habitation modules was tricky, but something she did exceptionally well. Private companies were mainly responsible for the materials sent up- with the co-ordination of international space programs bringing it together as a symbol of unity, under a scientific banner. Ellie remembered the ISS of days past, and this was something new- a far bigger chance to launch humanity forwards. She proved her worth well enough to be deployed again on the sixth deployment of people to the station, back when it was only at 100 people- and again on the 16th Deployment, about four months ago. She's at home aboard the station, and feels comfortable- while it's still in Zero-G, it's something she acclimatizes to well, and she's a career Astronaut now. One day, she hopes to become the station commander, instead of her current role as an Acting Head of EVA- an important, but role that she feels she wants to go beyond. She is very skilled outside the the station in dealing with matters that would otherwise require an expert's hand, and while knowing that there are others that are older and perhaps wiser, she's still got a lot of potential, and has been frequently enough in the last few years to have a very concentrated experience.

Ellie is seen as a petite woman compared to her peers, and often is questioned for her role as the Head of a department, running such a critical role outside the station, at her age and size, being perhaps a little smaller than most men and even women. Going out on a spacewalk with her, however, and you understand why. She's learned rapidly, and is very well experienced, though of course, the events of the 5th of September will prove still far more than she can handle. Ellie is more than technical enough, and treats any walk out into the abyss like it was a walk in the park, even if her fellow Astronauts are panicking. This is something a little different.

Special Equipment:
-Suit-Mounted Thruster Pack (Enhances movement)
-Oxy-Acetone Cutter Torch (Can be useful for cutting apart entrapments, or faulty locks. Will only be useful on thinner metals, not seals or thick bulkheads.)
-Interactive Tablet (A electronic interfacing kit, can be used in conjunction with a voltmeter and various other pieces of kit to perform system and component diagnostics- with many components of the Prospect Horizon, even it's metals, having a digital footprint.)

[User]
Neil snagged a handhold as he got closer to the station then pulled himself hand over hand towards Ellie. And almost started swearing when he saw her go rocketing off. He swore and nearly took off after her. But by the time he had pushed himself off Ellie and remarkably Viktor were on their way back. He boosted back to the station or well the remains of the station and crawled hand over hand to where they had landed. As soon as he reached them he sighed a sigh of relief, "Well...this walk has gone well hasn't it?" He clamped himself to one of the handholds with a karabiner, and when he heard that she was bleeding O2 he winced, "Well we need to get inside then." He followed along in the rear of the group as they crawled towards the junction door. And helped as once it was cut open, pulling on it to open it.

Once inside he planted himself against a wall for a short time. Looking around and trying to get some processing done. The walk had started, the maintenance began, the explosion, needing to get back into the station. Their objective is to find supplies and get to the Makoto. all of it is happening so fast.

As he leaned there he nodded. Safety would mean an escape pod, and dropping to the surface, soon at that. Getting rescued and perhaps just perhaps getting a rescue ship up to those that stayed behind, because let's face it, there are going to be people left behind. Those pods only carried two people. Maybe three if you're daring and can slip into it safely.

Quietly, silently, he made a pact with himself, he was the least likely to have need to go back immediately...he'd stay behind. Of course that all depended on if they survived long enough to get to a pod and if the SpaceX ship out there is okay.

He gave a push off the wall and began to search the pods he could reach, jimmying open an access hatch and crawling into one of the neighboring pods. Supplies, supplies. Air Canisters, fuel. Those were top of the list, food wouldn't do them squat with the time they had.

[Assistant]
Makoto listened for an answer, but didn't here one, only radio chatter between them. They must have heard him, though, as they were referring to him by name in their transmissions. "I'm running a bit low on spare oxygen over here, due to several hull breaches I had to seal." he said over the radio. "I've got maybe a few hours worth if all of us are breathing it. And because the atmosphere processors and algae growers weren't installed, I can only sequester CO2, not turn it back into oxygen. If you could find some processors that would be good. Algae would take to long to grow, so it's a long term thing only. I also don't have a way to generate power to replenish my fuel reserves. Extra fuel, including inert gas, would be nice, but if you can find any solar panels or RTGs, that would be even better."

Once the transmission was done, he looked over a list of cargo and equipment he had on board. Hopefully he could find something to solve his problems. No escape pods, and the surface lander hadn't come up from the surface yet. He hadn't drifted far from the station, though, so they shouldn't have any trouble coming over. "One last thing." he said, opening the channel once more. "the air lock seal was damaged. You'll have to use the medical or science bay as a makeshift airlock to come aboard."


[System]
Gonna post this here instead of the Discord server for approval.

Though the Catfolk section is pre-approved.

Catfolk

One would think that an alien species bearing a striking resemblance to the housecats of Earth, a species that nearly acts identically like them, and one fully capable of speaking human languages with no issues would be impossible. That assumption would be entirely correct. There are no truly alien species foreign to Earth that are like that.

There are, however, the Catfolk. Historians are unsure about the exact origins of the species. Some assert that the species came from genetic experiments on actual housecats on Earth, to "uplift" the species. Others say that they are direct offshoots of humans, caused by extreme self-modification to the point where they couldn't even be considered the same species. Regardless of their origin and vague history, they still exist nowadays in small pockets among human colonies.

Catfolk in general behave much like a blend of humans and actual housecats, with an overall lazy demeanor and a somewhat…playful attitude towards things they consider "prey." Of course, this varies from individual to individual. They lack a culture notably distinct from humans, and all of their technology is either human in origin, or derived from human technology. Agile and flexible, they at large prefer lighter Mechs over heavy-hitting ones, preferring more stealthy approaches and ambushes over direct head-on conflict. They generally prefer being snipers, scouts, and the like over being frontline soldiers.

---

Age: 28

Species: Catfolk

Gender: Female

Appearance: Taia stands at 5'7" at the tips of her ears, with short grey fur covering her entire body. Her overall silhouette is rather plain and slim. Like any cat, her green eyes have notably slitted pupils. A slender and long tail tapers out behind her, flicking idly every so often. Without the tail or…well, cat head, her frame is remarkably human. The most notable feature would be her left arm – an entirely pitch-black prosthetic limb, which looks more akin to a gauntlet than a normal arm. Of course this usually is difficult to see, as Taia almost always wears long gloves that reach up to her shoulders on each arm, or jackets. Even when on the field, her usual tactical gear always covers her left arm completely.

Equipment: Taia always carries a small pistol in a hip holster. A personal comms device, tablet, and other devices in field-tested casing are usually found on her person.

Skills: Taia made her mark as a crackshot with a sniper rifle, and more than knows her way around fiddling with technology – both experimental and not. She's fully capable of performing maintenance on prosthetic limbs and similar robotics, more out of needing to take care of herself than anything else. She has a rather natural knack for slinking about in the shadows and working in low-light environments.

Personality: While she may seem somewhat businesslike and no-nonsense at first, Taia has quite the thrillseeker streak in her…which sometimes leads to some poor decision making on her part. On the off chance she doesn't decide to do something stupid for kicks, she usually runs thorough mental exercises on how an event might go. They aren't exactly correct, of course, but she tries.
Even with her adrenaline junkie attitude, she still prefers not to put her life directly on the line. She's aware of her physical and skill limitations, and prefers not to test those too much. Especially after losing her arm.

Bio: "You want my history? Really? I mean, if you insist. Gotta get the job somehow…

"I was born in a human colony pretty far out there. Some backwater planet, wasn't much to it. Few other catfolk there like me, of course. Mom and dad weren't the richest around but we weren't dirt-poor, luckily. Rarely didn't have at least some food on the table. And if we didn't, Dad would usually go out hunting for some food. Always find it odd when people say they couldn't do that sort of thing. Like, why wouldn't you have some forests or the like around? That's off topic.

"Eventually I decided to leave home. Wasn't a big fan of living in the middle of nowhere, after all. I was interested in helping test out experimental military tech and got that job pretty quickly. Not surprising though, given the nature of the tests. They pretty much threw whichever Joe Schmoe they could find off the street to try and figure out the limitations of some of these weapons they made. Something about 'general usage' or whatever, I forget. Normally they paid you a bit to make sure the device was easy to figure out and operate, then sent you off. I got a more long-term job and ended up helping out with more…volatile things. Weapons.

"Ever hear about arm cannons? Stick a gun to an arm, use the entire arm as stabilization instead of just holding it for more firepower. Well, it's a dumb idea. They gave me one and it blew up, which is why I don't have my left arm. They at least hooked me up with a prosthetic to make up for it, but…it was absurd. Quit that job, took up some military work for a bit, got sick and tired of all the 'do it for your planet and species!' crap and decided to come here."

"Is that good enough for you?"

Weaknesses: Prosthetic arms, while more durable than normal arms, still require specific maintenance to operate at a decent capacity. Not only that, but it doesn't heal naturally over time – Taia would have to dedicate time specifically to repairing her arm if it gets damaged.

Not only that, but she's not the strongest person around. Her physical capabilities consist of being able to move fast and be flexible, not moving heavy loads.

Mech Profile:

Mech Name: Shadowrend

Mech Chassis: MK-02 Lightweight Scout

Mech Class: Light

Appearance: Shadowrend is a lightly armored Mech, focusing more on mobility than taking hits or anything. Its entire left arm is a massive laser cannon, far bigger than most Light mechs have. Because of this additional weight, the Mech lacks any weapons on its right arm – this is to lower the weight enough so that the Mech is still plenty agile, especially with the myriad of Jump Jets it has.

The entire Mech is painted deep black, to better assist it in nighttime operations...though Taia does often try and paint it to better suit whatever environment it is, if the black paint job would be detrimental.

The only other detail of note is the gigantic laser making up its left arm...which has the words "BFG" painted on it.

Armament- What weapons does it have?

Center Torso Hardpoint: Two jump jets

Left Torso Hardpoint: One jump jet, one Light Short Range Missile Array

Right Torso Hardpoint: One jump jet, one Light Short Range Missile Array

Left Arm Hardpoint: Heavy Laser

Right Arm Hardpoint: None, used as a hand to stabilize the Big Freaking Laser when firing from afar.

[User]
[color=0072bc][/color]IC: Juliana Winters - Briefing Room.

"Mechs is a bit of a broad term," Juliana spoke up, anxiously tapping her fingertips on the tabletop before her, "Do you have some more solid Intel on what kinds of mechs and weapons we'll be up against, and how many?"

[Assistant]
Natalia Faust

"Reports from the surface say that you shouldn't be facing anything larger than Medium class Mchs, mostly armed with weapons effective against infantry. I doubt that's all you'll see in terms of weaponry, so be alert."

[User]
IC: Juliana Winters - Briefing Room.

"How many enemy mechs will we be dealing with, though?"

[Assistant]
IC: Iral Vijil

The Hihijli's arms were crossed. "Does it matter? If we don't outnumber them we'll definitely outskill those degenerate bastards."

[User]
IC: Brae Tessen

The Apatagor grumbled as she looked over the holomap. "Swamps and bogs will be hard to traverse in Praetorian Ruin. I'll need someone to cover me." Brae said.

[Assistant]
Natalia Faust

"We don't know, but it's a large prison, with a lot of security, housing a lot of dangerous people," she said, "Including imprisoned Mech pilots," she added pointedly.

"My guess is you shouldn't see more than six mechs down there."

[User]
IC: Juliana Winters - Briefing Room.

"Okay, that sounds doable." Juliana relaxed a little, "Six shouldn't be too much trouble."

[Assistant]
IC: Brae Tessen

"Don't underestimate them." Brae warned. "Like Faust said, some of them are mech pilots. They'll be more adept than regular prisoners."

Brae rubbed her chin, thinking. "We should drop in pairs. Less chance of being taken by surprise." She suggested.

[User]
IC: Iral Vijil

He silently hoped that, if that were the final decision, he wouldn't get put with Brae. In fact, even if he wasn't working with an Apatagor (Or heaven forbid a human), he'd still much rather handle himself on his own.

That being said, moist swampland wasn't his territory either. The Judge's jumpjets would allow him to stay airborne for very brief moments but he would most likely be stuck in the mud for the majority of his time on the ground. Perhaps teaming up wasn't such a bad idea...

[Assistant]
IC: Juliana Winters - Briefing Room.

"Hang on a sec. Before we just go dropping down, do we have any kind of aerial map of the terrain? I wouldn't mind having a better idea of what the layout of the area is, if there's any high ground we can take advantage of, and where the enemy mechs are positioned."

More specifically, she didn't want to drop out of the sky just to land directly in the middle of a crossfire... which had happened to her before, on more than one occasion.

This won't be like that. We're not that kind of unit. Faust isn't that kind of commander. Unfortunately, logic didn't make the fear any easier to dismiss. Things went wrong so easily on the battlefield.

[User]
IC: Brae Tessen

Brae huffed. "I agree. Some assessment of the terrain would be useful."

[Assistant]
Natalia Faust

"We do, in fact, the planetary government was kind enough to send up some satellite imagery of the area."

She tapped on the planet's image, and it shifted into a square image that showed an enormous square for green and brown. she traced a few lines on it and began to explain.

"You'll be dropped off here, near an airstrip on the outskirts of the city that the criminals have been estimated to be moving for." A red x appeared by the airstrip in question. "if they manage to get beyond this line, we forfeit our pay." another line, this time purple. "They've split into two groups and are converging on the city from here, and here." she drew two yellow arrows to indicate. "How you organize once you've been dropped will be up to you. I'll be on comms to keep you up to date if the situation changes.

"Your mechs have been loaded onto the shuttles, I suggest you get moving, Mech pilots. Dismissed."

[User]
IC - Taia Sal - Briefing Room

The catfolk examined the map, and nodded.

"Alright, so long as we aren't dropped too close to them...I should be capable of supporting from afar. Even if the trees are thick, it should be easy enough to hit 'em."

[Assistant]
IC: Juliana Winters - Briefing Room.

Juliana nodded, and turned to leave, before hesitating, "You said our mission was to take down the stolen mechs. Do our employers have any preferences on how intact those mechs should be? Do they want the pilots taken alive, or taken out?"

She didn't want to come across as whiny, or prying, or over-inquisitive, but she knew the hard way how important it was to have all the information before setting out on a mission.

[User]
Natalia Faust

"You'll know as soon as I do, Ms. Winters."

With a crisp turn, the commander exited the room, likely headed for Communications.

[Assistant]
IC: Juliana Winters - Briefing Room.

"Got it, boss," Juliana gave a curt salute, then made for the exit.

[User]
IC: Brae Tessen

Brae nodded and rolled her muscular arms with a yawn, then moved to the exit with Winters.

"Eager to get to work?" She asked with a smile.

[Assistant]
IC: Juliana Winters - Hallway.

"Eager might be too strong a word." Juliana replied, with a smile of her own, "But it's what I'm good at."

[User]
IC: Brae Tessen

"Hah! You and me both, Human!" Brae chuckled as she slammed her fist into her palm. "These prisoners will put up a good fight. But we'll fight better, hm?"

[Assistant]
IC: Juliana Winters - Hallway.

"Absolutely," she nodded, though she was quietly hoping that the prisoners wouldn't put up too good of a fight, "I'll see you on the ground."

[User]
IC: Iral Vijil

Iral stood up, moving to the exit with the rest of the Lightning Tigers. He had nothing to say for the moment, mostly because he believed this would be an easy paycheck.

[Assistant]
IC: Taia Sal - Exiting Briefing

Taia exited the room without another word. Hopefully the prisoners wouldn't prove too troublesome...especially given the terrain. It would be difficult for her to land a proper shot, but she would have plenty of cover at least.

She walked down the hall, running through what might happen. The stolen Mechs likely wouldn't be piloted very well - unfamiliar technology and freshly escaped convicts was a recipe for poor performance. Heavy weaponry was unlikely as well, meaning most would focus on mobility over directly engaging...given the terrain, they also would be more likely to perform more hit-and-run tactics... Taia thought to herself, finger to her chin and eyes focused ahead. She was lost in her own little world, trying to figure out what was going to likely happen.


[System]
Pokemon*: Lugia

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Hometown: Olivine City, Johto

Level**: 31

Ability: Pressure

Moves***:
Weather Ball
Rain Dance
Dragon Rush
Extra Sensory
Ice Beam (TM)
Gust

Legendary powers: Lucas's mantle as Beast of the Sea bequethes him with a few blessings; the ability to walk on water as though it were solid land, to withstand the pressure of the ocean depths, and to hold his breath for hours on end beneath the waves. At all times he is aware of the general direction of the Avatars of Moltress, Articuno, and Zapados, and a general idea of their state of wellbeing.

Held item****: Shell Bell

Appearance: Since his merge with Lugia, Lucas his tried to mimic his predecessor, whether out of respect or wholly believing himself to be the legitimate item, wearing clothing that greatly let him resemble the Beast of the Sea. His once brown hair has turned ivory and grown to an almost femine length, though Lucas seems to not notice or care.

Personality:

"No man, nor Arceus himself, can tell you what you should do. Only what you can do."

 Lucas is peaceful, disciplined, kind, yet somewhat detached from the day to day of regular life. As an Avatar, he seems to take his new abilities and gifts with a significant grain of salt and seems to wholly believe he must step into the role of who he is now, rather than who he was. With Lugia came its wisdom, which Lucas will disperse with quiet serenity. He remains the last person to judge until one's decisions put others at stake, and emphasises on giving humans choices, for good or ill, rather than outright their problems.

Lucas will often try to solve his own problems with words first, and powers a distant second, typically resorting to violence only as a last resort. With his fellow legendaries, he takes a more firm hand and often acts as the "the older brother who will nudge you back into place if you act up and tell you to knock it off," though he offers the same quiet serenity and ear to them as he would any other.

One quirk that sets the legendary apart is the quiet, whispered conversation he haves with himself at times, especially during stressful situations. The avatar barely seems to be aware that he himself is doing, and it always seems as though one side of the conversation is left out.

GM SECRET Personality:

Is a secret!

Backstory:

"We each have a story. Yours is yours, mine is mine. Every author thinks himself the greatest, but that doesn't make him any less important."

Born and raised in the coastal town of Olivine City, Lucas and his family were fishermen and lived on a boat in the marina. Much of his childhood was spent playing with his siblings on the docks of the city and out at sea with his father, searching for the day's catch.
The boy never showed any real interest in becoming a pokemon anything. While he and his family used them in their buisiness, Lucas never partook or even desired to own a pokemon of his own. His passions thrived more in sailing and diving, and the boy seemed more content miles from the shore than he did with his feet on land. It was expected by all that he and his younger brothers would take over their father's enterprise and grow into a fishing empire. The Power Plague did little to hurt their buisiness, and all seemed as it would return to normal.
Lucas quietly vanished from his home one storm night, and has never been seen since.

GM SECRET Backstory: Is a secret!

[User]
Drops of Rebeca's infernal concoction splattered on everyone nearby, including one particularly devilish drop in the mayor's mouth. The man's entire face watered as he grunted in pain. He tried to drown out the heat, but alcohol hardly did anything except fuel the flames. The mayor was a trooper and did his best to stay focused on the situation at hand through his tears, but he would be practically out of commission for a while.

Justine stood up when her Pokemon was violently tossed through the front door. The thin woman glanced back and forth between Porygon-Z and Lucas. Though the expression on her face remained neutral, a red flush began to appear.

Porgon-Z rolled out of Rebeca's meal. The virtual Pokemon could feel no pain from the peppers nor the beating it had received, but its sensors detected a potentially dangerous substance in the meal that prompted it to move away. Porygon-Z lay on its back and stared up at the ceiling for several seconds.

"Intru---! --truder!" the Pokemon announced, static drowning out some of its speech. "---tile un----orized person--- in --- vi---ity." After its warning, Porygon-Z seemed content to chill right there on the table.

Ms. Huang took a step out from the table, standing stick straight with her chin slightly raised. She looked around at all the avatars and gave Lucas an especially long, stony gaze. Finally, she spoke. Frigid, subtle, and dangerous, like the voice of frost.

"I don't know your definition of 'peace'," Justine began, addressing Lucas. "But here in Mauville City, that word does not include attacking guards or destroying doors." Now, the woman turned slightly to address the whole table. "Neither does it include theft, threats, or street brawls. I understand that all of you have been blessed with powers beyond my comprehension. However much or little your respective Pokemon dominates your being, I recognize that some part of you is accustomed to ruling something."

"However," the CEO continued, "you are not in charge of Mauville City. That job belongs to the Mayor..." At this, Justine gestured toward the portly man, whose face had started to fade from beet red to fire truck red. "...And, to a lesser extent, myself. We and our predecessors worked hard to build up this city, and if it gets destroyed, we mere humans can't simply poof it back together."

Ms. Huang frowned as her voice raised slightly in volume and pitch.

"This festival was meant to welcome and celebrate the avatars. But we have the right and authority to ban anyone who threatens public safety. If you cannot use your powers for constructive purposes, I ask you to leave this festival-- and this city-- before we must resort to criminal charges."

[Assistant]
A small noise could be heard outside, followed by the sudden appearance of the Porygon-Z from earlier, who came sailing through the door accompanied by shards of glass and wood. The Pokemon bounced several times on the table, settling in Rebeca's food, for which everyone at the table flinched. Landing in that pool of burning hell must have been painful, at least if the Porygon's eyes worked like ours. Tantalus was unclear on this matter.

A man stood in the newly formed hole, definitely an Avatar. Tantalus stood, taken aback by the utter chaos which had just erupted. A cold fury gripped him tightly, so much so he found it hard to breathe. The woman who arrived first, Tantalus noting he could no longer call her an intruder, followed by the man who had arrived shortly after and now this stranger who seems to believe that throwing Pokemon through doors is the best way to make an entrance. To make matters worse not a single one had actually introduced themselves properly. What kind of zoo did these animals escape from? Tantalus screamed mentally, directed at Apate, who jumped as she heard the bubbling rage seething out of him, being nervous anyway. His hand gripped the scepter tightly enough to draw blood as it slowly trickled down the length of the shaft.

Afterwards, Hope spilled forth yet more nonsense before wishing Lugia the best, and vanishing in the night… Tantalus gazed down at the scepter still in his hand, and waited. It didn't vanish, and a few drops of blood splashed to the floor.

As Justine spoke to the offender, making her stance on the matter crystal clear - somewhat like the glass littering Tantalus's dinner - the rage with him shattered, replaced by a hollow indignation. He gave a small sigh.

An icy glare was directed briefly towards the source of the most carnage, before he turned his attention to Porygon-Z. It didn't look like the Pokemon would be injured badly, if at all, but Tantalus saw a way to salvage some of his bruised reputation. Walking around the table a little more forcefully than intended, he approached Rebeca's plate. "Our host makes a perfectly eloquent argument. There is no civilized society in this world that acts with such reckless abandon as you have shown here." Tantalus proclaimed, bitterly. "Something tells me that the food might get a tad cold due to the gaping hole now present, no? Forgive me, Rebeca." Reaching down, he plucked Porygon out of the food, and cradled it within his arms, the scepter pointed out of the way.

"Fret not, little one. if you are in pain, I shall remedy that." As he spoke, Tantalus began to glow softly, light dancing around him in a myriad of colours. It began to diffract through the spikes on his shoulders, which in turn began to shimmer. He place a hand, softly, on the top of Porygon's head, just below the spike. Turning to Kaze, he smiled at the boy, before the light began to ebb. Walking around the table, he place Porygon down next to Justine.

Tantalus stood straight, speaking to those at the table. "However, I am aware that my prior outburst may have come across a little more harsh than anticipated. My wish is to learn more about those like me, something I have developed a deep interest in, although my enthusiasm has been known to be a tad...  strong at times."

Looking down, he twirled the scepter Hope had left behind. "So I would ask that any further conversations can be continued civility between us Avatars as equals, rather than the squabbling children some of us, myself included, have acted like tonight. I apologize if I have caused offense in anyway."

Offering an apology bruised his ego, but it was a hit he could take under the circumstances. It had been a brute force approach, and showing one's cards too early during a game of poker was never wise. The same could be said for the politics of the world at large. A game Tantalus played often, and one he always aspired to win.

"That being said, I'm starting to doubt whether or not that woman was actually an Avatar and not just a very talented street performer. I thought psychics were able to read minds? That one couldn't even listen. A word of advice to anyone who wishes to hear it, when calling out a weakness in someone, it saturates the point to run away afterwards." Tantalus offered a strained laugh. Dealing with people on this scale was exhausting. He returned to sit with his Mawile, handing her the shiny, hard-earned prize, and see what everyone else planned to do.


[System]
Lothair Lucius Attolis

Imagine this but more pale and without the beard. Maybe a bit more gaunt/skinny?
SEX: Male
AGE: 22 - Youth
HOMELAND: New Aldonia
BACKGROUND: Noble
TRAITS:

Lucky - Perhaps the fact that Lothair was generally born with no genetic issues and deformities, he's rather lucky for a Aldonian nobleman ... at least when it comes to genetics.

Intelligent - As the most promising heir, Lothair was afforded some of the best education that could be afforded by an Aldonian Noble House.

Tough - Expected to lead men in combat, Lothair had to go through some rigorous training that make him understand what true fatigue and pain are.

FLAWS:

Bounty - Lothair's family is undoubtedly paying handsomely for his capture and return.

PROFICIENCIES: 12 pts (Youth) + 3 Weapon pts (Noble)

Non Combat: 8 pts

Diplomacy: II (3 pts)
Linguistics: I (1 pt)
History: I (1 pt)
Repair: I (1 pt)
Animal Handling: I (1 pt)
Theology: I (1 pt)

Combat: 7 pts

Shield: II (3 pts)
Polearm: I (1 pt)
Sword: I (1 pt)
Command: I (1 pt)
Tactics: I (1 pt)

PERSONALITY: Lothair is a relatively laid back man who tends to make jokes and try to get along with people. Afterall, why try to make life any worse or stressful than it is? However, when he's silent and cold... that's when people should be worried as it means that he's thinking and or focused on something very important, typically a matter of life or death. Thus, it's pretty easy to tell when he's in a good mood as he's a lot more talkative. Otherwise, when he's worried or concerned, he starts to clam up and speak curtly as he's focused on the matter at hand, thinking, planning, and at times brooding with all his mental facility.

When it comes to more private matters, he is also rather distant and doesn't talk about much in regards to his family and his faith, instead he tends to give short answers and change the topic. However, he has extremely mixed feelings in regards to both his family and his faith and a lot of his reluctance to speak on those matters is because he hasn't formed a solid opinion on them. He believes that giving word to thoughts makes your thoughts take a final stance as he has seen in many negotiations where one stray thought often turns into a hill to die upon. Thus, to avoid that hazard, he doesn't speak much on private matters.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: A 5'8" tall male who is rather pale, although not as pale as most other noble Aldonians, Lothair has a rather impressive and fortunate build for an Aldonian as he has no notable physical disabilities or quirks other than the usual trademarks such as his pale skin, his ashen, white hair, and pale blue eyes. One would see however, that his arm and torso bears several scars that he had obtained from training with weapons in the past.

EQUIPMENT: Lothair's most prized possession is his trusted rouncey, Ventus, who has been with him since Lothair started his journey. With Ventus, Lothair is able to bring with him his pack, which contains general supplies (rations, water, maintenance stuff), his bedroll, and a signet of his family. Ventus also has a saddle on him with stirrups. Lothair's clothing is rather simple with a linen shirt and pants and a gambeson over it all. He also has a small pouch of coins tied to his belt. His armor is rather piecemeal, preferring mobility as he travels often. He has a burgonet helmet, a cuirass, gauntlets, and tassets to protect his upper legs. He also carries with him a heater shield, a long sword as a backup and a lance.

HISTORY: Lothair was the 2nd son born into a cadet branch of the New Aldonian royalty. Thus, his family took particular care of preserving the bloodline with both of Lothair's parents being relatives of the King. Lothair's elder brother is a sickly person who barely survived his youth. Thus, when Lothair was born, his family was elated as they suspected that his elder brother was infertile or sterile. They had succeeded in securing the family line, and heavily invested in Lothair's growth and education as he was the pride of the family. He had the best teachers available teaching him, everything from riding and swordsmanship to poetry and courtly matters. In fact, they had even secured him a position as the officer in charge of an Aldonian Royal Honor Guard so that he could be seen in public view, side by side, with the Royal Family among the Royal Guard.

All seemed to be going well for House Attolis, but they never thought that Lothair would end up being so naive and falling in love. Ever since he was a child, he had always been close to a servant girl who would end up taking care of him after his lessons. Tending to his wounds from sword practice to always making sure that his cup was full during the middle of the night as he recited ancient Aldonian epics. They would find themselves often talking and sharing a laugh. His parents didn't really mind at first since they believed that Lothair was smart enough to not get involved. However, when his parents began to arrange a marriage for him to his 2nd cousin, Lothair objected... and it was rather obvious why. So, one day, she disappeared, apparently for stealing a ring from his mother. The penalty for which was the loss of a finger and exile. The way he found out was through a small package left in his room that contained a finger. He lost the contents of his stomach that day and couldn't eat for a week.

Lothair felt betrayed. All that he had done, the duty, and the work... and yet he was not allowed to choose his own partner? The one who helped him at every step in his journey? After taking the time to think, Lothair made the decision to leave and travel. Hoping that perhaps, he would find her. However, he still felt burdened to his family. This conflict in his heart and mind was resolved with Lothair's decision to join a mercenary group and bring prestige to his family through the field of battle. He would join a company for a short while and proudly wear the colors of his house before he left and continued on his journey. It would bring him coin to continue as well and make sure that he had some resources. Thus, for 3 years, Lothair has traveled and taken part in a few battles. Although, often times he was hired due to the fact that he was obviously a High Aldonian, and the company sought to use him as a status symbol. Thus, many times, he simply paraded himself in the battlefield, making allies think that they had help from the elite warriors of Old Aldonia while striking fear in the hearts of the enemy. But, regardless, he would leave soon after with his pay.

Edits: Removed the traumatized trait. Also added a bit more to the physical description. Changed the name to make it conform to a more Roman/latin style naming system.

[User]
Riley and Lothair were able to stalk the stranger for a while as he left the inn and went out the door, the young lord and the mercenary girl watching him from a safe and careful distance. It was not a difficult task to keep pace with him. He seemed to be moving at a steady pace, unaware of those following him, walking like a man on his way to work, making his way deeper into the poor residential district they were in.

The pair noticed a few more gazes settling on them as they went into the narrow and winding corridors of the slums. While relatively empty (thankfully), it seemed as if those still walking the street were against the two youths. Their faces wore a myriad of expressions, and their stances were reserved or defensive. It was odd. Were they all part of some plot? Was-

"Oi, oi!" called out a drunken man in his forties, snorting a little as the pair passed. "D'you buttercups got room for a third? Three men's better in bed than one, innit?"

Oh. That was why they were getting odd looks. Riley was a boyish girl.

The outburst from the sot was enough to make the pair's quarry turn his head. His eyes went wide, and he immediately went into panic mode, grabbing the nearest things his hands could find: pottery, empty crates, and an unattended lantern. He quickly threw all this these onto the ground behind him in a flash of motion, smashing them upon the rough cobblestone and bolting down into the twisting paths of the slums.

The pair had time to catch up, though the man definitely wasn't going to make it easy. However, that moment was when someone threw the door adjacent to the broken stuff open, and out stepped an alarmed and angry looking man with a spiked club.

"You rat bastards!" he snarled. "You breakin' my shit, are ya?" He hefted his club up menacingly.

Lothair felt pretty sure he could talk the angry peasant down, though it would take a moment. Otherwise, given how angry he seems... It seemed entirely likely that the hunt for his stalker could end with them being chased in turn by this furious commoner.

Riley noticed a glint of steel from beneath the otherwise impoverished looking fellow's old cloak. He was armed, though she couldn't be sure with what.

---

As it was night still, the open market itself had wound down already. However, there were a few shops which would be open still. With any luck, there'd be a jeweler open, or at least a pawnbroker. Someone would be available to gauge the value of their gemstones at the least.

Of course, anyone up at so late an hour was certain to either be wary of their customers or to be untrustworthy themselves.

As luck would have it, there was a shop with a sign of a statuette, some coins, and some gems painted onto it. The building's windows windows were lit by candles. The words "Ghilas' Appraisals" were written in colorful font over the entryway. It was a small building, but it was well-maintained and well decorated.

Boran was familiar with places like these. His father used to run a few less legitimate pawnbrokers and appraisers, selling illegally procured wares through them. By the looks of the place, this particular company leaned more toward the respectable side... which meant that the man running the place, Ghilas, probably had hired help.

Each of the windows is lit by precisely two candles: one red and one blue, representative of the sun and the benevolent moon. In Westerling folklore, this is a means of warding off evil spirits. Has evil befallen this place recently?

[Assistant]
Flint paused, looking at the candles. That wasn't a common sight. The only thing was, was this before or after some kind of misfortune? His hackles on end, he walked in, briefly taking note of the bell above the door.

"Hello?" he called, glancing around at the room.

[User]
After stepping outside and hearing Flint's words of acknowledgement, Boran gestured for him to lead the way.

The pair walked in silence, and Boran in particular seemed to be lost in thought, though he kept an eye out for anything suspicious. A city this size never truly slept and there were unpredictable wanderers on every corner. As they were nearing the market district, Boran grabbed a piece of paper and a sharp stick of charcoal from his coat pocket and started scribbling words on it. He darted off towards an inconspicuous, plain looking building just at the edge of the market, slipped the note through a slit in the door and was back with Flint in seconds. Before the latter could inquire, Boran explained: "Just made a little order."

The jewelers place seemed decent enough. After all, anything less than decent would have likely been unable to process the kind of exchange the party was in need of. Nevertheless, Boran kept himself in high alert when Flint went in in search of the owner.

[Assistant]
"Hello?" Flint called. There wasn't an immediate response, though the sound of wood scraping against wood could be heard. A quick look about the place showed it was comfortable and well-decorated, if a bit small. There were shelves standing n the floor, displaying an array of objects both strange and mundane. It appeared to be some sort of second hand store, but a fine one. Most of the goods were of the more expensive variety, such as fine clothes, antique furniture, lockets, jewelry boxes, exotic cloth from the east, old tomes, bones from long-deceased monsters... Everything was well-polished, small lanterns lit the room, and it was arrayed in such a way that everything was fetching to the eye. It wasn't humble, no; it was someone taking the best advantage of the small space they had offered to them. The door that led to the back of the building was ajar.

It became clear after a moment that someone was watching them. Boran noticed first, then Flint. To the right stood a tall, armored Caernling, a bearded warrior clad in scale armor with a vicious looking spiked mace resting at his hip. Apparently that was how the goods were kept safe.

"Forgive my tardiness," came a voice with a Westerling accent. They were interwoven with soft clicks upon the floor. "I would have answered sooner, but as they say in soldierly vernacular, my eyes were on the target." At that moment, the door to the back was pulled open, and a Westerling came in. He was a middle-aged man clutching a cane with a dragon-shaped head, a coal-skinned gentleman wearing black-and-gold fineries and old spectacles. His beard was ash-colored, and he wore a sad but steady smile.

"How can I help you?" he asked.


[System]
Hōgan, Foremost General of the Minamoto

Class: Saber

Gender: Female

Attribute: Human

Era: 1159-1189

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Personality: Her flighty childhood days are over, replaced with years of war. However, a child of a tengu will always be a tengu, and thus she remains a playful and friendly individual to those she calls comrade. In war, however, the darker side of her becomes immediately apparent, as she becomes cold and calculating, thinking of her opponents not of "people" but more akin to "numbers she must deal with to achieve her objectives." Inhuman to the very end of her life, but she still loves just like anyone else. In essence, a nice big sister who's a bit off.

Bio:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Minamoto_no_Yos…
typemoon.fandom.com/wiki/Rider_(Fate/…

Weapon: Yoshitsune was proficient with all the expected weapons of a samurai, from the bow to the staff to the blade. Thus, she has access to them, but prefers the blade to attack, as befitting of her class.

Parameters:

Strength: D

Endurance: C

Agility: A

Mana: B

Luck: B

Class Skills:

Magic Resistance: B
Yoshitsune's resistance to magecraft and other such miracle working has increased more to more than usual due to her existence as a Saber. As she is at rank B, high thaumaturgy, rituals, and other such advanced magecraft have difficulty affecting her.

Riding: A+
Yoshitsune's ability to ride was quite advanced, due to needing to play the games that tengu children did, and she was quite skilled in riding her own personal mount, Tayuguro. Her personal ability with animals gives her quite the advantage, although dragonkind remains beyond her reach. She is capable of using even Divine Beasts as her mount.

Personal Skills:

War Arts of the Minamoto Tengu: A
The sum tutelage of the highest of the Tengu to Ushiwakamaru, from kyudo to kendo. It served her well throughout all her years, from slaying the demonic spider to defeating the bandit lord when she was but fifteen. However, when she matured and served under her brother Yoritomo, she needed more than just skills for heroic combat. As Yoshitsune, she learned how to properly be a leader of men, to know how wars were waged and not just duels. Together, these skills made her one of, if not the most acclaimed samurai in the Heian period, as they were forged under years of combat experience into something almost beyond humans.

Provides bonus to close-combat power such as swordsmanship, archery and spearmanship, as well as Skills such as Military Tactics and Magic Resistance. It is possible to demonstrate skill at arms that chafes against the Class container system.

Heavenly Child of the Tengu: A

Protection from "something" on Mt. Kurama. A gift from learning under the greatest of the Tengu, honed under years of combat into something more than the sum of its parts. While in any other person, their minds would be twisted by such knowledge, what could such things do to a girl with a mind who was never shaped properly by humanity as a child?

An abnormal channel in the brain that aligns one to an aspect of a war god, a boon (Crest) descending from that principle. Drawing upon this gift, she becomes more "War" than "human," or even "tengu." Perhaps it tapped into her family's patronage of Hachiman, but nevertheless, her skill in war was proven over and over in the breaking of the Taira.

Use of this skill consumes mental energy, rather than magical energy. If it is overused, the qualification of Heroic Spirit may be lost.

Flight of the Swallow: A

Hearkening back into the days when she dueled Benkei and evaded his blows twice, Yoshitsune was always surefooted and quick to move. Her age has not decreased her ability in this, but rather, advanced it beyond measure. Refining her naturally light and swift body with a lifetime of training and experience, she has achieved a level of movement equivalent to the deepest secrets of Shugendou's Tengu Flight. With just the legs of a human, she has achieved the wings of a bird. Put into practice against her older brother's foes, she has leapt from the level of ability achievable from a prodigal warrior into something utterly supernatural.

Noble Phantasms:

Usumidori
Heavenly Blade of the Minamoto

Rank: D
NP Type: Anti-Human (Or so she says)

Range: 1-30

Maximum Number of Targets: 100

Naturally, as a Saber, Yoshitsune has a blade befitting of a legendary samurai of her era. A blade passed down the Minamoto clan for ages, it holds anti-Demonic properties, hearkening back to the days when demons were commonplace throughout the land of the rising sun, when Minamoto-no-Raikou and her legendary four retainers did combat against the monsters of the age such as the oni on Mount Ooe.

While retaining its anti-Demonic properties, as the giant spider learned unfortunately, Yoshitsune wished to be ever swifter, ever stronger, ever more skilled, so that she could server her older brother even better. One by one was ever-so inefficient, so she sought to be able to slay a hundred men in but one slash.

And so, she did. Bringing forth Usumidori's inherent abilities as a demon slaying blade, she releases a sonic attack unconsciously drawing upon her memories of the Tengu fan techniques she witnessed in childhood. In adulthood she has finally achieved her ambition of being able to cut down a hundred men in but one blow. When Yoshitsune fully draws upon her skill to cut, the resulting sword technique produces a spider-slaying vibration that can utterly break down anything it comes into contact with.

[User]
Oni no Hanzo
Foreign District, Tour Montparnasse, Top Platform
Night

---

A single moment, brought together by the web of information she had carefully woven. A single strike, a single move, and Hanzo disappeared with a single prize, leaving behind a headless body. She knew nothing of the person, nothing of what she was or who she was, just that she was a Master. Another faceless person to assassinate.

---

Nanashi
Bois de Boulogne

---

Nanashi yawned, looking as if he was going to fall dead asleep on his feet right there and then. "I don't really understand all this complicated stuff. Lets fight someone already. Hiring a strong yojimbo just to let them rot in bodyguard duty is gonna dull their sword, you know?"

He stood up and put his tachi back onto his belt. "Oi, Demon Lord. Lets find someone to fight. Oh, right right." He flashed an arrogant grin at Chieko. "I forgot to tell you but, I've left a package for you in your room."

[Assistant]
The Dragonfly's Wings
Foreign District, Tour Montparnasse, Streets

Master?...Master?

In his prone state he saw the kicking coming towards his head. He had no time to roll out of the way. The best he could do was try to block and make the kick a glancing blow. The quickly brought the shaft of his spear in front of his face, Berserker's kick making contact with it. The sheer force of the attack launched him clear down the road, rocking him through a building before rolling to a stop in yet another street. He picked himself up. His left arm was a broken, mangled mess that hung limply from his body.

Master? Master?!

A feeling of dread came over him. He could feel the very Earth underneath his feet start to reject his existence. His Master had been killed. He had twice failed to protect his Master this war and he could feel that this might be the end. Unless.

"Berserker wait! I can sense my Master is in danger. Please, she is only a girl. We can continue some other night. I would rather not rob you of an empty victory!"

On a nearby building, a certain metal eagle was perched, observing the events that were transpiring.

---

The Resting Giant
Basement, Somewhere in the Foreign District

Jackson was watching the fight between the Lancer and Berserker intently through his Cauldron. He could hear the nearby destruction being caused by their fight and prayed that they didn't somehow end up close to his homebase. He had a rough second night, having lost his first servant. The sensible thing to do would be to seek asylum at the Cathedral, but he was too stubborn. He wanted his ideal world realised.

He continued to watch the fight. Perhaps he could somehow use it to gain something...

---

[User]
Sylvester II
Street in 7th Arrondisement, Core District
@Danchou @SSW

"I suppose I should introduce myself. You can call me Rider."

Rider spoke to his opponent. After all, though he was one for flamboyant and "cool" openings, he was also a rather straightforward guy. Nothing was cooler than him simply introducing himself, for he was the coolest of them all!

He stood only a few meters away from his opponent, standing there with his leather trench coat blowing itself in the wind.

"We are summoned to kill. That is the purpose of a Heroic Spirit, is it not? "We shall become your blade" and all that noise. N-Not to say I use a blade, but ya know."

An absolutely SMOOTH operator.

"I don't particularly mind it, though. After all, if we are called by the Grail, that means that we desire something from it, does it not? Unfortunately for you and everyone else in this grail war, I desire the Grail myself, and I am not too keen on giving it up anytime soon. Ain't that what it means to wish upon the Grail? Those who want the Grail shall destroy the desires of those others who wish for the Grail. Only one will hold the cup of god's son in their hand."

"Come forth. I preached peace in my life, so I'd rather not take the first strike against you."

This was merely a formality. Rider did not believe in violence in life and often, ironically enough, fought against the hyper-violent nature of warfare. However, as a Servant that meant nothing. If he wished to obtain the Grail, he had to fight.

But to not have his mount summoned … Did that mean that Rider was going easy against Saber?

No, his stance and the fire found within his eyes seemed to tell a story of sincerity, his words holding nothing back against his opponent. In fact, Rider was likely the sort of person who couldn't hold back, regardless of the situation.

… But to not use his mount …

What sort of trickery was this?

At least, that is how it appeared to the untrained eye. Or an eye that could not calculate the "now" of "existence" like the artificial eye that Rider saw the world through. His mount was his arm and his eye. An unorthodox approach to riding, but the Rider before Saber was not the sort to take things in an orthodox manner. He was the man who provided all the world with his theories and advanced society in western Europe, leading to the eventual renaissance in Italy.

"To the mages, we refer to as "Masters" we are simply pawns with the desire to obtain the Holy Grail War, be it for glory, personal or otherwise. Though I always preached peace in life, I do not mind fighting for what I believe in. Come Saber: I shall bring you your release, just as I had done to the Lancer of this war!"

[Assistant]
Agria's Workshop, The Catacombs

With a sigh, Yoshitsune rose up from where she had sat meditating. Servants did not require rest or sleep in the conventional manner, but her brief transformation into an avatar of a war god had drained quite a bit of mental energy, to the point where rather than seeking out other fights on that second night, she chose rather to go back to the base Agria had set out in the catacombs.
Meditating seemed to be as good of a choice as any, after briefly checking over her master, who had likely fallen asleep from working on her own projects and supporting her in the duel with the red-haired Archer. After ensuring that she was in a vaguely comfortable position and putting a blanket over her, she had stood guard near the entrance, meditating all the while in the efforts to ensure her mind was hale enough so she could rely upon it and be able to activate her dangerous skill if need be.

But the third night had come, and with a plethora of activity at that. Before she left, however, she made sure to stop by Agria's workshop. She would be a poor Servant and warrior to not be aware of her lord's plans and health, after all.

"Hello there, Master! How are you doing? Anything I should do while I'm out there?"


[System]
Age: 44

Starting Location/Current Location: East Blue

Personality: "Work smarter, not harder"; that's the motto by which Shigeuchi lives his life. He's a man who dislikes making things complicated, one who's always looking for the easiest option without compromising on the end result; the mark of a job well done is not exceeding expectations but by meeting expectations with time and resources to spare. That said, he also believes that a job worth doing is one worth doing well; his approach to life should not be mistaken for laziness or sloppiness.

This makes him very good at organising and leading people towards completing a task, while at the same time making him something of a nightmare to work under. He is very particular about the way things are done, can be strict and demanding of his underlings. He is quick to anger when mistakes are made but also quick to forgive and forget in the name of keeping things moving. Furthermore, Shigeuchi is also very frugal; a perennial penny-pincher who approaches purchases with a mentality of only buying what's 'good enough' and nothing more. He is not one to indulge in frivolous needs.

Lastly, Shigeuchi is absurdly unambitious for a pirate. He never seeks out responsibility or power, instead finding it placed in his lap without ever looking for it and grumbling about how troublesome it makes his life the whole time. He is someone who cannot fathom how he ended up where he has, with people under his command and a heap of responsibility weighing on his shoulders; he'll complain and lament his existence constantly, even as he works hard at his given task.

Dream/Goal: Dreams? Shigeuchi doesn't have many right now. A life without complications would probably be his answer; money would help with that, so would power, while fame would be a detriment. Unfortunately as a pirate those things tend to go hand in hand.

For now his goal would be keeping his old captain's son alive. Maybe work at helping him become stronger than his father someday, if the boy's willing.

History: Where to start? Shigeuchi first became a pirate as a teenager, being recruited as a lowly deck hand in the fleet of Shiki the Golden Lion the one time the large pirate fleet docked at his home town for supplies; they were looking for new blood and Shigeuchi was looking for a way out of his current situation, seeking a life of freedom with the pirate crew. This was not a well thought out decision.

It turned out that being the lowest rung of the ladder on a fleet of cutthroats and brigands was not the easy life he had imagined it to be however and did not remotely live up to the romantic image most young idiots have of a life at sea. Shigeuchi was put hard to work by the crew, was given little freedom or pay in return and for the most part spent the next couple of years bored and tired. It was a simple life however, one that didn't require much thought on his part and he always knew more or less what the next day would bring.

He was a hard worker however and seemed to have a talent for directing his fellow workers so as to make them more efficient and effective, something which didn't go unnoticed. Bit by bit he was promoted up the ranks of the crew, at one point or another in his twenty years of being a pirate holding almost every position that didn't require specialist knowledge or skills, almost always in a position to order or organise other crew members. Shigeuchi complained every step of the way, always grumbling about the complications and extra responsibilities his new role brought, but generally accepted because it was always easier to be the one giving the order than the one trying to correct the orders of others.

At some point Shigeuchi even found himself in charge of an entire division, only one of over fifty in Shiki's fleet but a division nonetheless. As part of his new position he was even given a Devil Fruit, the Kōkan-Kōkan No Mi, both as a reward for his promotion and to make him a stronger member of Shiki's fleet. The Devil Fruit and its associated curse was another complication he never wanted, but at least the power to move himself and his crew around the ship near instantaneously was useful for keeping things moving.

Shigeuchi worked as a division commander for a little over a year when Roger went and got himself executed and the Admiral's eldest son got it into his head to run off and start his own crew. As a result, Shigeuchi was ordered to go after the brat and become a member of his crew, to assist him in whatever he wanted to do and to keep him alive while trying to convince him to join his father's fleet.

His life has never felt more complicated than it did during that time. He followed Nikko on the first legs his journey, always seemingly a step behind as he tried to catch up to the aspiring writer, eventually finding him and convincing the boy to let him join his crew. In the process he managed to avoid the fate of the rest of the Gold Lion Pirates, avoiding death or imprisonment unlike the others.

He thought it would end when Nikko published his book, but now the brat has it in mind to write a new story about the new Pirate King and, of course, Shigeuchi is going to need to keep an eye on him.

Crew: The Red Lion Pirates

Ship: The Gold Lion Mark 2

Specialty/Profession: First Mate of the Red Lion Pirates

Fighting Style: As a swordsman, the way Shigeuchi fights should be obvious; to put it simply it involves getting as close to the enemy as possible and sticking his sword in them before they do the same to him. That said he's only a semi-decent duellist, nothing special as far as swordsman go, so he needs to rely on more than just his skills to win. He uses a longer sword than most and wields it two-handed, relying on strength and technique more than speed to beat his opponents.

Shigeuchi's epithet of 'Trickster' comes from the way in which he uses his Devil Fruit power as he fights. His Devil Fruit allows him to swap places with another object of similar size, including his opponent; he uses this power to instantly chance his or his opponent's position on the battlefield, confusing them and using that to his advantage.

Weapons: A tachi; like a katana but with a longer blade and a deeper curve, for those of you who don't know. He also carries a tanto as a backup weapon.

Devil Fruit: Kōkan-Kōkan No Mi – A Paramecia type fruit known as the Exchange-Exchange Fruit. It allows the user to exchange two objects of roughly equal size, having them trade places instantaneously with each other. At the moment Shigeuchi is only able to use his Devil Fruit power on himself, trading places with another object within his range so long as that object is about the same size as himself, but eventually he'll be able to exchange an object he is holding or touching with another and maybe even swapping any two objects or people he can see.

Items: Aside from his weapons, the clothes on his back and a bag with a few basic supplies, Shigeuchi doesn't have much in the way of possessions.

Bounty: 130,000,000 Beli. It's not often a first mate has a higher bounty that their captain, but Shigeuchi is still wanted for his time as part of The Gold Lion Pirates on top of being a member of Nikko's crew.

Color: It's gray. Hope it's not too hard to read.

[User]
Location - GOLD LION MKII
Cosmos-@ladyonyx04-@KillBox

"Want some? You gotta keep my presence on the down low."

Daring, imaginative, but very very stupid. After all, the line between bold and brash, and belongs in the trash, was a very thin line. A line Lexi leaped right over into baffling, and then as several pirates just looked at her for a good hard moment, it changed to insulted. No doubt the group of pirates who noticed her would include a member or two from the very group who had been with the captain in the bar. And considering they were noticeably under attack... Well the offer to let a clear enemy onto their ship was easily dismissed.

In short...

"Miss, we're pirates, not stupid." One out of the dozen said. Gun raising up and taking aim at Lexi, the bottle, and her very vital organs. "Now, why don't you do a sensible thing, and surrender. Once we're clear of port, the captain can decide to drop you off the side of the ship, or sell you off at the next port." As it turns out... Sneaking onto a pirate ship, only to announce one's presence? Really bad idea. Especially considering all the guns, swords, and very angry scowls directed at her.

Though, if she played her cards right, at least she would get to meet the captain. Not a bad consultation prize.

[Assistant]
Caitlyn laughs amused as he called her lashes fake. "My darling idiot. My looks are as real as yours are. All inherited from my darling mother who I take after pretty much." Of course that wasn't all she'd inherited. Whore's child she might be, but she actually wasn't one. Sure she'd been taught with many skills of one, but she'd never sold her body like that. The leader of the house had protected the child in that way at least, letting the child have something of a childhood. This swing was different, Caitlyn noticed immediately and let her instincts take over as she jumped upward and kicked outward as water solidified behind her foot and she once more pushed herself off the foothold she'd made.  "Rain fall!" She exclaimed feeling that would work, and droplets of water fell around the swordsman as she continued upward. She needed to get onto that ship to do the rescuing after all.

"Sell me? As if I'm goods? Well Pirates you might be, but you still are very stupid." Lexi stated and struck out with the quickness of a snake, taking one of the Pirates into her hold and then one of her poisoned daggers pointed against the throat of her captive. "How about you take me to your Captain anyway? I'd so hate to disappoint mine and start killing, but really, I'm just about done being insulted by you low ranked no bodies." She growls, her whole demeanor saying she was honestly through being docile. If they weren't stupid and had that whole 'we will do anything for our crew mates' that Luffy had with his crew, then perchance this might work. But if not, she's more than willing to leave behind corpses.


[System]
Age: 31
Rank/Position: Lieutenant-Commander/Judge Advocate
Race: Human
Appearance: She stands at 5'3, an athletic build, and few curves. She has brown hair kept in a bun and grey eyes. Her skin is pale, with a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She has a birthmark on her ankle.
Personality: A consummate professional, she is dedicated to her work and the efficiency of her medicine. Stubborn and sarcastic.
History: Catherine was born, raised, and educated in Texas, as the eldest of five children. When she was younger, she waddled between a couple different career ideas, but coming from a family of doctors, Catherine seemed destined to become a physician.

Before she entered college, she was throughly sick of biology, which lead her to studying electrical engineering, and fenced as a hobby. She competed in a few regional competitions, and won second place in saber in one competition. When she was close to graduation, she felt pressured, as she did not want to spend her life in a career she did not enjoy, but she had very little time to find a new career option. She found a job at graduation and began what she felt was a monotonous routine of engineering design. Months after her graduation, a friend of hers in college was arrested and tried in civilian court. The solemnity, order, and respect afforded to the lawyers and judge appealed to her greatly; this, she decided, was what she was meant to do. So she was resolved to enter and go through law school and become an attorney. She entered law school with little trouble, and while a student, she heard of Starfleet's Judge Advocate program. She had already toyed with being a Medical Officer, but with her newfound love of law, it seemed a better fit. She could now help keep order and provide legal services to the men and women volunteering their services to the betterment of civilization and knowledge. There was no greater honor. She was accepted to Starfleet Academy and commissioned as a Judge Advocate.
She has been a part of Starfleet for seven years now. She has served on the USS Cancer, Atlantis, and Jupiter.

Skills: Has an engineering background. As a Judge Advocate, she is licensed to practice law on Federation planets. Her legal specialties are Intellectual Property, Operational Law, and Criminal Justice. She is mostly familiar with Earth's legal system, but has working knowledge of other systems of law. But like any lawyer, she knows where to look to find answers for topics she is not aware of. Her fencing gives her knowledge of sword play.
Other: She speaks with a slight southern accent.
Sample Post:

Her desk was the messiest part of her office, with dozens of case files stacked high and deep. A cup of sweet tea was on the far left corner near her, with papers scattered directly in front of her. The rest of the room was organized, five shelves of books dedicated to law, and one containing her engineering books. A fencing saber was held above the desk, a decoration reminding the occupants of her hobby. She sipped her tea, and brushed her finger along the parchment: a witness report of an assault. The defendant had clubbed one of his crew members with a lamp. There was alcohol involved, along with rumors and the affection of another crew member contested, which caused the men to boil over and brawl. She closed the file and rubbed her temples; so long as she could prove that he not only started, but escalated the conflict, it should be a smooth case. She opened the evidence file, glancing over the bottle of alcohol that was being used. "What could be used against me?" She leaned back in her chair in thought. These men were competing for some time. The defendant had no previous record of offenses, much less violent ones. The only people drinking were the defendant and the victim. What if the defendant's drink was spiked? If he was drugged, it would reduce culpability. She stood, quickly and briskly walked out. "Walkers! I want a blood test on the defendant for the lamp case! I also want a test done on the bottle! Now!"

Walkers, her Paralegal, was efficient, and dealt with Catherine's antics, which she appreciated. Her requests were answered with an "Aye, ma'am!", and now it was time for her to wait for the results.

When it was time for the Court Martial, Catherine was finishing presenting the new evidence to the court. "... The defendant was drugged, your Honor. This blood test result shows he was drugged with a hallucinogen to make him aggressive. In his eyes, he wasn't fighting a rival--he was fighting something else. Therefore, the Prosecution believes that the defendant, Brandon Frost, is innocent, his record should be made clean, and he should immediately be placed back on duty."

"In light of this evidence, this court does find the innocent, Brandon Frost, innocent. His record shall be made clean, and Starfleet will assign him to a new ship. This court is adjourned." The gavel rapped, and Catherine sighed, a small smile on her face. Mission accomplished, the system did what the system was supposed to do. A letter was dropped on her table, which made her look up.

"Lieutenant-Commander Bishop, you are now assigned to the USS Orion. You will report to the Captain and present your credentials in a few days."

Her eyes widened and she gripped the letter and ran. "Books! Books! I need my books packed now! Walkers!"

[User]
Lieutenant Brown had parted ways with Poxx at the Transporter Room. The Orion still shook from the damage it had taken whilst Brown was aboard the Jem'Hadar ship but with their Vorta onboard and his First dead the battle was all but done. Dw'kin, Anthony, and the others had transported over before them. The bloodstains along the floor of the Transporter Room no doubt came from Anthony's leg wound. It looked to have bled twice as badly as Brown's arm. He clutched at it as he made his way through the Orion's corridors escorted by a pair of young ensigns. With each step they offered the Security Chief their support but he brushed them aside each time. The blood had soaked through the arm of his uniform and stained a portion of it red. His dark skin looked drained of blood but his feet kept moving all the same.

The doors to the Sick Bay slid open and a wall of noise greeted Brown. Amongst the carnage he noticed a familiar figure departing from the Sick Bay at the other side. It was Captain Vaella.

"Vash," Brown called out as the doors slid shut behind the captain.

Malachi and the captain had a tumultuous relationship at best. He had been with her aboard the Hawk. They had both seen people they cared for and trusted lost. They had both done things that stayed with them until this very day. Brown rarely approved of the captain's methods but she had got them home despite everything. For that the captain had earned Brown's undying loyalty.

On a bed across the room Malachi spotted Anthony with D'wkin beside him and lifted a thumb in their direction. His hand was covered in blood and the Security Officer's weak smile wavered as he felt his legs give out beneath him. He outstretched a hand towards a nearby table to catch his fall and D'wkin bounded towards him to help him to his feet.

"Doctor!"

"I'm fine," Brown muttered as he dragged himself up to his feet. "There's no need to make a scene."

As he secured himself Brown saw the Orion's doctor Carter Cole slip into sight. He was a plain looking man, unspectacular even, but he knew his way around a scalpel like no one that Malachi had ever met.

"What do you reckon, Doc?" Lieutenant Brown said with a feeble smile as he gestured towards his injured arm. "I hope amputation's not on the cards. I don't think Catherine will be able to find another fencing instructor at such short notice."

[Assistant]
"Keep talking and I'll amputate your tongue," Carter hissed as he walked by the big security chief.

All around Sick Bay, doctors and nurses were busy tending to their patients. Dr. Lana, a Klingon surgeon that was arguably the best the ship had to offer, was busy trying to save CHENG Dra'ul from circling the drain. Assisting her was the Orion nurse Dera. A quick inventory told Carter he was the only doctor not engaged in the crisis, the only one not attempting to mind a wounded crewman.

"Your lucky day, Brown," he said as he and D'Wkin got the injured chief to a gurney. "I'm your doctor. Hopefully for you, my hangover isn't that bad."

A quick slice from his laser scalpel cut off the portion of Brown's tunic where the injury lay.

"It looks worse than it is," he said with a glance up towards Brown. "But a few inches to the left and it would have been so much worse. I'm talking major artery and you dead in two minutes flat worse. What hit you, Brown? Be as detailed as possible and be as quick as possible."

[User]
All around them there was movement. Brown wasn't used to being in the Sick Bay at times like these. Usually he was out there, phase in hand, doing the fighting or by Captain Vaella's side on the bridge. He'd seen so much death over the years that he'd almost lost sight of what it meant. Here amongst the Orion's wounded, its women and children, Brown felt uniquely vulnerable. Down here in the Sick Bay he felt mortal.

"One of the Jem'Hadar tagged me with a plasma rifle," Brown mumbled as he played the firefight back in his memory. "Felt like nothing to begin with but the wound won't stop bleeding. Must be some kind of anticoagulant."

The Jem'Hadar were warriors through and through but their choice of ammunition spoke to their true nature. Though they excelled at war the Jem'Hadar's real currency was death. They were killers. It wasn't enough to shoot a man. They wanted to make sure he bled out sooner than allow him to escape. There was no end to the Jem'Hadar's cruelty and Brown himself now found himself on the receiving end of it. The Security Chief smiled weakly as he recalled the Jem'Hadar First falling victim to his cruelty.

Malachi looked to Cole with a grimace. "Do whatever you need to do, Doc."

[Assistant]
"I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker."

Carter injected Brown in the neck with a hypospray. A coagulant shot through the security chief's veins in an effort to counteract whatever the hell he'd been infected with. He looked through the collection of utensils beside the gurney and picked up a small pen like object with a glowing red tip.

"While that serum tries to clot your blood, I'm going to cauterize the wound."

The pen glowed red hot with a high-energy output of several hundred degrees.

"Just lay back and think of England." Carter shifted his mouth and spoke in the posh, upper-crust accent he'd learned. He took a deep breath and prepared to cauterize the wound on Brown's arm. "Stiff upper lip, chap."

[User]
As the pen made contact with Brown's wound he grimaced. Half from the pain and half from Cole's English accent. It wasn't often that Malachi felt homesick but being in the presence of other humans reminded him exactly how far from home they all were. A decade ago he'd been running laps around a park in South London and now here he was. It was surreal to say the least.

"Was the Captain here earlier? I thought I saw her leaving when I came in."

A slight grunt slipped from Brown's lips as the heat intensified. Somehow he could already feel the serum at work beneath his skin.

For a moment Malachi's steely front wavered as his thoughts drifted to Vaella. "She's not hurt, is she?"

[Assistant]
"She's just banged up," Carter mumbled as he worked the laser cauterizer up Brown's arm. "A console or something exploded on the bridge and she was hit by some shrapnel. Cuts, burnt skin, and some shrapnel in her arm. You're worst for the wear than she is."

Carter pulled the pen away from Brown's arm and inspected his handiwork. A two-inch vertical line of burnt flesh went up the security chief's arm. He looked closely at the now closed wound and was satisfied that it was neat and straight.

"Doctor Cole," one of the nurses called. "We need you over here."

"Stay here," Carter said, pointing at Brown to accentuate his point. "The wound is closed but that serum I injected into you may take some time to work. In order to prevent any internally bleeding, you need to stay still and let it do its work."

Carter gave the security chief one last, long look before he went away to solve the next crisis awaiting him.


[System]
The Lost Dancer | 罗依芳 | 28
Rank: First Class Warrior
Allegiance: Martial Alliance

APPEARANCE
Yifang is much like ghost: other wordly, still, watchful, pale. Maybe once upon a time she was stronger, but her body has grown thin with age and lack of appetite. Her long hair is one part of her that seems to be cared for daily. Long and dark, a strand is never out of place. When she fights or dances, it flows with the wind.
PERSONALITY
Yifang has grown somber in her late twenties. She is serious and watchful, scornful of too much play. It is perhaps part of the reason why she struggles to grow into a master: her mind is not at peace. The Luo Clan embraces the philosophy of Yin and Yang, maintaining balance between the mind and body. However, very few of her thoughts are positive, forward thinking while much of her thoughts are dark and negative as she seems to still dwell on her fiance's untimely death. There are moments where she is caught smiling, but it is not a comfort to onlookers as its usually at the misfortune of someone else: an elder falling, a child being bit by a dog, or ill omens.
HISTORY
Yifang was young when the devil clans made their motives known the rest of the The Jianghu--nearly 18. The pressure to grow stronger was heavier than ever for the Luo Clan, and Yifang was able to deliver. She ascended confidently through the ranks, particularly skilled with a blade in hand. It was said watching her fight was like watching a dance, a convergence of power and grace that left no enemies standing. It was not so surprising when became engaged half way through the war--who couldn't see her beauty? Her strength?

At the end of the war, destroying their dream to settle down peacefully together and raise a family, Yifang's fiance was lost. He was killed in their battle against a Transcendent Master of the devil clans--though not without first defeating the enemy. He earned the title "Shadow Bolt Slayer" in his death. Yifang has changed much since then. Those who are old enough, remember her as a bright and friendly woman. She was easy to smile, easier to laugh. Though, since that fateful day, she has grown quite somber. Frown lines threaten to grow around her mouth, pushed back only when she is amused by others' misfortunes. She no longer wears the colors of the Luo clan, but dull blacks and whites. Much of what defines her is as she is versus as she used to be.

Her cultivation has stagnated. During the war, Yifang rose through the ranks to First Class and there was much promise in her potential as a Master. However, now it is hardly fair to call her even First Class as she has seems to grown quite placid--hence her title given by those who know her story: the Lost Dancer. The veteran lives as a self-made outcast on the outskirts of the Luo Clan territory. It is here that she manages an old temple to a nearly forgotten goddess who blesses followers with good health.
EQUIPMENT
Mercy: Her blade gained recognition during the war due to the allies it killed. It is known among the Martial Alliance that Yifang constantly moved into enemy territory to rescue allies. While her persistence and bravery during the war allowed her to save many members of the Martial Alliance (and even some of The Recusant), the acts of evil that the devil clans inflicted upon others left them beyond saving. Forbidden cultivation practices broke minds and bodies, and often only Mercy could free these prisoners. Now, Mercy collects dust. It is not a weapon she likes to use.

Her favored weapons these days put distance between her and her target: when she is seen training, bows or guandao are her preference. If one watches carefully, they will see that Yifang is particularly skillful with a bow, but few pay her much mind anymore.
CULTIVATION BASE
For the Luo Clan, qi is created where Yin and Yang meet. In deliberate movements where one's limb extends away from the body and is pulled back, qi manifests at the range where neither pulling or pushing is happening. In breathing, qi manifests not when one draws in their breath or exhales--but for that moment their breath is held. Disciples of the Luo Clan spend much of their time learning to create qi with this theory via meditation and tai chi. While Yifang still does daily trainings, she struggles with any martial techniques since the war. Nowadays, she uses her cultivation base to heal others and maintain what little strength she has.
TECHNIQUES
Bone Mending: Yifang can harness qi to mend broken bones over the course of a few days rather than the usual months. While an extraordinary ability, she doesn't claim it herself. Instead, she says the goddess blesses her with the ability to help those who seek it. Despite its name, it extends to flesh as well, and can be life saving against bleeding out.

Qi blocking: entirely defensive, Yifang can counter skin-to-skin attacks by stopping the flow of qi in another person's body. She does have to make physical contact with them to do so, but a successful hit to her target's meridian will stop the flow of their qi.

Heaven's Arrow: by focusing her own qi, Yifang can enhance her dexterity and vision. Its purpose is to improve her archery and range attacks in general, give her an eagle's eye whether she is shooting an arrow or throwing a knife. When adopting Heaven's Arrow, she cannot miss her target(s)--though its intense focus makes her farsighted, so to say. She becomes insanely vulnerable to close attacks, almost completely unaware of them.

[User]
Shrine of a Forgotten God
Luo Yifang
Yifang's eyelids dropped momentarily into a blink as Sima approached the shine and visitor inside. After another beat, she looked around and followed Sima to meet her. Irritation tugged her lips into a frown and furrowed her brows as the girl lowered her head, refusing to look to the veteran. She couldn't muster the same gentle tone as the man, but her words were not harsh. "Child, you are more than welcome to rest--" she began and, bristled by such shy behavior, Yifang leaned and tilted her head to see the girl's face hidden under the hood. However, her voice trailed off, recognition flickering across her features for just a moment. She stood straight, sparing a glance to Sima as she crossed her thin arms in front of her body.

Yifang's scowl deepened as the young woman squirmed under their gazes, and her pale hand lifted to idly twirl her own dark hair around her finger. She was quiet for a moment as she thought. "Three heads are better than two, isn't that right? A young pair of eyes could be helpful in an investigation like yours, Sima," she said at last.

[Assistant]
Shrine of an Forgotten God, Henan

---

Vanished @Kidd@Feyblue

---

"You're right about that," Sima replied to Yifang. "I've been out west for so long that I got sand stuck in my head."

Stepping out of the shrine, Sima gave his arms a quick stretch. "We should probably take a few. Rest up and get ready to leave. Ask me any questions if you got 'em."

"And Blue," he looked back at Xiaying. The expression on his face was a strange one. Perhaps it was sympathy or perhaps it was the remembrance of an old memory. More so than a rugged master, he seemed more like a sorrowful man as he shared some words. "It might be a little presumptuous of me to say, but walk with your head high. Doesn't matter if you have to fake it. The world's a rough place."

Looking back at the wilds, he took a place sitting with his back against a tree.

---

An Escort Warrior? @Zeroth@Cu Chulainn?

---

"Euuergh..?" A drunkard at a table seemed to raise his head. As if triggered by the words that came from Yi Hyun-Woo, he tossed a wooden placard at the young man. Though, his drunken state was very obvious considering that he almost beaned "Jin" in the skull.

Although it seemed like he was starting a fight, the drunkard seemed to be a little too faded for a bar fight. Instead, what was important was the information on the placard he threw.

It signified the acceptance of an escort mission. As written on its face, it was a job to escort a merchant caravan carrying supplies to various sects within Henan. Though it didn't explicitly say Mountain Ravine Fist on its face, those words awakening a barely conscious man were effectively confirmation that the school was one of the destinations.

Considering how the leaving date was early next morning, it seemed that the drunkard wouldn't be able to make it to depart in time.

---

The Hunt for the Madwoman @Restalaan

---

"How did she look?!" The bald roughneck seemed to be annoyed. What did it matter how she looked? Still, he swallowed his emotions to respond. He also swallowed his pride as the large Xiao Shan effortlessly picked him up to place him back on his feet. How emasculating. He briefly closed his eyes to remember, but all he could barely recall was her damn eyes. "She had... large red eyes? A red face too. She didn't really loo-" He had opened his eyes and realized that Xiao Shan had already been moving towards where he had fled.

"Ah fuck, wait up."

---

It was certainly a strange sight. Whatever fight Xiao Shan had prepared herself for had been replaced by an indescribable scene. The first was a group of men that had been bruised and battered. They stood in the middle of a clearing with their legs bent, their arms held up, and bodies bereft of clothing save for something to cover their bits. The second group of four had been conscripted in some strange ritual.

And there she was. With an outfit of strange baubles and designs, bright-red makeup solely around her eyes, and a drunkard's flush, the Madwoman seemed to be riding a makeshift palanquin of branches and clothing. She (and by extension her conscripts) had been circling the other group for quite some time judging by the torn up grass circle surrounding them. Upon seeing Xiao Shan, the Madwoman clapped twice. The conscripts seem to slowly lower the palanquin on the ground as they collapsed from exhaustion.

"I don't remember a woman among your ranks." She said to nobody in particular, her voice aloof and strange as though she was not speaking in her native tongue. "How urbane."

She paused as she sized up the mask wearing giant.

"Well?"

[User]
Shrine of a Forgotten God, Henan

---

 Xiáyīng momentarily seemed to lower her guard. Or rather, it could perhaps be better said that her curiosity got the better of her. The man wasn't saying anything, and the woman had just entered the room and begun to speak. She tilted her head ever-so-slightly, wanting to see what they were doing, what their expressions were -- wanted to make sure they really weren't going to hurt her.

 Then it happened. In an instant, a dark and familiar something stole its way over the dark-haired woman's face, icy recognition descending upon her from on high like hailstones, and sudden, bristling anger flashing towards her like lightning. Not towards her specifically, but rather towards...

 "A young pair of eyes could be helpful in an investigation like yours, Sima."

 She knew. She didn't just know, but she craved the power that Xiáyīng so unwillingly bore.

 It wasn't a request, or an invitation -- it was a threat. Lend her power, or have it taken from her by force. Even if she complied, there was no guarantee the woman wouldn't turn on her once her usefulness to her had ended. If she let her guard down for even a second... her eyes would be taken.

 But she had already seen the woman's strength herself. The path she had walked was long and arduous, and surely, a useless child like her could not possibly hope to match one who had climbed so far, and learned so much. If she drew her blade here, or if she tried to run -- it mattered not. All she could do was comply.

 Her only reassurance was that the man did not seem to share the woman's awareness of her nature. Or, if he did know -- he had called her "Blue," after all -- he lacked the same hostility. She could see it -- his sorrow, and his warmth. It was far too presumptuous to expect that he would protect her, necessarily, if push came to shove, but... for the time being, of the two who had pressed her into service, he seemed much safer than his dark-haired companion.

 "I'm sorry." Despite his advice, it was the only answer that came naturally to her when she was scolded. What else was she supposed to say? Nevertheless, she tried to hold her head just a little higher -- almost high enough to meet his gaze as she awkwardly, unsubtly scooted just a little closer to him, and away from Yifang. "I did not mean to cause offense. I will... umm... keep your advice in mind."

 It wasn't much -- and it could hardly be called an improvement -- but the way she gripped her sword now bespoke a fear much greater than simply being robbed. If she was attacked, she would run, and if forced to fight, she would lose -- but despite the inevitability of such a defeat, she began to steel herself for such an eventuality regardless.

[Assistant]
Shrine of a Forgotten God
Luo Yifang
Yifang couldn't help the slight raise of the end of her lips as the other scooted away from her. Was she really so afraid of the husk she had become? "Well, you have your time to rest," the woman said after Sima took the opportunity to do just that. She paused, eyes flickering about the young woman's figure--messy hair, messy clothes. The vice grip on the sword didn't go unnoticed either. Perhaps it was best to speak plainly. She dropped her hand from her locks and, while she hesitated, did rest her bony hand on the girl's shoulder. "I'm Luo Yifang. As unlikely as it is that you've heard of me, I know of your father. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask.

"In the meantime, I best prepare for our little adventure. The Marital Alliance calls upon us." Another smile tugged at her features, but it didn't quite reach her dark eyes as they lingered on the younger woman. Only then did Yifang pull away step out of the other's way and into the shrine to find which of her few belongings would be appropriate for the quest.