[System]
Race: Serpent Folk (also referred to as Serpent People)

Serpent Folk are a humanoid race that appear like large serpents but with arms and digitigrade legs. Compared to the average Human, they stand a head taller (though their long tails lead to a longer overall body length head to tail). Serpent Folk have poor vision in normal lighting conditions but have great vision in low light conditions and a specialized heat detecting organ that gives them a sort of 'heat-vision'. Serpent Folk produce a paralyzing venom in their fangs to weaken and kill prey that they swallow whole due to their carnivorous diet. A Serpent Folk can swallow something up to slightly smaller than them and can go weeks without having to feed again.

Serpent Folk are relatively low in number, residing primarily underground, and prefer the company of their own kind and thus are rarely seen by other races. Others have been in contact with them, especially those located close in proximity to one of the subsurface communities, but most people would only be familiar with them through passing knowledge if at all. As a race they tend to be adept at alchemy and are inclined to magic, most knowing a spell or two at the least.
Age: 37
Appearance: S'Hraa stands 6'8" tall and is 11' head to tail. His scales are a pale green on color with a finlike dorsal appendage consisting of spikes connected with a thin membrane running along most of the back. He wears a small enchanted silver necklace depicting a human-like face and carries several pouches filled with various alchemical ingredients poisons and potions.

He also has an alternate appearance with the aid of his enchanted necklace. With a little bit of focus, he can almost instantaneously take the appearance of (though not the form. He still has the same physical ophidian form but visually appears differently) a 6'4" tall Human with a lean build and pale white skin. This illusion appears like a human in every way except for the eyes, the only thing the necklace does not alter, which still betray its beastly origins. In addition, other clues may betray the illusion such as the footsteps not matching (for a particularly observant individual) or the odd mannerisms of S'Hraa (as sometimes he may forget or be unaware of how a typical human would react to a particular situation such as his preference to consume live prey, though this might be attributed to eccentricity) This is the default appearance S'Hraa takes with those unfamiliar with him and often uses this disguise to blend in unnoticed with society. This Human form often wears a hooded robe concealing most of his features, especially the face. As the overall size of this illusion is smaller than his physical form (owing mainly to the extra length from the tail) S'Hraa attempts to keep as liberal distance between others as possible and will regularly be no closer than 5'+ when possible.

Skills and abilities:

Alchemical expert. He is fully capable of crafting beneficial potions and crippling poisons.

Stealth.

Due to a slow metabolism, he eats much less often compared to others. Fully fed (with large enough prey like the occasional bandit), he can be sustained for weeks at a time.

His potent venom can incapacitate a fully grown human in minutes, and often death in about an hour provided no treatment is given.

Adept at illusion spells.

His scales provide some resistance to weapons like sword or daggers and small arms outside of close range.

S'Hraa is surprisingly agile for his size. While by no means untouchable he does a good job of slithering out of the way of some attacks and hazards.

Weapons:

An ornate dagger with grooves for storing and injecting poison in any wounds inflicted.

A drilling with side by side shotgun barrels over a rifle barrel.

A pair of Fangs that can inject venom from his glands.

Other Equipment:

A wooden staff with a pair of snakes intertwining near the top which is used as a magical focus.

Various ingredients and containers of potions and poisons. Some empty, some filled and all contained within three pouches S'Hraa carries with him.

A metal tool resembling a fang meant to inject potions/poisons while minimizing tissue damage (like a syringe). Primarily used for medicinal purposes like injecting a healing potion directly into the blood stream rather than having to wait for it to normally be absorbed through ingestion for example.

Enchanted necklace that disguises S'Hraa as a Human (The disguise is 'bound' to S'Hraa and will not work with any other wearer unless they have the know-how to enchant it to them specifiacally).

Background:

S'Hraa was a little different than the rest of his kin. While most were content to live away from the other races, S'Hraa had a curious nature and sought to learn a little about these other beings he shares the world with. The only problem being he resembles a very large snake. Something often tied together with venom and a quick grave. Not ever hearing of Serpent Folk before, most people reacted negatively at a snake the size of a man.

S'Hraa quickly realized the solution and enchanted a necklace to cast a spell he would use often. With the convenience of appearing as a Human at a moment's notice he began to mingle with society. After a few awkward encounters (Learning a language is tricky, learning the slang is trickier) he quickly acclimated and only occasionally slips up.

Of course, with the whole battle for survival thing going on now most anything resembling society would tell strangers to get lost unless they were trading or were adept at something, which fortunately for S'Hraa was alchemy. With the usual potion to cure a sickness, heal some dismembered fingers, and the occasional poison, S'Hraa became a highly regarded figure. Or, at least the Human form did. With the occasional bandit corpse (following a raid) going missing, like anyone cared, S'Hraa was content for the time being.

Eventually S'Hraa had an urge to move on. Satisfied with the stories he gained from socializing he decided to look for a new group with new stories. He never did feel close with any of them, feeling trapped in a form unlike his own, having to monitor his words and actions. Perhaps with others he might reveal a little about himself, might act like himself, or perhaps it will be more of the same. Regardless he decided to leave, to see where the road leads him to next.

Other stuff:

As one might expect, S'Hraa has a fondness of snakes and takes great care to not harm one. He thinks less of those who harm snakes intentionally or not and may even outright attack anyone who does so.

[User]
Endre says nothing as the others say a few words and quickly do what they can to ease the pain of those they have known passing. He leans quietly against a dilapidated sand scored cabinet, quietly cleaning his rifle of carbon scoring and the thick cloying dust that seems to get everywhere. He is relatively new to the band, finally tiring of his self imposed exile and seeking out the companionship of those who do not hate him for what he is. At least for a little while. He knows that this is not likely to last for long, eventually words or bullets will fly and he will be back alone on the dusty road until loneliness forces him to seek companionship yet again.

Finally when the others begin speaking of plans her shakes himself from his melancholy and begins to reassemble his rifle with clean practiced movements that speak of a relative lifetime of muscle memory. He nods to Mercy as his hands continue to work at his weapon. "They were desperate, I doubt they left any men behind. They attacked us with the ferocity of cornered animals. If there is anything of value left in their camp, wherever it may be. Chances are that it is water, water is heavy and hard to transport. Prey to your god, and if they are good perhaps they had some kind of heavy foodstuffs as well." He thinks back to the desperation of the attack, and the whipcord thin bodies on some of their attackers. "Though I would not bed our survival on it. I will take my bike back. It should have enough fuel to get me there, and it has two empty jerry cans if I find a water source. And I have cords if they have some nicely prepared for us."

He turns towards the door slinging his rifle over one shoulder before running his roughly calloused hands over one of the horns sweeping back beside his head. "Make sure that you search our fallen allies vehicles, friends though they may have been many will still choose themselves over their comrades." Turning his demonic visage away from the others he heads quickly towards his bike, slowly checking it over before mounting it with ease. Lifting his canteen to his lips he takes a small sip, hearing the liquid within it slosh and feeling it's deceptive weight. In this heat? It will not be enough, not nearly enough. Finally he kicks his leg down savagely once, and then twice before the satisfying roar of his powerful beasts rends the air with its fury. He calls out over the roar, barely audible over the savage noise. "That firefight was long and loud, they know we are hurting. Watch for the vultures."

[Assistant]
There was a frown to cross Mercy's lips as she rests her hands on her hips, a stance of contemplation as much as any other emotion it might convey. Always easier for her to think these days when she had her weapon close at hand and certainly easier to keep on living these days.

Trust the scout to want to keep moving, but he wasn't entirely wrong. They needed more supplies and water most of all. The comment about them likely having set up at a water source or storage certainly made sense enough to her. Even so...

"The bike is loud," she calls, a point that makes itself rather clear when she has to raise her voice. "It'll draw nearly as much attention as any firefight, but we'll need it to look for this camp." There's a sigh from the fair gunslinger before she turns back, looking towards the tinkering gnome and the conjurer with his secret scales she'd never given any indication of knowing about. "But my guns aren't exactly silent either. We'll go ahead for a bit, see if Endre can track them back a ways. Maybe even find some water."

One hand lifting to the pendant at her neck, those gloved digits gift a gentle squeeze before she continues addressing the others. "Follow along or stay here and see what you can do about fortifying this place enough for us to get back on our feet. If Zim can strip parts down or get us some fuel from a wreck, we may just be able to move on with a little more range."

To the Serpent in disguise? She gestures to where their travel bags rest tucked in the corner. "If anyone's going to be able to make sure the water from here or there is safe to drink or any other supplies we have aren't contaminated? It's probably you."
Whatever the others decide, Mercy knew enough to know that there were three things she was good at in this world more than anything. This wasn't the time for music and dance, they'd healed all the wounds that could be treated. That just left the violence that would almost certainly be waiting in the direction of the bandit camp if they could find it.

Hand on her hat to ensure it remained in place, she reached up to try and haul herself onto the back of the bike if there was room. She sure as hell wasn't going to be able to keep up on foot!

[User]
Endre waits astride his bike as Mercy adds her last minute thoughts, carefully checking over the last of his straps and bikes gauges before he sets of properly. The last thing they need is for his bike to go down halfway back, forcing them to try and lug 80kg of water on top of their usual gear. Not impossible, but it would sure as shit make a bad day a lot worse.

"No matter what we do, we will be drawing attention too ourselves after a fight like that. At least with a bike we can move fast and relativly easily over rough terrain. Unless they have similarly capable vehicles we should be able to outrun anyone that is looking to make trouble for us, with a little luck anyway." He nods his head at her before once again running a hand down his right horn, perhaps a calming gesture after everything that has happened. "Besides like you said, if we end up having to shoot? Well noise isn't really going to matter then."

"At the very least it should let me continue to keep scouting for good scavenging opportunities and water sources if we can find enough fuel to keep me going. Hell with the right parts if we can reach 'civilization' at least we should be able to trade for enough to keep us going." He reaches back behind himself and helps Mercy sit herself properly behind him, unsure if she has ever been on a bike before. "Put your arms around my waist and hold on tight. If you feel me leaning try and go with me. Don't panic if we hit large bumps, or things will just get worse."  Finally he kicks his foot down, putting the bike into first gear before taking off with a roar that quickly dulls before kicking up again as he works his way up through the gears. Time to see if these bastards left a rear guard, or if they even had any spare water to begin with at all.

[Assistant]
S'Hraa sat silently, considering his limited options. He could go with the others, but that did not sound right. Zim will be all alone and vulnerable. He has not even moved from his spot yet, likely still saddened by the loss. His only other option, staying, means he needs to fortify the location in case some other roving band of raiders near. Though he doubts the four of them could last against another onslaught like the last one. No, the best option would be to hide. Can't get hit if you can't be seen right? And who better suited for hiding than himself?

Magic is out the window though, to hide the camp will require materials he does not have, not to mention hiding the magical energy is a much harder task. An illusion big enough for the camp will light up like a Christmas tree to anyone with the know how of spotting it. More mundane methods would be simpler and better. Covering footsteps left in the ground, hiding their location, and disguising other signs of life is a skill he has had plenty of time and opportunity to develop. After a few hours of work, one would hardly think anybody was around. As long as the group was careful to keep hidden it seems unlikely anyone would find them, they would have to actively search their particular building out of the dozens of others which did not seem likely. S'Hraa would have to remember to tell the other two when they get back to keep their tracks hidden and especially the bike.

The last thing to do is what Mercy suggested. She reasoned right when she thought he was suited for determining if any resources were safe to consume. His excellent sense of smell can let him determine if anything is poisonous, started to rot, or anything else that can determine the safety of something as far as smelling something can go. Fortunately, the food is safe enough, even if he can't eat it as his stomach can normally handle only something fresh and only recently killed. The water, what little they have, will be fine after boiling it to remove some of the diluted contaminants out. Hopefully what the others bring when they come back will prove safe enough as well.


[System]
Information: Cécile, along with her brother Adrien, form a deadly tag team. They both have almost identical decks and both favour a set of Red-Eyes, this is in part due to their grandfather giving them his only Red-Eyes and from then on they strived to both have a set after he passed away. They then both built a deck around the Red-Eyes and became a local legend in france for being the best tag team around. This of course might just be an exaggeration, but if it is they hide it well because to this day they have never lost a two on two, or a tag style match.
Age: 16

Deck Theme: Red-Eyes

Ace Monster: Red-Eyes Darkness Dragon (Original/Still Uses), Dark Armed Dragon (New Ace Monster)

Summon Method: He has some xyz monsters but he normally sticks with just regular monsters honestly, but he has more of those than any special kind of card.

Features:

Information: Other than the fact that Adrien and his sister are team legends back in their hometown located in France, not much is really known about the two other than they decided to go to school to imporve their game so they could become the worlds best team duelists, and better duelists individually as well.

[User]
The dragon had rushed up to Daemon and sent him flying to the side with the saw on it's chest, his lifepoints dropping to zero. The teen connected hard with the concrete, letting out an "Ow!" as he landed. That's the second time that happened! They got up again, feeling the after effects of that blow pretty well in his side and walked up to Adrien. By now his duel disk had gotten back into the "Standby" form, Daemon having put away his deck into his holder. "That was fun... Although I think we've been wasting a bit of time." His attitude took a swift U-turn from the duel, going back to the ditzy personality he showed before.

The boy looked to his side, looking at those who watched the duel start to walk away and some starting a duel of their own. Seemed like these two did some good, or bad, depending on how you take it. "So like... Am I still not talented enough to be walking around or...?"

[Assistant] Uther was speechless at the moment. Making three friends was surprising to him, especially since Uther had problems with making friends before. This left a small grin on the boy but soon after, it vanished when someone else showed up and threatened them to go back to their dorms. Daemon already left at the time so Uther couldn't chase after him and it's not like he can go out there by himself without getting lost. With only a few options he decided to hide behind Keio. "Will Xavier b-be all right? I mean about him dueling against t-that guy..." He only felt worried for Xavier because his opponent looked strong.


[System]
Chemist of the Night
ALIASES AND NICKNAMES: Jar, Chemist of the Night, JRock, The Cook.
AGE: 57
TURNED: June 4th, 1982

PERSONALITY:Fun-loving, dark-hearted, musical, calculating, hot-headed, passionate, mean-spirited and extremely ambitious. Don't let the rocker looks fool you, his business acumen is unmatched. His intelligence also makes him prideful and hard to get along with at times. Jareth also does everything with a dramatic - often theatrical and bordering on flamboyant - flair.

BIOGRAPHY: Jareth was at his prime in the late seventies and early eighties. He spent his days sleeping in and his nights getting drunk, high, and making music with the boys. Jareth was the lead singer and guitarist for Crim Son, a little band he started in his foster parents' garage - before they kicked him out, that is. I guess they didn't like the drugs, or his friends, or his music, or… him.

Even before vampirism - even with the excessive drug use - Jareth had a great mind, talent, and ambition on his side. His little garage band took off in the local Portland region, gaining a decent following and, fortunate for the boys, a few groupies. After a show one night, Jar was smoking out in the alley behind the bar when a hot little thing with fiery hair and a leather miniskirt approached him. Thinking her another groupie and always being one to objectify women, Jareth pinned her against the brick wall and kissed her hard and fast.

At his brutish reaction to her charm, the vampire woman clutched her hand around his chin and switched their position only to slam him against the wall with enough force to make him shudder. "No, no, little beauty. I'm going to teach you how to submit." She said in a purr.

Jareth can't remember much of what happened next, he remembers pain similar to getting a tattoo, except one his neck. He assumes that's when she bit him. But she didn't turn him then, oh no, that would have ruined all her fun. When he woke up he was tied up in leather and chains, coated in his own blood. She did things to him, evil torturous things, sometimes pleasurable things, and in a way it may have seemed like she was doing these things to show him that the way he treated women was wrong. But that wasn't the case, she was just evil, and her behavior only caused his hatred to grow, but Jareth was clever in his hatred. Such a clever boy.

The ruby-haired woman promised that if he should ever learn to submit to her, she would make him strong like she was, and he could be hers forever. Strength, Jareth craved to feel strong again, so he put his mind to work. He had convinced her that she had broken him, that he had come to love her in all the torture and time. So she turned him into a vampire, and as soon as he was able, he killed her.

It didn't take long for Jareth to figure out what his special powers were. His strengths in life became his strengths in death, as his brilliant mind constantly worked in overdrive. In the dawn of modern science, Jareth had a knack for things like chemistry and synthesis. And what did he do with his awesome powers, well he figured out how to make money, of course. Vampires, especially old vampires, get bored easily -They have an eternity to live, to explore, to contemplate, and they can't even get high? And what do vampires have a lot of, especially the older ones? Money, and they are more than willing to spend it, especially on the darker things in life.

Jareth got to work synthesizing a drug that works on vampires. He figured out a way to genetically and chemically alter human blood so that it gave vampires the effect of being high, a high much like that of tripping on acid. All vampires react to O-neg a bit differently, but for Jar, it gave him back the only thing he missed about his humanity: a way to escape his own mind. For some vampires it felt like ecstasy, or just pot, or acid, it could take you all the way up and then let you crash through the floorboards. For Jareth, it gave him back the inspiration he needed to continue with his music, it stopped the endless thinking, thinking, thinking…

Vampires took to O-neg like kids in a candy store, and before long, Jareth was one of the youngest extremely wealthy vampires in the US. Wealthy, but not famous, Jareth wasn't stupid; He kept his recipe hidden in his head and his work severely underground. In his travels, Jareth met Theo and they bonded like two f**ked up peas in a pod. Jareth is the money and brains behind Blod, and Theo is the brute strength. Theo was just the person that Jar needed to find in order to keep him safe from his own ambitious ways.

FAMILY: Rogue – Blod family member. Jareth keeps his membership to Blod a secret, much like his O-neg lab. Even Adelisa wouldn't recognize him as a Blod member… the only one who knows, and the only one who matters, is Theo.

POWER: Brilliant Mind. The whole idea of people having a stronger left brain or right brain doesn't apply to Jareth, he excels at both the arts and sciences. He is what the humans would call a bonafide genius. That being said, his mind is his own strength and weakness – it is impermeable to compulsion and mental manipulation, but his intelligence hinders his perception of social cues and morality.

SIDES: Downright evil. He likes other vampires, but he seeks out the fall of the other established families in the city, desiring to have the whole city in O-neg's grasp. Jareth is more than willing to drink from and kill humans. He is also known to be an extreme misogynist.

WEAPON:Chemical warfare, where he lacks in strength, he makes up for in intelligence and crafty weaponry. Homemade bombs and acids, chemicals and fire, those sorts of things are his forte.

OTHER:Don't let the rocker chic and the charm fool you, Jareth is NOT one of the good guys.

[Assistant] Adelisa's lips turned up into a grimace. "And you can hide behind your family and large home. You have no clue what it's really like out there do you? You may think you do, but you're no rogue. You just think you're a big shot because of all the little pawns you have. All I was doing was trying to help." She gritted her teeth slightly, calming herself down before things got out of hand. She looked over at the woman and sighed, walking towards her without a care in the world. "You, miss, are quite strategic, but you're going to need a lot more protection against what is about to come." As she said this, she looked over at her head wound and shrugged. "You, of course, are too headstrong to believe anything can hurt you." Adelisa smiled at the man with a sickeningly sweet smile and said "the name is Adelisa, by the way. Not rogue or darling. Adelisa." She stood with as much confidence as she could muster, showing she really wasn't afraid of them.

[User]
"Adelissssaaaa" Béatrix hissed the name, giving it a bit of her signature French flourish. The rogue vampire's blood coursed through her veins, coloring her thoughts and vision with things best left… well, up to your imagination.

Madness.

That's what drinking vampire blood did to most vampires. It could make you feel higher than the tallest mountain and lower than the deepest trench, all at the same time. Emotions were heightened, feelings intensified. I guess it could be what humans would describe as an adrenaline rush, but it completely surpassed that in every way. Adelisa's words grated on Trixy's patience, the nerve of this one. small. girl.

Madness.

That was the only thing evident in Trixy's eyes as they bore into Adelisa. With Alistair's approval, there was nothing holding her back. Come to think of it, could anything ever really hold her back? Béatrix used her special ability to push into Adelisa's mind, fishing for things like her age, her strength. Young, oh so young. Naïve as well. In moments, Trixy was upon the girl, shoving her against the wooden siding of the shore's snack hut. Her thumb pressed into Adelisa's right cheek as she gripped her throat with the rest of her fingers.

"I know what's out there girl. I know more of horror than you could ever imagine. Hell, oftentimes I am the horror. And I have spent more years fighting for myself than you have yet to grace this world with." Trixy took in a steady breath, trying to reign in her emotions. Loneliness, all those years fighting and bleeding, all alone. There was a darkness in her soul that was born and raised in those years. She pressed her eyes closed for the briefest of moments, driving out the emotions. The blood, it was just the vampire blood fucking with her mind.

"You think we hide? Blackmoores don't hide. We take, we fight, and we keep what is ours." Trixy said with force, who was she trying to convince? The girl, or herself? Her face softened when she thought of how Alistair came to check on her moments ago, how he offered her an arm in comfort. "That includes each other. That's what makes us stronger than you rogues. We choose to live for more than just ourselves." Trixy loosened her grip on the girls jaw and she looked down at the realization of her own words. Were her words even true? Where did that come from? The blood, yes, of course. Just the vampire blood.

Madness.

Never far, always in the corners of her mind. Trixy gave Adelisa a eerily bright smile. "Tell you what, darling rogue." She said, purposefully not saying the girls name in order to earn her ire. "I'm feeling a bit sprightly, I've decided to give you a head start." The dead coldness returned to her pale blue eyes as she hissed low through bared fangs.

"Run."

[Assistant]
Klaus kept his distance once he was close enough to gauge the scene; with his age, the scene was nearly clear from the cover off the tall buildings though he knew he wasn't invisible to an alert vampire. It seemed the slaughter was over and it had been vampire versus vampire. The expression on his face was a grim one, hidden by the shadows near the docks. Over the sound of the waves licking the docks and boats, a remaining rogue traded words with what appeared to be the Blackmoores' most dangerous vampires. She was talking herself into a corner, which was a shame, because otherwise he'd almost feel comfortable stepping in. He noted the Blackmoore woman's intensity, that she was high on vampire blood. Almost.

He remained a bystander even when Beatrix attacked the girl, only crossing his arms uncomfortably. For the moment, his attention turned on the family head who had allowed this to happen. Well at least Mira won't have to deal with the rogues, he thought to himself, eyes resting again on the rogue girl who was granted an opportunity to run. Not that it'd matter.

____________________________________________________________________

{idk what to write for mira right now and im supes tired anyway so i'll try to add something tomorrow}

[User]
Adelisa smirked slightly, almost anticipating her death. "No, I'm not going to run." She leaned her head to the side, shoving her collar down and showing the scars on her neck, readying herself for death. She saw from the corner of her eye another male, most likely another vampire. She looked down at the ground and removed her hand from the collar on her shirt, feeling slightly embarrassed for the sudden suicidal movement. Her cheeks flushed and she looked back up at the woman with a calming smile. "You, darling pawn, might want to be careful with how much vampire blood you consume. You see, one or two newly turned vampires can get you the high feeling of madness, but I am much older than a day. I am much older than a year. Those little ones were young. I, for one, am not." She stepped up to the woman and lightly placed her hand on the injured spot, healing it completely. "And as I see it, I have information you may need to keep your little chess peices alive."

She shrugged, stepping away from the woman. "But you are just going to die anyway." She waved and slipped back into darkness, moving with speed to her resting area. She didn't care if they followed her. It wasn't as if she had anything to hide. Her legs carried her to an abandoned shack that she was residing at for now. Adelisa sighed and threw open the door and slamming it shut when she entered. She wasn't scared that she was most likely going to be chased here. She didn't care if she lived or died, but she knew what was coming. She knew why she was here.


[System]
(Similar to this, minus the royal attire and floating hair and glowing eyes.)
Alias: Abaddon

Alignment: Antihero (if needed he can be geared to playing as a villain)

Age: 18 (Casimir considers his age to be irrelevant now since he's technically stopped aging ever since he became Abaddon)

Background: There's no dramatic story to Casimir's life barring the fact he had the wonderful and riveting experience of getting caught in a violent explosion (set off by a villain no less). There's no joke about that as he'd tell you, and he was pretty much on the verge of death considering he began to find himself in a place that was clearly otherworldly. Ironically, it was here on the brink of death where his life would be changed forever. He was approached by a supernatural entity known as Drevenon, but as terrifying and powerful as it looked it seemed to be in pretty bad shape, much like he was. The entity proposed that the two bond together to avoid their doom, and also promised an ascension above his human nature and the acquisition of power that would make many tremble before him. Although he wasn't in any real position to inquire or bargain, Casimir was more than glad to accept Drevenon's offer. Why? Because even though there was no tremendous history to him, he has always held a wonder and strong envy of metahumans. Casimir felt inferior to them and hated the fact that he would either need to rely on them for protection as heroes, or be completely at their mercy as villains. On top of that, Casimir had always believed in the concepts of justice, vengeance, and punishment, but felt that they were never dealt properly by the established law and vigilante superheroes.
And so the two became one, and in his new, alternate form, Casimir called himself Abaddon. Drevenon's promise of power and fear came true as he quickly caught the attention of superheroes and villains alike with his bloody "hunts" for criminals and sadistic and terrifying battles against his enemies. Many of the city's heroic guilds pursued him at first because of this, but they eventually deemed him to fight for their cause of justice. Even then however... Abaddon's presence left its mark on some guilds who remain fearful and wary of him regardless.
As for Drevenon, it (or "he", as it is a masculine entity) is a powerful being from a place known as the Tenevric Realms, a vast and nightmarish expanse. He was more or less its primary ruler, but was challenged, usurped, and exiled by a being named Atahorr. Needing to survive, Drevenon chose Casimir as his host, and the two eventually ventured into the dark realms to take vengeance upon the Usurper Lord and prevent him from fulfilling his plan of extending his lordship to Earth's realm. Trekking through this place was no easy task, but it served as the perfect training grounds for Abaddon to truly hone his abilities. As the turmoil in Earth's realm increased because of Atahorr's influence, Abaddon eventually came to him and did battle. Hard fought and terrible, he prevailed and cast Atahorr into a torturous abyss of his new kingdom and ensured he would stay there for a nice, long while. He has since named the Tenevric Realms "Sheol", and uses it to imprison and torture his foes (or anything brought to him for "safekeeping").
Personality: Even as Abaddon, he's got a kind of silly personality that would be much more charming if it wasn't ruined by his completely twisted behavior. Sadistic, Abaddon enjoys hunting down his prey and always devises gruesome ways to fight, torture, and kill his targets.
When he's not being an all out psycho though, Abaddon (or in this case, Casimir) can be rather likeable barring the occasional morbid joke and ever present sly and proud behavior he has going on. For the most part, he acts his age and enjoys many of the same things most teenagers do.

Powers:
---Ascended Nature: Abaddon has had all of his physical and perceptive capabilities increased to superhuman levels, allowing him to be on par with many of the more physically oriented superhumans around. His increased perceptions make him excellent at sensing approaching threats and planning out attacks, which coupled with his physical skills, makes him a deadly foe to fight up close. He has a vast understanding of the arcane and supernatural, and is sought out in secret by certain groups or individual mages wishing to increase their knowledge and power over darker things.
Abaddon can survive in harsh or inhospitable environments, as he is now no longer exactly tied to the laws and limits of his humanity.
Partially non-corporeal, he is very resilient and can take large amounts of punishment. Abaddon is capable of spawning extra limbs and appendages from his body, and can also create or morph parts of his body into simple weapons such as blades and hammers. He can manipulate his entire being as well, becoming "liquid shadow", an amorphous and slithering form. While his ascended nature is impressive on its own, Abaddon's true strengths lie in his use of dark magic.
---The Devourer's Wrath: This is Abaddon's most powerful and signature power. It is an overwhelming crimson energy that is capable of deteriorating and destroying anything it comes into contact with, even things which are thought to be nigh indestructible. However, as everything has different levels of resilience, the time it takes to break down and destroy these things varies. Magical and natural energies, as well as supernatural entities, are especially vulnerable to the Devourer's Wrath as it can taint, degrade, and destroy them the longer they are exposed to it. (Note: A living being exposed to the crimson power IS capable of resisting destruction, but it is extremely painful to endure nonetheless and it will eventually begin to consume them). The Devourer's Wrath can be projected in a few different forms such as a simple stream of energy, orbs, lightning, or aura. Abaddon can channel it through himself to infuse his physical attacks with extra power too. The crimson power can also be used in a more defensive manner too, becoming a strong shield or surrounding aura that can absorb most attacks and takes quite a beating before it dissipates.
---Tartarean Aura: Different from the auras produced by the Devourer's Wrath, the Tartarean Aura is a powerful aura of fear. Abaddon can choose how strong the fear he inspires with his presence can be, and it can range from simple uneasiness to downright terror and despair. With it he can coax out the greatest fears of those around him, and once he has learned what those are, Abaddon can make those fears a very real manifestation.
---Tenevric Lordship: This section of Abaddon's powers is the most broad and diverse category. As lord over Sheol, Abaddon is always aware of what goes on within his realm. He can travel to and from it at will and is even able to use it as a nexus to travel into different realms outside of it and Earth. Ruling over its denizens, he can summon reinforcements from Sheol be they individual monsters and abominations to armies of demon soldiers (a feat of this magnitude will of course take some time and much effort). He is also able to manipulate Sheol's landscape, meaning he can do things such as completely change its layouts or use the treacherous environment to his advantage.
By merging parts of Sheol with portions of the reality of a realm he is in, Abaddon can warp those affected portions into nightmarish versions of themselves. Nightmares and aberrations from Sheol and from the minds of those caught within can manifest themselves then, and Abaddon can control the warped environment (albeit on a lesser scale).
Tenevric Lordship ties into Abaddon's knowledge over the arcane and supernatural. He has access to all sorts of powerful spells and magics, and knows the secrets to many obscure and dark rituals and arts such as necromancy.

Weaknesses: Abaddon has strange and strong aversion to extreme heat, fire, and powerful sounds. He hates being exposed to them because they can actually weaken and hurt him, gravely too if exposed long enough. The same applies to light and holy magic.
Since he is still just a teenager, he is prone to getting cocky and careless with all his power, and such moments can be easy openings for those who know how to exploit them.

Cake? Tres Leches is the shit.

[User]
The creatures rushed at Lucy, who transformed her arm into a bladed whip to slice at one. The clumsy attack was easily deflected - Lucy wasn't used to fighting in the air. However, even as the creatures closed in for the kill it became apparent that it wouldn't be so easy. Lucy's armour was hard to pierce with weak weapons, it's structure making it akin to plate mail in protective capability. Her clumsy attacks seldom hit, but they packed the punch of a gorilla's muscular structure. A landed blow shattered bone and sent the creature's flying back. In skill she was vastly outmatched, but the creatures simply weren't able to crush her armoured carapace.

What they WERE able to do, however, was tear at her wings. Out of necessity, these had been left unarmoured. Adding any form of plating would have made them too heavy, making even slow flight impossible. The bone blades ripped through the flesh, as one of the creatures ripped off the entire wing. The creature immediately regretted this decision, as the wing flowed around it's arm and began sprouting tiny mouths. It dug into the bones, devouring them and turning them to energy as the creature attempted to tear at it. No matter what it did, any attempt to kill it simply spread the infection farther, and soon it's entire body had been devoured.

Lucy hit the ground hard, crashing into - and through - a fountain. Water sprayed everywhere as he impact shattered the fountain's marble structure. She seemed smaller, the hollow structures she had formed for flight having been flattened by the impact. However, no real damage had been done by the fall. Her body was quite hard to kill, and as she sat up, the creatures rushed down after her. Here on the ground, however, she would have a far greater advantage.

The jelly that had devoured the skeleton creature landed near Lucy, swiftly rushing at her and becoming part of her body. She grew, growing more heavily muscled and armoured. What appeared to be a tree also merged with her, transforming her into a fairly massive figure, covered in the black exoskeleton. Four tentacles sprouted from her back and began striking at the foes surrounding her, ripping through them with ease, he blows pulverizing bones to dust. And every defeated skeleton creature was devoured, transformed into more nutrients for the ever-growing monstrosity.

[Assistant]
Thasseldar watched as one of the heros died to save him; yet he was too weak to lift a finger in assistance.

"Tellusvaxius... save them all..." he muttered, bringing up the name of an old religious figure from his homeworld. He used his remaining energies to call a final portal, one to a certain place that he had only seen once. A place of uncontested raw power that would be far too dangerous to invoke in any other circumstance... one that a junior Realmswalker could destroy an entire city with should it be done wrong.

Through the portal came a very small flare from the sun of his homeworld; a blue giant, as the humans called it. Small it was, but nonetheless destructive. It sent a heatwave of twisting, half-visible searing energy down the road, aimed directly at the army in front of him, starting fires with its very presence and creating a nearly deafening noise. If he was lucky it would cause major casualties and give the others a chance to win; if he wasn't it would simply destroy buildings and cause little damage to any living thing. It was the last he had, as after he cast it he fell unconscious.

[User]
Zelan was killed and destroyed by other attacks aimed at him. There was nothing left of him. not even a trace. There was no life left in Linia either. The fish men at this point had all retreated or been killed off due to variouse attacks on them. There was very little will left in them.

Cinia came up to the scene where Linia and Thesseldar was. One was unconciouse and the other was dead. Cinia fell to her knees at the sight of Linia's mangled body. Her eyes started to tear up and then she started to cry, others could be heard doing the same throughout the city. Linia's body had no light left in it, it was like a deflated jellyfish now barely a human form. There were multiple other heroes who had died as well from this attack. Multiple bodies littered the streets, both of the aquatics and the heroes, even some civilians.

Calamity meanwhile had been watching the entire battle unfold. He only smirked as he now knew that the city was weak. His search would come along much faster now as he sent out drones to search the city now. With nothing in his way he would find his family within a week.

[Assistant]
Even if he hadn't known the girl that long, seeing Linia get stabbed through the gut with Zelan's spear didn't exactly sit well with him. Abaddon formed a shadowy set of claws around him, but instead of killing him right then and there he had tossed him into the frantic army of sea creatures behind them. This would be the way the sea king would die: pathetically, trampled by his own subjects who were either unaware of him or too concerned for their own lives to stop and help him. He wanted to watch this, and could do so without concern due to the aquatic army being fed upon by his locusts...

"Huh?"

Abaddon sensed imminent danger engulfing and then detected a fluctuation of energy beneath the ground. He instinctively brought up an aura about him, a hazy, golden one that was designed to protect him from large amounts of damage. The same was done to Thasseldar (who had opened a portal to fry other fish men) and Linia.

A flash, then an explosion of debris and flame erupted from the ground as Shiro set off multiple explosives. Whatever was left of Zelan and his army was completely consumed by it (at least the troops within the explosion's radius). Due to the aura, the only thing that happened to Abaddon and his allies were them getting forcefully tossed about, but other than that, nothing major. Some of the flame and heat had touched Abaddon though, leaving him injured.

...

Moments passed, and the chaos finally died down. Abaddon dispelled the auras and looked around. Nothing but a crater was left of this block of the city, along with one dead and horribly mangled locust. The others had left the area in pursuit of fleeing and hidden backup soldiers, so Abaddon called them back to him. He and the others would need a means of transport after what just happened... well, except for Linia. Her body was now lifeless. A damn shame honestly, for her to have been killed before her time... a friend of hers who had just arrived seemed to share the thought, because as soon as she saw her the girl dropped to her knees and broke out sobbing. Cinia's being dressed in a chicken costume would have been picked at for Abaddon's amusement under any other circumstances, but now... was obviously not the time. He allowed himself to revert to his human form and simply stood by in silence.

The surviving locusts would be here soon. Hopefully everyone else wasn't in as bad of condition as they looked...


[System]
T a f f yThe Healer

---
A G E

20

E T H N I C B A C K G R O U N D

Novan, Raccoon (Lotori)

D E S C R I P T I O N

-Raccoon-pattern Gray, Black and White Fur
-Raven-black hair with straight bangs and a long single braid that reaches down to the small of her back
-Red long-sleeved button-up shirt, jeans, hiking shoes

C A P A B I L I T I E S

Field Medic: Taffy has spent the last two years studying at the Medical Institute of Colosse to become a doctor. Part of this training is to give her an expert grasp of first aid, CPR, physical and massage therapy, lifeguard swimming and rescue, and the use of certain advanced Novan medical technologies to speed up healing and prevent infection. The Colossan Institute is very comprehensive in training medical experts, and Taffy is among the best students there.

Fit as a Fiddle: Taffy has dedicated a great amount of her personal time to keeping her body strong with gymwork and aerobic exercise, like hiking and swimming, during the past two years of medical study. While not especially stronger or faster than the average Novan, Taffy has a capacity for endurance and experience with camping on her own. She is able to slug onward through difficult conditions and is surprisingly physically tough.

Hard As Nails: Manifesting in a gruff outward shell of straightforward stubbornness, Taffy isn't interested in playing games or beating around the bush. Her terrible bedside manner aside, she has a powerful drive to become a better doctor and person, to be prepared for anything, as a result of a personal tragedy that happened shortly after her first year at the Colossan Institute. If she thinks someone needs help, she helps them, whether or not she likes them and whether or not they want the help. And pray for anyone who gets in her way, for she is full of flame and fury, and does not suffer fools lightly.

Also, she has a mean crotch-destroying kick, reserved for those who particularly raise her ire.

[User]
---

Yony Southeastern Mir - The Fall

---

The boy's eyes darted over to the feline as the creature fell into her. He jerked away, taking a defensive stance towards them both as Xell began to complain about the lack of light.

He slowly slipped the backpack off to the ground, not taking his eyes off the creature as he blindly rifled through it and pulled something out.

He'd seen this before, his adopted father lived through two wars, the result was moments nearly identical to what he'd just seen. Was this guy even aware of what he was? And what WAS he anyway?

*thud*

There was a soft noise of something meeting grass and soil at the Draconi's feet. He looked down, but it was hard to make out the object. Suddenly a beam of light shot from the boy's head, illuminating a small black torch on the ground.

The Lutran kept the headlamp focused on it, watching cautiously.

[Assistant]
---

M a xSoutheastern Mir - The Fall

---

"That's a weird looking flashlight."

Max raised a brow as he reached behind his jacket to his kit, and retrieved a similar but vastly different one. He had never seen a flashlight of Novan or Miran design look like the one the kid had thrown on the ground. As he reached down to the ground and swiped the piece of metal from the shrub-covered grass he looked over to Taffy before tossing it over while he turned on his personal flashlight. He figured two should have been good enough.

"Oi, catch. Even little girls know how to use 'em, yeh?"


[System]
* Age: 228
* Gender: Female
* Race: Sentient Undead (Human)
* Appearance:
 Though at one time as shiny and luminescent as pictured, Tyaethe's armour has lost much of its lustre due to a combination of two hundred years of constant use and an inability to perfectly clean it whilst in use. The result is a blurring of the intricate detailing on the paladin's shield and armour, and the shining metal is now a dull grey verging on black—when not coated in blood. It got cleaned. The scarf obscures how the throat is heavily armoured, beyond what one would expect of such an ensemble.
Though none still in the knights can say for certain what she looks like underneath all the armour, her eyes are clearly an unusually brilliant red and her hair white. Since the armour's on the intentionally bulky side and doesn't come off, it's not quite clear what Tyaethe's height is... though probably over six feet. Currently, she seems to be trapped in appearance as a child... though her armour's size doesn't quite mesh with the old paintings.
* Personality: If there's one thing that all her instructors tried to do, it was to cure Tyaethe of her temper. Fervour and determination in a battle is all well and good but carrying that attitude over to your everyday life? Despite their efforts, it was a fruitless endeavour and the tall paladin is as irascible as ever, though with enough self-control to avoid the worst outcomes.
At heart, Tyaethe is a dutiful knight and a good person. So despite her frequent anger, she has never once backed down on her duties or struck out at a child or someone truly innocent, even if rather aggressive verbally. Her unfaltering devotion to her duty—or anything else, as she seems too stubborn to ever back down—is best exemplified by her continued presence in the Iron Rose Knights, despite the drift from being a religious order.
Something more familiar to the newer recruits than the veterans is her sullenness and risk-taking. Not a behaviour always evident but at the same time a concerning trend, as if her patience for something is running out.
One trait carried over from her normal life is a dislike of being seen out of her armour. Since Elionne's death, this has exacerbated into a full refusal to remove it for any reason short of their first captain's return. Partly, at least, this is to prevent anyone from learning of her undeath and to preserve the idea of an immortal knight.
* Brief Backstory: Tyaethe was born to a minor noble family and, as the only child, was expected to carry on the family's duty as knights. To this end, at the age of seven, her education was entrusted to an important but highly religious duke that owed her father his life. It was for this reason that instead of continuing on to be a squire, the young Tyaethe pledged her service to the church and became a paladin.
As an adult, her strength and steadfast service was admirable, even though her hot-headed attitude caused friction with some of those she had to work with. It was for this reason that she was granted the honour of protecting the High Priestess and, when reports of an incoming force surfaced, left Falthir in order to conduct the fighting when she wouldn't be at risk. Naturally, this backfired and it was only Elionne's intervention that prevented the deception from being successful due to the diversion of the guards.
Owing the maiden for fulfilling her duty where she could not, Tyaethe swore to serve her in life and in death, second only to the goddesses. Part of the Iron Rose Knights since their inception, Tyaethe's death came in a pitched battle where their foes managed to split herself, Elionne, and some less experienced knights from the majority of their comrades.
The reason for her survival has never been perfectly explained. Some of the knights assumed it was just sheer luck and the high level of mana in the region and the more religious assigned it to divine intervention. Some of her detractors have even accused Tyaethe of dabbling in necromancy. As for the paladin herself, she cites her oath and willpower, as well as a refusal to go down whilst Elionne was still in danger. The fact of her undeath has been kept a secret within the knights, to cultivate a reputation as an immortal holy warrior, though doubtless people have guessed the truth.
Tyaethe has been unsurprisingly steadily more bitter since the original captain left, wanting to know why and find out what happened. Despite this, she has faithfully explained new captains their duties and guided them through it, even as the knights have drifted further and further from the religious unit she joined.
* Equipment: Forged nearly two hundred years before, the styling of Tyaethe's armour is antiquated to say the least—though the decorations, obscured as they are, resemble the current pieces made on the behalf of the church. Few people can move efficiently in such weighty protection, let alone adjust to how it restricts movement in order to fight but even going for its vulnerabilities leads to a difficult time in scoring a fatal injury. Of particular note is the one addition made before Elionne left: a reinforced gorget, to make even accidental decapitation even less likely.
Her other armament consists of a sword that most refuse to treat as one and an immense shield. Both are as long as she is tall and the sword itself unreasonably broad and tough; it crushes as much as it actually cuts. The shield, scratched though the design is over the years, contains a wolf rampant in its design—a lesser-used Mayonite symbol.
All three pieces were blessed and enchanted to regenerate under moonlight, since even before Tyaethe's death they took vast amounts of punishment and repairing them manually was prohibitively costly.
* Skills: Raised as a member of the nobility and intended to become a far more ordinary knight, Tyaethe knows falconry, board games, how to ride, and the social graces needed for polite company. All of these skills, save the riding—and that relies on draught horses in her case—are incredibly rusty skills due to neglect. Her literacy and ability to recite scripture on a whim, due to her training as a paladin, are as strong as ever.
In combat, Tyaethe's immense strength and armour leads to an approach best likened to an oncoming tide: she's not the most agile or that hard to hit but actually stopping her or resisting the offence is futile. Her speed can also be deceptive; she chooses to adopt a slow approach for psychological reasons and is more than capable of surging forwards to strike down a threat. Though a shield might seem redundant with such armour, she happily uses it as a second weapon or to force an opening from someone hoping to budge her defence.
With over a century of experience on her side and an initial training in the arts of warfare, Tyaethe is also a valuable tactical and strategic source—provided that you ask her opinion when she's not agitated in some manner and ensure that the reason Tyaethe suggests she be put in the thick of it is due to needing an immovable obstacle.

[User]
"... Th-that's jut the kinds of things I meant!" Bethany said, desperately, in response to Tiral's questioning. Was she not getting herself across better? Ahh, this was a bad idea, wasn't it... no, no, she had to focus and try and thing through. She was trying to be helpful, after all. She took a deep breath to try and calm herself down, exhaling heavily as she did, then inhaling once more. Calm down. Relax. Just reply.

"I-I have both. Guilder's modified scrying spell is p-perfect for the latter," she responded, "This is exactly what I mean, th-though! What you n-need is to build your spell l-library, so you can contribute in b-battle both in the front lines and in back. Y-you're above average in terms of magil, so y-you shouldn't be tiring easily."

There. That was... helpful, wasn't it?

---

As the argument escalated, the Princess's mood soured further and further. These were the Noble Iron Rose Knights, and yet here... not only were they speaking so ill of their captain, but they also showed no faith in their tradition. Certainly, Fanilly was inexperienced, but... wasn't Saint Elionne no older then sixteen, as well? Eliabelle herself was merely sixteen! This lack of faith almost felt like a personal insult. And then to mount an attack on the Immortal Knight herself... to say the least, the Princess had gone from cheerful to furious in a rather short span of time.

By the time another of the knights, one who was a foreign nobleman as well, approached and introduced himself, she was in no mood to talk.

"I'm sorry, Count Thorn," she began, her voice wavering but level as she turned to look away from the knights, "But I'm no longer in a mood to talk. The faithlessness of petulant children in knight's armor has thoroughly soured my mo-ah?!"

Eliabelle felt a hand wrap around her wrist and begin pulling her away. Immediately, she looked to see who it was, and was surprised to see the confusingly-diminutive form of the Immortal Knight tugging her along through the crowds.

"M... Marmalade? Ah, I haven't... eaten yet, er..." Eliabelle stumbled over herself, her anger cooling slightly as she was taken off-guard. Why she was introduced as a knight...?"

"Ah, er, you are, as I understand," she added, still rather off-center from her sudden abduction, "You... are a Duchess? I know you ascended to the position..."

She trailed off for a few moments...

---

Fanilly couldn't help but laugh a little to herself when she saw Tyaethe's reaction to Martina's comment. The smallish blonde probably wouldn't have acted so... physically, but that didn't stop her from finding it amusing. It helped cool the stress that she was reluctant to admit had been mounting slightly. She simply wasn't used to such large events, even as a noble girl. It didn't help that, moments later, there was quite a commotion from the direction Tyaethe had gone. Was there an argument? The Knight-Captain couldn't make out what was being said. Moments before she went to investigate, however, Tyaethe reappeared... dragging the Princess with her?

Fanilly looked on in shock as the taller girl came to a halt.

"P-Princess Eliabelle!" she said, abruptly, unprepared. She wasn't particularly composed or ready to speak with the Princess, but, well... there she was. "Your Highness, ah, this party has been splendid!"

And yet, the Princess seemed... flustered? Almost irritated...

"... I... I'm glad to hear that, Knight-Captain, and very happy to meet you at last," the Princess said, after taking a deep breath, "I'm pleased that you've been enjoying yourself, though I can't say the night has gone well any longer."

"... Ah? Your highness? What do you mean...?" Fanilly asked. Was this something to do with all that commotion...?

Before Eliabelle responded, Fanilly caught something out of the corner of her eye. It was... a pointed travelling hat? A long, bobbing staff? For a moment, the girl swore she saw the shape of a little girl... but as she turned to look entirely, she was gone.

What she did see was quite different.

A small, diminutive figure seemed to appear from no-where. She was female, by appearances, hooded and clad in a shirt and jacket, with leather armor on her arms and legs. She was incredibly short, and what could be glimpsed of her face was extremely pale skin, a bit of black hair hanging down beneath the hood, and crimson eyes.

The most important fact, however, was the small hand crossbow being leveled at the Princess.

Fanilly's eyes widened, and she did the first thing that came to mind.

"GET DOWN!"

She threw herself forward. Grabbing the surprised girl, she threw her to the ground, and felt a rush of air as the crossbow fired, and a bolt hurtled past them. It buried itself in the back wall.

Fanilly's head snapped up immediately, and she saw those crimson eyes widen.

"ASSASSIN!" the blonde girl cried, drawing her sword and leaping up to her feet, above a stunned and bewildered Eliabelle, "Iron Roses, to arms! Stop her!"

The small figure spun immediately and darted into the rapidly-clearing crowds. She was making for the exit...! How was it she hadn't been seen before?!

[Assistant]
Christina leaped forward as the bolt struck the wall. Silently cursing her inattentiveness, she was at her captain's side in an instant among the screaming crowd. She drew her dagger, a primarily defensive weapon suited for her. "Captain, I can guard the princess. The assassin may be running toward backup." Taking a defensive stance, she had already started whispering the Barrier spell under her breath.

Normally when she cast this spell, she used something metal as an anchor, but her shield was back at the Headquarters and the princess wasn't wearing any armor. Instead, Christina put more effort into the spell, willing it to settle into a dome around her and the princess. Only a slight shimmer in the air indicated that anything had happened, but the spell's effectiveness was confirmed when a nobleman ran full tilt into it, bouncing off and creating a ripple through the dome. Sweat beaded the knight's face as the spell drew more effort than it ever had before, but still she stood ready to fight anybody who made it inside her perimeter.


[System]
Age: 29

Class: Soldier (Acolyte?)

Equipment:
Bionic augmentaton: Ben's left arm, and both of his legs are bionic limbs. The lower half of his spine is made of metal, and his left eye is a red monocle, surrounded by scar tissue.

Power fist: Ben wears a power fist on his left hand.

Plasma Pistol: Ben's side arm of choice is a plasma pistol, useful for it's stopping power against the enemies that have burned Ben's home.

Shotgun: Ben's shotgun is a relic from his time on Armageddon, useful in the bloody close quarter fights he often found himself in with the green skins.

Background: Ben is from the underhive of Armageddon, Hive Tarterus. When the Orks attacked, the gangs enlisted in droves, finding a common enemy to defend the planet from. After a short basic training, lasting only two weeks, he was flung into battle. Age 20 when the war broke out, he fought for 5 constant years of hell, before being conscripted to the Inquisitor's aid.

Notable Deeds:
-Served 5 years in the third war for Armageddon.
-Received field promotion to Lieutenant and led his platoon in constant fighting actions for over a year.
-Led from the front, taking a trench by storm. Accounted for over a dozen Ork casualties, included the Warboss. The fight is where he suffered his near mortal injuries, and led to his augmentation.

Skills:
Veteran - Ben has seen some of the worst the galaxy can throw and has emerged the other side.
Hard to kill - Ben has suffered horrendous injuries at the hands, or rather klaws of the Orks. As such, his willpower to survive to fight another day is absolutely resolute.
Angel of Death - Although not as well known as commissar Yarrick, Ben was known among Orks as a man that was impossible to kill. His 5 years of war on Armageddon make him a master of dealing death to Orks should they ever rear their head.
Hatred - Ben hates orks.
Commander - Ben has proven himself as a skilled commander, especially of mechanized divisions. He doesn't actively look for the opportunities, but if needed, he will get the job done.

Time with Inquisitor: 4 years

Appearance: Ben is around 6 Feet tall in his full combat dress. He wears the mustard yellow great coat of his home legion, wearing his gas mask, goggles and helmet. His bionic limbs are hidden, but his power fist is now, worn over his gloved hand. His pistol is on his hip, and his shotgun is slung over his shoulder. He wears an inquisitorial rosette, on his collar, but it is small, and quickly concealable.

Out of uniform, he wears black pants, a gray tee-shirt and a leather coat that can hide a plasma pistol. He also wears leather gloves to conceal his bionics to blend in.

At one time, Ben was probably a handsome man. His hair is long on top, and shaved on the sides in a style that was popular in his old gang. His entire torso up to his neck line is covered in tattoos. His single human arm is also covered in various tattoos. He is unshaven, with a respectable beard, and his scar tissue around his left eye make him a rough looking person now. Under his real eye are usually shadows, caused by the night terrors that plague him.

[User]
" ... or should I find your soul wanting among the impure?"

Adrianne would turn around from the Inquisitor and instead look back towards the Sister of Battle through her skeletal visor, eyeing the sister for a moment. Though any facial expression was concealed behind her mask, she would raise an eyebrow at the sister's statement.

No words were spoken, but a cold staring duel would instead take place in the elevator between the Psyker and Aviza!

"Does she have an Imagifer stuck up her big butt or something!?"

Her fingers would grip harder around her staff as she glared back at Aviza, still not having uttered a sentence in return. Fortunately however, before things could go any further, Stukov would be the first to take action; the armsman suddenly getting between the psyker and the sister, a hot spot to be in if anything!

" ... so if we could put off infighting until after we are done with this mission, that would be good."

"You should learn from the armsman, sister." Adrianne would finally speak, focusing her attention on Aviza whilst motioning towards Stukov.
"Despite the lack of power armor, a bolter or ecclesiastical blessing, he is clearly far more wiser than you. I recommend you leave your dogmatism at the door, for bigotry is a weakness the daemons of Slaanesh love to exploit. They feed on pride."

Adrianne would remark, before turning to the rest of the party. There was really no point trying to hide it any longer, was it? Tossing a quick glance at Zhevon, Adrianne would look towards the rest of the group before slamming the button of the elevator, causing it go move down along the building down towards the parking lot.

"Yes, what I did feel back in the apartment was the aura of a Greater Daemon here on this planet. I recognized it because it is a presence I have felt before, back on Mordran V... "

Adrianne explained to the group, pausing for a moment.

" ... where I detected a Bloodthirster the moment it manifested on the planet." Biting her lips behind her mask, she looked across the rest of the group.
"Yet I cannot say for sure if this Greater Daemon just recently manifested on this planet. It could have been here for a long time for all I know for sure, masking its presence. Yet its presence is unmistakably real as of now. Whatever camouflage it may have used, it just made a slip, or intentionally decided to reveal its psychic presence."

Giving the group a few moments to digest the news as they traveled down in the elevator, the hum and clanking of the gears the only source of noise in the small confinement of the elevator, Adrianne would eventually continue.

"Make no mistakes, my friends." She said as she looked out at the group, but left her gaze on Aviza.
"We are facing a considerable foe. Forget about whatever threat assessment previously given to this planet. If the chaos cults on this planet have themselves a Greater Daemon on their side, the only thing that could be worse would be an all-out chaos invasion!"

[Assistant]
A metal snapping sound came from Aviza's heavily modified bolter as she snapped yet another attachment onto the side of it, a target designator and range finder. Having managed to find this device, she quickly took it and contemplated where the best place would be to attach it. In the end she decided to attach it next to the bolters scope, for easy accesses. Ranger finders are a device that measures the distance from the observer to a target. A target designator is a laser light source which is used to designate a target. Laser designators provide targeting for laser-guided bombs, missiles, or precision artillery munitions.

The chances were small but they could eventually end up with such support and when they did, she could direct those munitions with pinpoint accuracy upon the hostiles. While looking down at her bolter and adjusting the new modification, Aviza managed to catch what Stukov was saying to her. Slowly she raised her head to look at Stukov then very lightly tilted it to the left, "Do not speak of the Emperor in such a blasphemous way Stukov, this is your second warning. Adrianne chooses to withhold important information that is essential to our survival and the success of our mission."

After waiting quite a while for the squad to finely leave the apartment, Aviza walked alongside the Inquisitor without speaking to anyone. Inside of her helmet, she had turned on her own music which flooded her senses with satisfying sounds. The squad walked down the hallway and stepped inside of the elevator, Aviza switched the safety upon her bolter on once more before letting it rest upon her back. The music kept on playing for a while in the silence until Adrianne finely spoke. It was as if the Psyker had been trying to choose the exact words she wanted to say with extreme caution. What she said was not about the Greater Daemon but about how Stukov was wiser than her and that her dogmatism should be left at the door.

"You speak to me as if I am an unintelligent, egotistical chauvinist who thinks that she is infallible beyond all others. I know I am not the most amenable Adeptus Sororitas in the universe but none of those statements about me are true, including being dogmatic or a being a bigot. I am not concerned of the way I am viewed from within the squad, only that I hope we can carry out our mission and bring an end to this Greater Daemon."

Once the elevator reached the bottom floor, Aviza left the elevator first and quickly walked up to the transport truck, jumping into the back of it and readying her weapon for whatever may come next down the road or at the brothel. Once safely in her seat, she pressed a button on the side of her helmet and spoke to Adrianne privately, "One must keep up there act if they wish to keep their image intact, I will let you think on that."  Leaning back against the seat behind her, she turned on her music once more and waited.

[User]
"Its origin was that of a Greater Daemon." Adrianne stated. She paused to give Zhevon time to think. "I do not know its exact origin, but if I am to guess, I would suspect it to be a Keeper of Secrets, a Greater Daemon affiliated with Slaanesh. Hiding on a garden world is typical of their kind. We are going to need some heavy weapons and support if we are to deal with a Greater Daemon." She continued as they reached the elevator. "But I'm sure you already knew that." She quickly added.

Zhevon rubbed the bottom half of his faceplate and let out an "Mmm" of agreement, "I'll have to make some calls before I come to a decision on what to do about our problem." He replied. His mind went to several of his friends who were sure to help, if they could reach the planet in time. His train of thought was broken by their resident Sister of Battle, Aviza. She approached them and confronted Adrianne about the big problem. Zhevon inhaled to reply, but Stukov was quicker. He added his own thoughts to the confrontation, thoughts that Zhevon found himself agreeing with. Adrianne was then next to speak. Zhevon rubbed the back of his neck as he found no comfortable place for him to enter the conversation.

Soon they reached the ground floor and Aviza was the first one out and the first one into the truck. Zhevon waited a second just to be sure that nobody else had something to say. "Well." He began, letting out a long exhale, "Cults have been known to summon Greater Daemons to expand their influence on the world, eventually launching an invasion, and conquering the world easily once all their pieces are in place. If they plan to do that, we'll have some time still. I'll be sending some messages before I decide on what to do about it. For now, we will progress as usual." He said, taking his leave of the elevator and walking towards the truck. Once everyone had gotten in, Bravo began to drive, switching on the sirens to ensure a quick trip.

[Assistant]
Ben watched as the psyker told the Inquistor something private. He didn't really concern himself with it. But the sister was upset, and raised her weapon. Ben put his hand to his rifle, but didn't move, not sure what was going on. Ben rubbed his chin with his real hand, feeling stubble through his gloves.

He was growing tired of the Sister. That's when the psyker told them about the bloodthirster. Ben's stomach seized up, but hearing about a deamon was easier than dealing with one. A problem for the future, and he repressed any fear.

When the elevator arrived, Ben stepped in with the group. He followed the group out and watched the sister isolate herself again. Ben followed her into the truck, and looked at her. He pointed. "You. I need to talk to you right in private. Now." He said. He didn't know about the music, but he wagged his finger at her when he had her attention to convey his intent.

When the two were alone. Ben spoke before she could say anything. "You need to check your pride at the door. You are the newcomer here, not us. I don't need your stories, or your opinions. I need your gun." Ben spoke with the authority that had sent soldiers to their deaths at the hands of Orks. He continued. "We are not you. Do you understand that?" Ben asked, but the question was rhetorical. "There are things that soldiers need to know, and do not need to know. And the presence of a demon is not one of them. My mission is to help the Inquisitor. He determines what we need to know and do not need to know. And you need not undermine his authority any more." Ben paused. He produced an Inquisitorial rosette from his pocket. "Last I checked, this is the badge of the highest ranking Imperial office, appointed to enact the very will of the Emperor himself. Do you have one of these? Sister of the order Bloody rose? No, I thought not. Do I make myself clear? This is a yes or no question." Ben finished with, his face calm and blank, his red monocle of an eye reflecting Aviza's own visage back at her.

If Aviza said anything to the Veteran other than Yes or no, he would ignore her and look at the large Red and black I in his hand, and back up at her. Once she was done, he would put the Rosette back in his pocket, and climb into the passenger seat of the truck, and smile to Bravo. "Ever heard of Armageddon? I feel more comfortable in the front of anything with wheels or treads."

Bravo and Ben made small talk about vehicles, half tracks, tanks, and artillery pieces and the things they did as they drove rapidly through the city.

The brothel could be seen for blocks. Or the aftermath of it. The fire illuminated the sky and the black column of smoke stretched off into the sky reaching for the heavens. The black smoke was underlit by the fire, but once the light faded it blended seamlessly into a sky with no stars. Once within a few blocks, Bravo turned off the sirens, and a dull roar could be heard.

The mob was loud, raucous, rambunctious. The arbiters were issuing demands. When Bravo pulled up and parked, Ben looked over at the mass of bodies. There was a wall of shields between the Arbiters and the mob. There was a woman on a truck yelling at the mob, rising from the masses. The view was impressive, backlit by a roaring fire, the mob was very intimidating.

The arrival of the truck would prove to be the straw that broke the camel's back. Ben brought his wrist up to his mouth, pressing the key in his glove, keying up his mic. "Alright, maybe a peacefu-" The mob fired, and the woman screamed. The mob charged the Arbiter wall. A few broke, but the majority stood. Potshots bounced off the truck, making loud 'pings'.

Ben sighed. "New plan. Pick targets, there are a lot out there. Try to only fire when fired upon. Looks like one of your friends is out there, sister. We need to get in that building." Ben opened the door of the truck and stepped out, raising his weapon to his shoulder and firing single flashes of red light at the mob, picking ones with firearms as his targets. Hopefully the Arbiters recognized the squad as friendlies.


[System]
Age: 18

Gender: Female

Race: Hundi

Class: Monk

Appearance: Haruka is rather short and has a very petit build. Good for martial arts, but not so good for not being mistaken for a boy. She has short dog ears that tend to stick straight up, and her skin is tan as she spends most of her time outdoors. Her hair is short and black while her tail is rather fluffy, and is of the type that turns up and curls slightly. Her eyes are dark brown. Being the scrappy little thing she is, she has a few cuts and scars here and there. She generally wears the yellow robes associated with her temple, along with a pendant shaped like the sun. This was given to her by her master, and is very precious to her.

Personality: Haruka can be rather hot-headed and act rashly, but she always means the best. Haruka isn't super bright except when it comes to combat, thus she tends to offer half-baked ideas on the spur of the moment. She's generally very kind and tries to always stay optimistic, even when things seem grim.

Brief Backstory: Haruka was dropped off at an Eastern temple when she was a baby in the dead of night, leaving the monks there to raise her. They did so happily, never having seen a Hundi before but taking the dog-girl as a sign of good fortune. Most of the monks were very calm and quiet folks, but Haruka was always very energetic and enthusiastic. Well, at least when it came to training her body. Book learning didn't go quite so well, but the monks there always adored her all the same. One monk in particular got along with her very well, and they trained together often. While the monk was old, his skill in the martial arts was unmatched even by the other monks. His training could be harsh at times, but Haruka completed each task until there was nothing left to learn. Then, one night soon after the final lesson, her master was slain by a lone swordsman. She decided then and there that she would leave the temple that had been her home for so long to find the person who killed her master and avenge him at the tender young age of 16 (A part of Hundi tradition, but completely unbeknownst to her). She finds herself currently quite far from home, in a strange new land very different from what she had known. As she was the only one of her kind known to her in the east, she was surprised to learn that there were many more besides her and even more surprised at their traditions. She was defeated multiple times by her master during training, but the fact that he was now dead made marriage somewhat impossible for her. Thus, she decided to marry the first other person who could beat her after learning of the Hundi's cultural rule. After all, the only person who had ever beaten her was her master. If anyone else could do it, they must be equally amazing. In addition, though she was separated from other Hundi and their culture throughout most of her life, Haruka is an honorable and honest girl none the less, making her transition from culture to culture a little easier. She's everything one might expect from an honorable Hundi.

Equipment: Rope, throwing stars, sun pendant, rations, a waterskin, herbs, poultices, tinctures, salves.

Abilities: Haruka's body, having been through rigorous secret eastern training, is overflowing with ki that modifies her base properties. Poisons and diseases are driven away more quickly than they can take root, and her mind cannot be tampered with. In addition, she is always stronger and faster than most humanoids of her build could be. Her body is as iron, her fists are as steel, and her speed is like that of a cheetah. She can also channel her ki into other living things to stun them or into inanimate objects to shatter them. After the death of her master, she has been taking her mental studies more seriously. While she is still not the sharpest knife in the drawer, she has become somewhat skilled in medicines and herbal healing, believing that if she knew more about those things she could have possibly saved her master. In addition, she's become somewhat fluent in western language although there are still many words she doesn't know. When surprised, flustered, or overexcited she tends to have a tougher time stringing the words together.

[User]
"That's easy, boss. You're not thinking like an explorer. Or a thief. Or anyone who doesn't use the front door. It's alright; you'll get used to it." Al said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"See, you gotta think in terms of... you know. This." he tried to explain by waving his arms around. "Look. The top bit crumbled down to where it ain't nothing. So if the front door's trapped from the inside, we'll send someone to the other end, disarm the traps, and kindly unlock the door for us."
He pointed up. "I can totally throw someone light up to that ledge there. Or, y'know, smash the door and hope the trap breaks."

[Assistant]
Vendrael took a moment to recollect his thoughts as the group neared their destination. The journey from his home past the Veil to the center of the land of humans had by no means been an easy one; the various scorch marks scattered across the land proved as much. Lightning could spark a flame, yes, but at the same time...

The young high elf quickly pushed those thoughts out of his head; every single time that he had set a fire, it had never done anything worse than burn down a tree or two. There were more than enough of those, so what did a few piles of ash along the road matter?

Nevertheless, his journey had been one with... Rather lackluster incidents. If a beast of some sort attacked him, he had left it paralyzed on the ground and left nature to take its course. If bandits had ambushed him, a sudden flash of bright light (even in the middle of the day!) was all it took to buy him enough time for a quick getaway.

And yet nobody anywhere seemed to have anything in regards to what he was looking for. No advances in technology, no leaps in magic... Nothing. Then again, it wasn't as if any of the rural villages he passed through would have any of those in the first place, but still...

The further he ventured into this foreign land, however, the livelier and more advanced it became; what was initially simple villages turned into bustling towns, and then...

Well, the first thing to do was to get some sort of drink, and one thing led to another, and now...
Here he was. Granted, it seemed like nobody was calling him out on being an elf, a fact which amused him; did he look 'normal' enough to pass for a human, or were his kind common enough to not make it worth mentioning?

...

Well, that matter could wait. For now, his... Erm... "Employer" was calling for action. They were supposed to delve to the bottom and kill some sort of unholy abomination or something, right? The rewards didn't interest him as much as the possibility of forgotten ancient tests did, but...

"If the building's as old as you're making it out to be, miss, then I assume someone's probably already blown a hole in it..."

In a deliberate attempt to move as far away from the musclehead offering to throw someone to the top of the tower, Veldrael began to walk around the perimeter of the tower, in hopes that his theory was right. Not many buildings could stand this long unscathed, after all.

[User]
Olivie, too, examined the crumbling ruin from a seated position and wondered if the insides matched the legends. It was the sort of thing that she'd grown up on, after all. Al's offer to... throw someone to a ledge and try and break in seemed a bit questionable; what if they fell through the roof? Or could be put that high with less danger involved.

More importantly however, the door was still shut. This held a bit more significance than was immediately apparent, due to the simple fact that they had some idea what was inside beyond the legendary 'trapped castle'.

"I think you miss the easier solution, Mr. Valkanos. The door is shut fast, yet we know of rats inside. This is not the first time that adventurers have ventured into these ruins. Nay, there must be a trap-less path towards the interior," the half-giant reasoned, eyes following the elf as he went in search of a breach.

Given the risk of someone being attacked on their own, Olivie rose from the grass and strode after him, slowing once the gap was closed.

[Assistant]
Segi wasn't particularly excited to work with the Reonese Paladin, or any of the others that had composed their party. However it was necessity that he traveled with them; he had no allusions to his own skills. He would certainly perish if he undertook the inspection of the castle himself. The Church of Mayon had their own interest in the ruins: To ascertain if Haldric succeeded in his search for immortality, and eliminate him in the unlikely case that he did. Of course, even if Haldric had perished it would be a valuable public service to clear the ruins of any undead abominations. So the task was placed upon Segi, who was known in the Church for his great knowledge and skill. Segi, of course, didn't breath a word of his intents to his party. To them he would not be an Inquisitor of the Mayonites; instead he was merely an adventurer in search of some loot, not dissimilar to most of them. Perhaps, in time, he may trust the Paladin with his identity if she proved reliable, but for now it would remain a secret. Inquisitors had a dour reputation among the populace, seen as gloomy agents of divine justice.

Or something like that.

For the time being Segi would help his companions enter the castle. The Paladin was correct, of course. He had done his research into the building- the front door certainly wasn't the way to go in this situation. He cleared his throat, "If I might input, I would agree with Miss Olivie. There are other ways into the keep, judging by its inhabitants. However I do wish to echo some words of warning: this castle was as much a prison for its inhabitants as it was a fortress. It is unlikely that there will be an easy way to shut off the traps within, certainly not anything as simple as an 'off' switch. It is also unlikely we'll find something quite so easy as a back-path in, if the books are to be belived our King Haldric wouldn't have a safe path in our out- after all, it is called the Prison-Castle for a reason. Rats can find many ways in we won't be able to access- especially you, Miss Olivie," He said, the ghost of a bemused smirk on his face, "We could hope for another path in our a convenient hole in the wall, however if we do not find one there is another way in," Segi pointed up towards the crumbling tower, "Mister Valkanos' suggestion is a viable path in. If it comes to that I would volunteer myself for the task- I already know much of the mechanisms within and could make a try of clearing the path."

Segi stroked his whiskers, once again allowing a smirk to creep onto his face, "Of course the hole in the wall is preferred, so let's hope for that." He said, joining the others in the survey of the tower, running his hands across the stones of the building, hoping perhaps for some convenient hidden mechanism.