[System]
Lord of the Tower

Age: Unknown, but appears to be late middle aged for an elf.
Race: Elf
Physical Description: Andrastos is a tall, lean elf with sharp grey eyes that easily make you feel as though he can read your thoughts, much like looking into the face of hawk. His features are always intense and stern, but never harsh enough to display any sort of emotion. His long, brown hair is always kept in a mix of braids and ornate gold bands, with his thick beard done in the same fashion. His clothes usually made of simple, light materials with ornate embroidery along the collar and arms. In the colder months and areas, he dones himself with heavy leather gear that looks more like light armor than clothing and a fur-lined cloak.
Title/Rank: Lord of the Tower
Personality: Serious, intense, and calculating.
Character History: There are very few elves who remember when Lord Adrastos was named Lord of the Tower, and even fewer that remember him as a child. His past is shrouded in mystery to non-elves, for even most elves refuse to mention it if they do know the tales. His rule is well respected by all of Evolin, thus why there was very little complaint about no other Tower Elves being named when the last few passed into the afterlife. In recent history, whispers of Lord Adrastos frequenting the Northern King (their oldest enemy) has caused some stir, and now some guild-masters move to have the council remove Lord Adrastos from his seat of power... for many of them profit from the constant war in the borderlands. (**If you are going to play an elf with more knowledge about Andrastos, please PM me for details**).
Regional History: ***This will be completed when we have elf players. I want to give people a chance to create their own history and weave it into the Regional History.***

---

Sifora Dalgaard
Princess of the North

Age: 17
Race: Human (North)
Physical Description: Sifora has skin as pale as the snow of the North and blue eyes like the glacier lake that gives life to all the North. Like all of her kin before her, Sifora has raven black hair that is straight even when wind-tattered. Standing at an average height, Sifora despite an athletic frame, seems quite frail amongst the northerners, who are a tall, stocky breed of humans.
Title/Rank: Princess of the North (and heir to the crown)
Personality: Confident (almost to a fault), passionate, stubborn, and perceptive.
Character History: First born of King Jassard and Queen Emalia (Princess of the South and aunt to the current King of the South), Sifora disappointed many... except that of her parents. They were proud of their daughter, despite the kingdom wishing for a male heir. Like most royal children, she was well versed in everything from logic, history, to art and music. Throughout her early years, the Queen conceived and lost many pregnancies, some of which nearly took the southern woman's life.... and then, when Sifora was five, the Queen did finally die in the throws of early labor, leaving a small, damaged boy in her place. Shayden, Sifora's brother, was weakly and always two steps from death's door. The kingdom grieved over the loss of the queen, praising her for bringing King Jassard a son into the world even if it cost her her life. Little did that know that the damage would never be undone... for the young lad would never speak... would never comprehend beyond that of a toddler... and would never be able to rule.

As the children grew older, King Jassard worked hard to ensure that no one questioned his daughter as his heir, having her even train with his closest General, Lord Erik Olofsson, a quite man from the furthest reaches of the North where the sunlight hid for a good part of the year. A rather weak fighter, Sifora made up for her shortcomings with her speed and her passion. She would never make it on the battle field, but could defend herself well enough to survive a surprise attack. Taking to the bow rather than the sword, the young Princess filled her time as a young teen studying war and tactics, instead of needle point and dance.

Out of fear that the traditionalists, a group of High Lords who did not like the King naming his daughter heir, Sifora was hidden away from society and surrounded her by only his most trusted men and advisors... and of course, her brother. Closed in the black stone halls of the Castle, Sifora grew protective of her inner circle; her father, her brother, and Lord Erik. Anyone outside of this circle was held at arms length, which grew to be a huge challenge when her father fell ill just after her seventeenth birthday. As her father's health quickly declines, it is apparent that she must leave the walls around her and garner favor of the Council of Lords... before her father's last breath.

Regional History: There is very little history of note for the North. When looking as far back as one can in the historical scrolls, the Northers have been fighting to protect their Ice-Diamond mines from the Elves (who claim they were stolen from them) and trading off weapons and furs to the South. There are rumors that the southern King, King Jassard's nephew, has been plotting against his uncle after he turned down an offer of a marriage between Princess Sifora and himself. Some even say the King had offered his daughter to the elf Lord instead, to further anger the southern King. All are unconfirmed rumors, but have permeated enough of polite gossip that they are stated as if fact. With King Jassard's health is in quick decline and his end inevitable, the Council of the High Lords are starting to show their colors... either by aligning themselves behind the Princess, or by otherwise plotting.

---

NPCs

Erik Olofsson
General of the North

AGE: 58
NOTES: Is of noble birth but does not hold lands (his older brother does). He has no kids and has been at the King's side since a young lad. The two have ridden into battle many... many times. He is stoic... and is built like a bear.

Shaydon Dalgaard
Prince of the North

AGE: 12
NOTES: Has mental deficiencies due to complications at birth. Does not talk and only comprehends like a young toddler. Has a natural connection with animals and is scared of anything loud.

Sybilla Rior
Nomad; White Tent Clan

AGE: Appears to be mid 20s
NOTES: More to come.

[User]
Characters: Various Erikson household NPCs
Location: The North--Erikson Mansion

The half melted snow of summer slowly began to glitter in the twilight on the grounds of the Erikson Mansion. The twilight was too bright for the nocturnal critters to scurry about and the daytime life had still not crawled from their various homes. Only the soft bubbling of the property's stream gave the cool morning any sign of life. Inside those dark stone walls, however, the flow of life hardly ever ceased. Below the main floors in a massive kitchen, a never ending flock of men and women fluttered about day and night. The High Lord and his family, like most of the council Lords, had never known hunger... especially those in which owned Ice Diamond mines.

"-well I don' know how they do et in tha capital, but givin' the poor cook less than a days notice-" Grumbled a rather large, round woman began, her red face glistening in the candle light with the efforts of rolling out the dough. She gave the dough a rather aggressive punch before continuing. "-it just don't seem right..."

A tired looking man with a well trimmed beard and a tunic of leather stood next to the baker's table, a sigh escaping his lips that were pressed into a thin line. "I understand, Tilda... but this is her royal highness, not some common lady calling upon Lord Erikson and his family. This could very well set up the Lord for success...... or failure."

"No need to get dramatic, Valcore." She grunted, flashing a half smile at the Steward. "I will get breakfast going an' then sit down withcha to plan out a few meal options for Lady Erikson to choose...." Tilda's smoky voice trailed off along with her grass green eyes towards where a rather buxom girl covered in flour stood, peering down the main hall expectantly. "POPPY!" The cook barked.

The poor girl spun around. "Ma'am?!"

"If my tarts end up flat because yer daydreaming after that Erikson bastard again, I am going to beat you until your ears bleed!" Tilda roared, holding up the rolling pin, a cloud of flour filling the room from the sudden upward movement.

"Yes, ma'am." Poppy muttered softly, jumping back to her place.

"Come now, Tilda..." Valcore chided, picking up the opened missive from the capital from the table. "What else are bastards good for anyway, if not sending all the scullery maids into girlish fits and lustful daydreams, hmm?" And with that, the man headed to go prepare for his master to awake to the news that the future Queen and her entourage would arrive at the Erikson Mansion in less than a day.

[Assistant]
Viktor was always fond of waking up in the early hours of morning. There was a small sense of superiority in it, something small and meaningless to boost his ego, just the simple knowledge that his lazy brothers and useless sisters couldn't even manage to do that. Anyhow, the feeling didn't last long- he caught a glimpse of his window, and the twilight that struggled to be seen. His room was halfway underground, a compromise reached by his father and the Lady of the House. Viktor sleeping anywhere near her children's chambers would be a grave insult that would not be tolerated, and Viktor sleeping below the manor with the staff was an insult to Lord Erikson's blood. An easy answer was found: a tiny, damp, freezing room between two sets of stairs: halfway below ground, halfway up. He hated it, and smiled at the horrible little window like it was the most beautiful sight in the whole North.

Feet on the cold, stone ground, he got up and dressed himself, in blue and silver. He looked back at the sight on the old mirror that decorated his walls. Appearance would be the only luxury a bastard like him held onto. Thin, and long, and with his limbs too slender and lanky, he would never look like a proper Northern brute, but he could do something even better, he could look expensive, regal. Who would look at someone like him and think him a product of unholiness? He smiled at his own reflection, a smile that everybody hated.

Long legs carrying him down the stairs, Viktor adjusted his gloves as his feet stepped onto the main hall, his long, dark mane of hair slicked back. He liked to start the day by seeing how much he could aggravate the staff. This wasn't entirely malicious, as he preferred them eons better than the brats he shared part of his blood with, but being a nuisance always put him in the right mood. Besides, he was the only member of the family who would step into the kitchen out of his own free will, he must take advantage of that as much as he can.

"Quite the commotion, at an hour like this." Viktor walked in, smile big and white and irreverent across his face "You mustn't tell me you let the hounds eat Ola's special sweets again." This had, in fact, happened once, and had been entirely his doing.


[System]
Age: 26

Gender: Female

???: Y

Skills: Skilled pilot and capable enough mechanic, public oration, soothing spirits, quiet hymnals, photographic knowledge of relevant Scripture, Saturday morning cartoons.

Appearance: Standing at five and a half feet even and thin, the chaplain tends towards a naturally lithe, willowy figure. It's made easier to notice by her priest's robes, which are somewhat tighter than an average frock, and her standard-issue military uniform. Her rosary tends to hang from her slim neck no matter what outfit she wears, the polish blending into her dark skin. A pair of startlingly green eyes and stark white hair offset her natural skin tone, and the gentle smile she often wears is more than bright enough despite how faint it usually is. Off-duty or on Earth, she will often default to distinctly unholy sundresses (even daring to show her knees off) or casual blue jeans.

Personality: Even for a priest, Joan is atypically gentle and polite. In fact, it is difficult to even determine why such a beatific soul would want to be attached to a squadron of HFVs in the first place. In truth, it is both the excitement of the profession itself and her concern for those who thrive off that excitement - her understanding of the thrill of jockeying is most of what drives her to act as spiritual and psychological counsel for those on board Jannah. For those seeking something besides a sermon or advice, Joan is also surprisingly willing to get up to mild, good-natured mischief, which she explains away serenely as trying to bring a sense of levity to those few who choose to live in the moment.

Biography: For the first half of her life, the clergy was about as far away from Father Joan's long-term plans as you could get. Joan grew up with a passion for literature, whiling away her days reading voraciously and imagining lush fantasy lands and what lay in the farthest reaches of space. Growing up on Earth in an age of space colonies and evidence of extraterrestrials only kindled the fire of adventure in the young Earthling growing up, and she had no time to debate theology or dole out advice when there was adventure to be had.

Then, at the age of fourteen, Joan was in an enormous car wreck along with her parents and three older siblings. Though only her parents were wearing seat belts at the time, all four children nonetheless escaped the family van with more than moderate injuries. In the hospital, Joan was baptized, and told repeatedly that the family's good condition was nothing short of a miracle - an act of God. Never being particularly religious, or having much idea of what religion pertained to besides the pieces that had seeped into popular culture or modern idioms, Joan was now possessed with a childlike belief in miracles. Her path in life diverted as such, and upon graduation she went to school for philosophy and began a path to the clergy.

Upon leaving the seminary a year ago, Joan requested what must have seemed a bizarre choice for one who so nearly had her life taken by machinery as a child - the OSDT, where she was posted upon the spaceship Jannah to serve as a support pilot and adviser to the crew. In truth, she sees a little of herself in those who deign to pilot such dangerous vehicles, and seeks to give them the same peace of mind that the Father feels daily, and seeks to stave off any feelings of despair or loneliness with all her might.

>*******
>Enter
Model: XC|PT-003 "Judah"

Specialty: Prototype-Run Quadrupedal Testbed HFV

History: (See File: "Project Overview" located in 001)

Appearance:

Quadrupedal Mode - 12.8 meters
Bipedal Mode - 19.1 meters

Features: Quadrupedal Form - The PT-003 is unique among most HFVs in production (save a smattering of Martian prototypes in lesser stages of development) in that it does not shift into another vehicle, but into a quadrupedal form in the shape of a lion, designed for reconnaissance and easy maneuvering. This allows the PT-003 to serve in multiple capacities when on four legs - the most prevalent of which are a lightweight mobile assault role or its originally intended role as a scout.

Special Comm Systems - Not a remarkable feature, but still one worth mentioning, Judah has a specialized communication system to allow for further encrypted communication with other HFVs from the XC|PT series. In addition to encrypted communication, the system allows for ease in transferring data between units as well as GPS position relaying.

Armaments: 460mm High Velocity Railguns x2: Mounted on hardpoints on Judah's back in quadrupedal configuration. When bipedal, a railgun is positioned over each shoulder.

400mm Rocket Launcher x1: Comes chambered with thirteen rounds, able to be stored on a hardpoint on the suit's back in quadrupedal form. This weapon is mostly used in quadrupedal form, as Judah's hands wield beam sabers and the railguns are mounted upon each shoulder in its bipedal configuration - obviously, making use of an extra rocket launcher difficult.

Beam Sabers x2: Stored in the mouth of the PT-003's cranial unit when in quadrupedal configuration, the lack of holsters on Judah requires both sabers to be wielded by hand when in bipedal configuration.

80mm Auto-Tracking Head Vulcans x2: Oldie but goodie.

Weaknesses: Despite its considerable array of firepower, the PT-003 itself is a relatively light suit designed for quick but heavy strikes and offensive capability. The HFV has little in the way of defensive capability beyond mounting a good offense.

[User]
OSDT Jannah
Hangar

"Shoo. I can do pre-flight myself."

"But-"

"Shoo! Too many cooks. Go get coffee or something. If you really want to help, bring me some coffee while you're at it." Sasha tried to look stern, but at 5'4" and her usual level of enthusiasm the effect was lost pretty quickly. She gestured towards the hangar exit with her nose, both hands being occupied with pulling her hair back into a ponytail, and waved a hand in her technician's general direction when one was free. "You already did most of the day's maintenance, I just have to run through the pre-flight checklist. All primary system diagnostics are coming up green, right?"

The technician nodded and sighed, rolling his eyes while he turned and headed towards the exist. "Alright, alright. I'll bring some coffee by. We'll report to the hangar if the HFVs sorty, Rising Star'll need maintenance when she brings the G-Valk back."

"Mmm." Sasha hummed noncommittally, already turning her attention to the task at hand. Best way to avoid saying anything odd, too. It was still weird to act like Rising Star was another person. Made perfect sense why she needed to, but it was still a little odd. Taking the extra step to make sure anything to do with piloting the XC|PT-01 was put not in terms of Sasha Mackenzie, but Rising Star. "She needs", not "I need". At least she didn't have to maintain the act constantly, that'd drive her crazy. Just needed to do it while she was in the cockpit. What was a pain, though, was having to wear the pilot suit underneath her outer layer.

The colonist was eternally grateful ships like the Jannah naturally tended to be much cooler. Otherwise the suit underneath her bulky pants and zipped jacket would roast her alive. At least she didn't need to keep the helmet on her, that was in the cockpit with Rising Star's mask. She was getting sidetracked, though. Sasha crossed through the hangar's open space, giving a quick wave to the two pilots already in the hangar as she went by.

The XC|PT-01, G-Valkyrie as she much preferred to call it, wasn't too far from the entrance. Only took a few seconds to reach, and (to Sasha's delight) kept her close enough to all the other pilots to chat. If they felt like it. She was just a technician to them, so she didn't really get to talk shop with the people outside Paper Tiger. The G-Valk really didn't need much work; Sasha's fingers flew across the console's keys, running the HFV through its pre-flight diagnostics, but there wasn't anything to find. It was just procedure. Munitions were loaded. Reactor was operating within optimal levels. Computer systems functional, transformable frame checked out, et cetera, et cetera. It only took a couple of minutes to run almost all of the checks, only waiting on the ones still running.

Soooo her eyes wandered. She was in a hangar full of giant robots, how could they not? She knew all about the XC|PTs, the thrill of looking through their specs wore off ages ago, but the rest... There were two different Omnienvironmental Series HFVs on board! A Type 2 and a Type 7. The Type 2 was nothing special to look at, it was the program's backbone for a while, but it was fascinating how compatible it was with newer tech. The Rook's consistence was beautiful in its simplicity. And the Type 7! So much faster than most HFVs that big. Sasha would've loved to see how fast it was compared to the G-Valk. Either one would've been fantastic to tinker with, especially after the series was shut down. There was even a Senta.A Senta! One of the earliest Russian HFVs! Her father would've loved to take a look at it, and Sasha was no different. She'd never even gotten to see a Senta in person. Its design was nothing like what X Corp put out, which was why it was so fascinating.

Lucky Jannah techs. Getting to work on all the different types.

Sure, some of them probably wished they were allowed to work on the four XC|PTs on board, but Sasha had spent her waking hours around those for ages. The different stuff was where it got interesting.

...

Hopefully no one objected to her staring at the other HFVs. That'd be kinda awkward.

[Assistant]
Henry was already inside the HFV Yukine, doing some last-minute diagnostics. Briefly, he gazed at the Valkyrie; it was a majestic sight, what with its reds, blues, and yellows, and he didn't know if he can beat Rising Star in a fair fight. He was tempted for a split-second to wave, but decided not to; he was not going to gain the 'rapport' needed to get the OSDT Jannah's captain to set up an observation post in this region of space if he acted unprofessional. Oh, did he forget to mention? It was this region which his parents insisted be the site of an observation post to look for more Alien signals.

Either way, he was hyped, but not so hyped that he would break protocol just to squee or otherwise communicate how he was hyped...


[System]
Species: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 34

Nationality: Outreman, previously citizen of Angjusk

Occupation: Deputy head of department - Cradle Research & Development

Cybernetics:
* Cradle quick-access implant - Allows access to and from the Cradle environment without additional hardware. This advanced module also reduces fatigue caused by the process, allowing power users multiple entries in a single day.
* Tier 7c 'Cradle Builder' suite - Grants access to the programs created specifically for 'terraforming' the Cradle. Tier 7 out of 20 allows Freyr to auto-build a variety of specialised equipment and propose-build mid level structures.
* Ilyes Brand communication and productivity module - Standard implant for access to Outremer's communications network. Also integrates with many well known productivity tools like a personal assistant, as well as more bespoke scientific tools.

Backstory:
Freyr was born on Angjusk, an older colony than Outremer that was renowned for its military materiel, particularly star ships.

Her mother was an innovations tsar assigned by the government to a consortium of the planet's largest ship manufacturers. During most of Freyr's childhood, her mother's sole task was making sure Angjusk battle fleets were the best money could buy in the Diaspora.

Before she was born, her father owned and operated a series of protein farms across Angjusk. After a chance encounter at a lobby meeting, he was headhunted to co-ordinate the military industrial complex's entire food supply chain. He also met his future wife, as it was Freyr's mother who had recommended him for the job on that fateful day in the lobby.

Freyr was born five years later. Her early life was a whirlwind of schooling, snatches of intimacy with her parents (when they weren't busy) and extended periods with friends. She discovered a natural capacity for learning and excelled in her studies. So much so that she received offers from universities across the Diaspora to come and develop with them.

Her mother and father both pressured her to consider diplomas like Interplanetary Relations or Agrarian Policy. However Freyr was not interested in pursuing a career in politics. Angjusk has been involved in at least a dozen small conflicts since Freyr had been born. She had seen how politicians would destroy entire cultures for the sake of influence, and wanted none of it.

In her first act of defiance, Freyr accepted a position at a school in Babylon, the main city of a far away frontier colony called Outremer. Driven more by the desire to have time away from her planet than by the subjects on offer, she researched what Outremer was known for. It was here that she first discovered the object powering this section of the Diaspora - the Cradle.

She quickly became obsessed with its untapped potential and seemingly unknowable past. She decided to pursue Xenobiology and Machine Intelligence as her subjects of interest, voraciously consuming the knowledge gathered so far on the Cradle.

It was here at the university that she met her future partner, David, who was studying art history. Isolated from her family and friends, alone on a strange planet, Freyr was glad of his unassuming company and kindness. They grew very close over the course of their degrees, and moved in together after graduation. Their daughter Amy was born a few years later.

After Uni, Freyr was picked up by an Outremer administration outreach team and placed in a government career fast lane. Her obsession with the Cradle made her an obvious choice for the Cradle Research & Development department. Once there, she quickly proved herself capable. Several breakthroughs in her first five years meant she was allowed to hand select a team of dynamic young individuals to help pursue her work. A couple more catapulted her into a deputy head of department role, to the ire of some of it's older and more entrenched members.

It was on her 34th birthday that the Cradle abducted her family. It had been acting strangely for weeks prior, rolling back years of terraforming. Freyr had been working round the clock to figure out why, practically living at her field office by the Border. David had bought sweet treats and had Amy with her.

What can only be described as creatures emerged from beyond the Border and overran the camp. A panic spread through the mostly unarmed workers, leading many to flee for their lives. Freyr's last memory of her family was being propelled across the camp by one of the creatures. She could only watch from her position immobile on the floor as they carried off her husband and little girl.

Security forces conducted a sweep of the immediate area beyond the Border, but found no sign of them. So Freyr began looking by herself as soon as her broken bones were reconstructed. Months went by. Her work stopped and her mental health deteriorated. Eventually she was placed on sick leave and her access revoked, after she attempted to use her influence to organise an armed excursion deep into the uncontrolled zone.

[User]
Ambassador Taranik, Counselor Joll, and Vreta were all unfazed by the Director General's accusations, owing to their experience. Only the attaché, Mras, showed any discernible reaction, though he was not privy to the full truth as the other Rothians were. The Ambassador waited patiently for the Human to complete his statement in full, conferring just briefly with her associates beside her before giving their response.

"Director General, it is my understanding that Vreta'Sori gave a full statement that explained his presence in the Cradle to you personally. As such, I would expect that you would have been able to confirm his story with both the Rothian and Human corporations involved. I have already been able to do so, without issue. I would expect that you currently know that he was being truthful regarding his association with the corporation that owned the warehouse in question. If you have any evidence of an ulterior motive for Vreta'Sori's presence in the Cradle during the event, then you may present it. Otherwise, I will have to insist that you make no further attempts to derail this discussion with baseless accusations." The Ambassador replied calmly, but firmly.

Once she got her necessary response to the rather serious accusation of espionage out of the way, Taranik moved on to the more impactful parts of the discussion. "But yes, the reason we are here for this meeting is because we still believe in the idea of cooperation between our people, despite the evidence of an attack against one of our citizens, supported by Agent Five Nine Five. Although I do admit that the likelihood of such cooperation has been compromised by this event, I still do retain hope that we might come to some accord. But before we can make any decisions regarding your agent, I do wish to hear what you have to say about the Cradle. About the reason you have called this meeting today."

Although the Ambassador had given no indication of agreeing to the Director General's demand, there was at least a slight concession buried in her response. Despite announcing her belief in the agent's association with the attack, she, rather specifically, did not take further negotiations off of the table. The contradiction was enough to demonstrate that she was willing to work with him on an agreement, but the Rothians knew that Outremer did not have nearly a strong enough position to make them give in to such demands right away.

[Assistant]
The Director-General chuckled as the Ambassador defended her charge, rubbing his clearly shaven chin on a knuckle. "Sure thing." He winked an augmented eye at Vreta. "I'm sure your man has updated you on what happened last night, so I won't go into all the details. But I sent a team back to the compound after those things had cleared out. They discovered the creature Vreta was chatting with had been using a Rothian testing backdoor to manipulate a long-range comms array here on Babylon. It was trying to ping something using a very precise set of coordinates. And do you know where those coordinates led us?" The Director-General took another sip of water.

This was the part that truly excited Freyr. She simply had to find out what the creatures from the Cradle wanted so much. She jumped in almost without realising it. "Somewhere on Rothia."

"Exactly right, Dr Lang!" The Director-General grinned, clapping his hands loudly together and slapping them back down onto the table. "Somewhere on Rothia. And I'm willing to bet my ridiculous government paycheck that you can't detect it on your own. Otherwise, you would've found it already. So, I am proposing a joint expedition to Rothia, to figure out whatever that creature was trying to communicate with. With the galaxy's most informed Cradle experts…" The Director motioned to Freyr and her deputies stood behind her "at the helm, i'm certain we'll be able to track it down. In exchange for your full support on this expedition, and dropping all charges against Five Nine Five, we will share the knowledge of whatever we find with you. You can't say fairer than that."

[User]
Moreso than anything said so far, the claim that the creature had attempted to make contact with a location on Rothia caused a stir among the Rothian delegation. There were quick looks between one another, as well as frantic conversation in their minds between their implants. "The creature attempted to make contact with something on Rothia? Did you see anything that would confirm that, Vreta?" The Ambassador asked.

"No, not directly at least." Vreta answered. "There was no way for me to examine the comms device before the creature turned hostile. I can say that it did seem to be familiar with me as a Rothian, but its words were vague. One interpretation of those words would imply that the creature, or its creators, was aware of our people early in our evolution."

The Ambassador gave a glance towards their technical advisor. "Mras, is what the Humans say even possible? Could a Cradle program even send a message outside the simulation?"

Mras did not appear entirely confident, but he answered nonetheless. "I would have to study the Cradle directly to give a definitive answer, but conceptually, there would be nothing preventing it. Everything we know about the Cradle suggests that, for all its mystery, it is simply a highly-advanced and ancient computer. A computer that has been linked with almost every aspect of Outremer's infrastructure. I do not know what limits the simulation imposes, but an artificial intelligence within could attempt to access those connections."

"There is always the chance that this is a fabrication, but…to what end?" Counselor Joll commented. "The patterns of Human behavior regarding the Cradle have been remarkably consistent for as long as we have known them. They want to keep it to themselves. They do not even share it freely with other Human colonies. This revelation, if true, would mean that they will need to go to Rothia to find their answers. They would have no choice but to cooperate with us, which, of course, gives us a great deal of leverage in the negotiations. I simply can think of no motivation for them to lie about this."

Once she heard the others' opinions, the Ambassador wasted no more time. "If what you say is true, this could be a remarkable development, Director-General. You will have to forgive some skepticism, as our planet has been mapped in extensive detail, but there is enough uncertainty that I can entertain the idea there may be something to it. I can say that we are interested in the cooperative study of the Cradle, but it must be a full partnership. If there is indeed something connected to the Cradle on our homeworld, we must be able to study both what is found on Rothia, and the Cradle here on Outremer. With you being afforded the same courtesy, naturally."

[Assistant]
"Hmm. No, no that won't do at all." The Director-General smiled. The blue points of light in his eyes all cycled one position anti-clockwise. "Some of my counterparts might ask for access to your antimatter infrastructure, or something like that, in return. But I know you won't entertain that possibility, because your technology means to you what the Cradle means to me. I was negotiating with an open mind, but it seems you aren't ready to be serious with us. For that reason, this meeting is over. Come on, everyone." The Director-General stood up, expertly scooping his jacket off the back of his chair and putting it back on.

The Under-Secretary, who had sat slightly open-mouthed as the Director-General played a weak hand with magnetic energy, decided to throw his weight behind the maneuver. As he stood up with the rest of the human delegation, he addressed the Ambassador directly. "Thank you for your time, Ambassador Taranik. Would you please inform the Zuraxi'Synkuur corporation to expect a full audit of its operations, in line with the Outremer Espionage Act, and to update its clients? We'll need to ask all employees and consultants to provide a complete previous employment history. If you have any questions, please just let my office know."

Freyr got up hesitantly from her chair. "What is happening?" She sent to Masgard. "I'll explain later." He sent back, putting his jacket back on. He came over, smiling encouragingly, and put a hand on her back to softly guide her toward the door along with Dr Uchida and Dr Kamau.


[System]
Death Korp Trooper Number:
Trooper 17431

Appearance:

Height:
5'6"

Age:
27

Sex:
Male

Class:
Death Korp Grenadier

Equipment:
- Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy) -
Also known as a Hellgun or, more rarely, a Hotshot lasgun, the Type XIV (Heavy) is the standard issue weapon for all Grenadiers serving in Death Korp regiments. They are, at least by the Grenadiers themselves, intensely disliked due to perceived unreliability in the field during extended operations and a Krieger's general preference for the default Type XIV Lasgun (More commonly known outside of Krieg as the Lucian Pattern Lasgun). However, with the proper maintence that each Grenadier performs routinely, the weapon performs its intended role as a high power Lasgun, capable of punching through heavier armor and providing, on full auto, a withering rate of fire. The Type XIV (Heavy) utilizes a backpack unit to power it, and a Quick Recharge Generator included in the backpack unit is generally overtaxed, due to the design of the weapon and its power output. Ansgar, like many Grenadiers, would have preferred a Type XIV Lasgun over the Heavy variant, but as a Grenadier, he is required to carry it.

- Grenadier Carapace Armor -
Intended for deployment where the fighting is fiercest, Death Korps Grenadiers are equipped with heavy Carapace Armour that has been integrated into the standard Krieg kit. This comprises the Mark IX helmet, a rebreather facemask, three-piece shoulder guards, a chest plate with additional abdomen plates and shin and knee guards. All are made of Plasteel and reinforced with a layer of Ceramite for additional strength, heat resistance and weight reduction. The armor, coupled with uniform and Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy) makes a very heavy loadout, adding in the miscellaneous equipment they carry as well, however, the protection is vastly appreciated by the Grenadiers in general, due to their role as the leading edge in storming trenches and hostile emplacements, needing the protection to get close enough to do their jobs, not so much concerned with survival.

- Explosives -
As his former squads Demolitions expert, Ansgar carried the standard explosives load out alongside extra tools, for when the Engineers could not keep up with the assault but were preoccupied elsewhere. Besides several Frag and Krak grenades, Ansgar also has several demolition charges, rated for taking out hardened bunkers when put in place. Ansgar modified the charges so that, in a hurry, he can pull a detonation cable and heave the charge at a target, the normally delicate and precise procedure for arming the charges ditched in favor of emergency target removal. And, as a Krieg Engineer before he was assigned as a Grenadier, he has learned to build improvised explosives that served him well in the trenches when supplies on conventional explosives were running short, as well as utilize Chemical weapons safely.

- Melee Gear -
Ansgar carries two weapons for melee combat, one obligatory and the other actually used. The obligatory is his bayonet, which the Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy) lacks a mount for, another reason it remains unpopular among Grenadiers, and typically serves as much as a tool and last resort weapon than anything else. His actual go to is a Entrenching Tool, edges sharpened to allow him to carve through hostiles as well as bludgeon them, and retain the intended purpose of digging trenches and other necessary fighting positions.

Notable Deeds:
- Tyranid Assault on Thresis IV -
Raised from birth to be a Death Korp Engineer, Ansgar Staudinger, or known by his Trooper designation 17431, will never state when he was sent to war, something that tends to bother people who ask that are outsiders to Krieg and their necessary methods of providing the Imperium the soldiers it needs. Assigned fresh to an Engineering Platoon, Ansgar would spend a great deal of time digging trenches and laying mines in the defense of a Shrine World, Thresis IV, directly in the path of a Tyranid Hive Fleet Splinter. The Tyranids, despite being vastly reduced in numbers compared to a true Hive Fleet, descended like mad locusts, slaughtering over 90% of the Death Korp forces deployed on the planet. Of that 10%, Ansgar Staudinger was one of the survivors, the only from his platoon, found near death after turning an entire trench line into a raging biochemical inferno, equal parts fire and chemical weapon that was effective on the Tyranids. Sharing the compound make up with other Death Korp Engineers, the biochemical fire was used to great extent to halt and drive back the Tyranids, making the then rookie Staudinger's trial by fire a literal, and resounding, success.

- Nightmares Beneath Thrasis II -
As part of the Thrasis campaign his regiment was assigned to, and the arrival of Tyranid complicating greatly, Ansgar Staudinger was deployed with a fresh Engineering platoon to assist in the breaking of a siege on Chaos held factories on the system's forge world, Thrasis II. Utilizing conventional tunneling and, when they detected they were almost at the entry point, Hades Breaching Drill, to punch into the Chaos held Foundry, Ansgar and his fellow Guardsmen stumbled into something straight out of the most feverish of a heretic's nightmares. The Warp had bled over into the belly of the foundry, with daemons and mutants in equal measures assaulting the woefully unprepared Krieg Guardsmen. However, they had a job to do, and they were able to hold their ground, keeping a secure tunnel long enough for support to arrive and push deep enough into the Chaos corrupted foundry, to the dark heart and plant enough explosives for the resulting explosion spotted from orbit. Whether it was the sheer amount of explosives put in place, or partially due to Chaos corruption was never decided. However, as one of the only survivors again by virtue of Luck or being Blessed, Ansgar was reassigned by a surviving Commissar to the Death Korp Grenadiers.

- Hellscape of Thrasis I -
Nearing the end of the Thrasis System Campaign, Ansgar found himself a freshly minted Grenadier, no longer an Engineer although he often worked closely with them during breaching actions against enemy defensive lines. However, upon touching down on Thrasis I, the Kriegers found something unlike anything anyone could be prepared for. The Foundry was merely a foretaste of what was to come, as planet spanning rituals had allowed the Warp to taint and corrupt great stretches of the planet, forcing Guard forces to struggle through conventional defenses one day, and make a mad dash through Daemon infested hellscapes that should not be the next. What Ansgar refuses to mention to a soul, due to an oath he was put under at the end of the conflict, was the arrival of Grey Knights, of the Emperor's most holy Ordos Malleus. Alongside Adeptus Sororitas support, which Ansgar learned to have a deep, healthy respect for, the combined arms forces stormed the capital of Thrasis I, a den of pure evil and corruption that made the rest of the planet look like a Shrine World in comparison. Once again, whether by luck or the Emperor's own intervention, Ansgar found himself as one of the only Grenadiers, and Krieger's period, to survive the assaults into the city, arriving at the Hall of Governing as it had been christened during Thrasis I's founding as a colony, only to find horrors so unspeakable even the Krieg born Grenadier refuses to speak of them now. But, between the Grey Knights and Sisters of Battle alongside his own humble contributions at that point, which mostly consisted of survival, Ansgar lived to see the end of the hellish campaign on Thrasis I. With literally no regiment to return to, and having become aware of the most secretive of Space Marine chapters, it was decided to induct him into the Inquisition, sending him to serve where needed most.

[User]
Behind her mask, Adrianne's eyes narrowed to slits as she glared up(or rather; at; even from a sitting position) the impertinent Psyker, Maria!

Her already sour mood became even acidic - a change in temperament the other occupants in the shuttle might even feel as the air around Adrianne suddenly grew thick and heavy, an almost invisible static charge present in the room that threatened to explode at any moment!

"Ohhh, do not worry, my little midget. I am quite fine, thank you." Adrianne replied with a toxic tone, cocking her head a little bit to the side as she glanced back at her.
"I understand I am blessed with a natural padding to soften my fall. At least more so than you."

She commented, and proceeded to make no attempt to hide how she was staring directly at Maria's chest hidden beneath her ragged coat. After a moment of pause, Adrianne would let out a slight chuckle, staring back up at Maria.

"Unfortunately, if you are looking for alms, I am afraid I do not have any." She commented with a wicked grin behind her mask as she motioned towards Maria's ragged looking coat and hat.
"Maybe you should go to the Ecclesiarchy and ask for some there. I am sure they can give you something better than... whatever it is that you are wearing."

...

" ... tramp."

[Assistant]
"Psyker Adrianne and Maria, was I not clear enough when I ordered the two of you to cease all of this idiotic and childlike drama? The two of you will drop this drama immediately and keep it out of my sight or you will both experience what happens to those heretics who are caught by the Inquisition, firsthand. Your poor choices and actions not only reflect poorly upon myself but also the rest of the squad, I will not stand by idly while my reputation or those that give a damn about the Imperium are dragged down into the warp. My words, are they clear enough this time around? Or should I have my forces upon Sovereign prepare for your arrival?" Inquisitor Icarus had reached the end of her patients and understanding, the only thing those foolish trouble makers would find now would be a merciless Inquisitor willing to show her cruelty upfront.

During the whole time Inquisitor Icarus gave her lecture and warning, Celestian Andromedai listened closely with a smirk spread across her face, hidden under her airsealed helmet. Once Icarus had stopped, Andromedai hoped that her warning had actually gotten through this time to the Psykers, but something told her that it hadent. "I will do whatever is asked of me in the name of the Emperor, but their presence is still greatly needed in the squad. Sending them to my troops could have serious backlash if anyone higher up would find out." thought Andromedai to herself, she was going to have to have a word with Icarus later. For now though, the Celestian merely watched as the lander broke the planet's atmosphere and quickly made it's way into the massive city.

From above, it was clear that the command world of Sovereign was very unique when compared to other colonized planets in the Imperium. In fact, the world was one of a kind and many resources had been poured into it for a large number of logically sound reasons. "The city is a little bit to clean and wealthy looking for my personal taste." said Andromedai as the shuttle quickly navigated its way towards the far edge of the city where the Inqusitors personal safe house was waiting for them. As soon as the lander touched down upon the landing pad outside, Inquisitor Icarus made sure she was the first one off the shuttle, eyeing her squad closely with fierce judgement. "This is our base of command in the system for the time being, pick an empty room of your choice, unpack your gear and equipment, then meet me in the living room for further orders."


[System]
Age: 19
Year: 1st
Gender: Female
Species: Faerie [Dullahan]
Physical Description:

In Depth Physical Description:
For all intents and purposes Claire is fairly average in terms of body build. She stands at a modest 5'6'', being neither skeletal nor particularly chubby. Even frequent rides on Thanatos don't give her much muscle considering the unnatural smoothness of his gait. Her hair is a very light brown, nearing a dull orange, and goes down to mid chest in a messy fashion with windswept bangs. There's little more she does to it than running a brush through the strands, at most putting it up in a ponytail or bun. Claire also has a spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and along the skin of her arms, said skin being fairly pale and having only a hint of sun kissing it, due mostly to the fact she'll burn rather than tan. Her eyes are a light grey-blue, though when her head isn't attached they slowly start to lose the color until only her pupils set against the white background remain. Speaking of which, whenever her head isn't attached a dark blue, almost black smoke covers what would otherwise be grotesque openings, and even when attached it's obvious there's something wrong with the skin – since her head never truly is fully connected.
Due to this Claire has a habit of covering her neck, either with scarves or high neck clothing such as turtlenecks. It's rare to see Claire without something patterned in her family's tartan as well – usually a sash across her chest or waist.

Personality: Perhaps it's the never wavering grin on her face, or her tomboyish looks and excitable personality, but Claire has always been known as a goofball. The former isn't an exaggeration either – as a dullahan Claire can literally never stop grinning, and finds the range of emotions others can show with their face fascinating. Due to this she loves watching people, almost in a creepy fashion, even while talking a mile a minute. In truth she loves other people in a sort of detached way, often describing others as 'amusing'. Even when she grows close to them it's almost as though she views them as a pet - which to Claire doesn't sound that bad; Thanatos is a pet and he's her best friend! Though no matter what she doesn't enjoy saying others' names and will often refer to those she knows by nicknames, the only exception being Thanatos.

Hobbies: Origami [mostly when she's bored and has nothing to do with her hands], Ice Skating, People Watching, and Botany [Claire mostly grows cacti – she has a secret stash of flowers but Thanatos keeps eating them if they're left out].

Familiar: Thanatos, a great black shire horse.

Extra: When roaming places Thanatos can't be – such as school halls or her dorm – Claire has mastered using her magic to turn the great undead beast into a tiny stuffed horse. Smells faintly of human.

[User]
Lyla Warren

"I'll be fine, jus' a little in over my head," Lyla said, beaming up in the general direction of the Lycan as Niall went to clean up the mess she had made. "Thank you for your con... cont... consh... Ah... thanks for caring, though." Despite her insistence, she couldn't help the mild slur that had crept into her speech, or the fact that her head still hurt and she was still sitting back against the counter. Lyla didn't look like she wanted to get up or go anywhere any time soon.

"Niall is right though. I wasn't really made. I have biological parents like every human in the world. Only, parts of my DNA were switched with that of a bat. Dr. Higgins didn't create me, but he did change who I ultimately became." While it was pretty much only the most basic explanation she could offer, Lyla didn't really feel up to going into more detail just then. Once her head cleared a bit, she would be able to give Felix more information as to what exactly was changed and maybe even how it was done. There was a lot about the latter she didn't understand, but after living with Geoff for most of her life she had a decent grasp on the basics.

"Um... would someone mind getting me some water? I need something to drink but I don't think more alcohol is a good idea at this point..." she said, not addressing either of her conversational partners in particular. Hopefully the water, and a few minutes spent sitting on the floor, would help her to recover.

---

Morgan Selwyn

Morgan smiled as Kiara took the ice lotus from him, genuinely glad that she liked it despite the fact that he could feel the beginnings of a blush forming due to her compliments. It was her mention of the Winter Court that brought his attention back around and made him think for a moment. He had to remember that she was as dangerous as she was gorgeous, and that things could go badly if he didn't keep his wits about him when she was around. As much as he liked her, he wasn't prepared to get stuck in the Fae Realms or end up dead over a crush or lustful tryst. All of that, however, went out the window as soon as her lips touched his.

At first, he was so surprised that he was stunned to the point of immobility. As realization sunk in his cheeks started to burn as blood colored his face and neck. But by the time Kiara brought her other hand up to draw him closer, Morgan was already lost in the moment. She tasted of the whiskey, which he decided wasn't so bad after all. Her proximity inspired a number of passionate desires, which he only really managed to resist due to his reserved nature. Though he longed to pull her against him, he settled for the simpler notion of resting his right hand just above her left hip and leaning closer to her.

When Kiara finally pulled away, Morgan was both disappointed and relieved. The source of his disappointment was obvious, but he was also glad to be able to breathe relatively freely. His breathing was ragged as he regarded the Faerie, and it felt like the whole of his body was burning up. He smiled again, somewhat crookedly, and looked down toward the flower with the hope that it might be easier to calm down if he wasn't staring into Kiara's eyes.

"I'm glad you like it," he mentioned, leaving out that he was glad the flower hadn't simply shattered when he tried to turn it into a prism as it had many times in the past. "You did ask, after all, and I'd hate to disappoint. It should last for a while on its own, but you'll want to get it someplace cold if you want to keep it. Though I suppose it wouldn't be that big of a deal for me to make you another," he mentioned, paying no heed to the minor lie. He could surely repeat the feat of magic, but it was mostly luck that had allowed him to complete it as it was. While he searched for something more to say, Morgan kept getting distracted by the fact that Kiara's fingers were still tangled in his hair and that they were still so close to one another.

"You make it really hard to think straight sometimes, you know?" he admitted, not really considering his words as he turned his gaze back to Kiara's eyes. Her whole being was captivating, but her expressive, color-shifting eyes seemed to draw Morgan the most.

[Assistant]
Morgan's hand remained just above her left hip, still warm from the passionate heat of their kiss. He was reserved, a gentleman even, his thumb only slightly brushing the exposed skin from her barely-there faerie outfit. Kiara hoped he didn't move it, not unless he was doing so to touch her somewhere else. At the moment, that seemed unlikely as his breathing was ragged and his whole face had turned just about the same color as those "strawberries" she never got to try earlier.

"I'm glad you like it," Morgan broke the post-kiss silence and explained what to do if she wished to keep the sculpture longer. Kiki just kept quiet, a rarity for the vivacious faerie, and studied his features. He was quite handsome with a strong chin and dark, mysterious eyes - eyes that kept nervously glancing at her right arm. "You make it really hard to think straight sometimes, you know?" he admitted before looking back into her eyes.

Kiara offered a gentle, feminine smile but the shift from pink to red in her eyes would betray her true intent. "Well, I like to make it hard." she bit her lip after making the double entendre. It was quite obvious that she wanted more than just that stolen kiss, but it was his turn to play in this game of cat and mouse.  "And there is really nothing to think about. I like you, Morgie, and more than just for--" she caught her whiskey-loosened tongue before it said too much. It would have been an honest slip, faeries can't tell lies after all, as she really did want him as more than just her next meal ticket… but, perhaps admitting how she sustained herself this early on would be a bit too forward, even for her.

"More than just for your pretty sculptures." she said instead before leaning forward to gently put the flower on the coffee table next to her empty cup. Kiki snuggled back into the couch, content in the warmth that his proximity and the alcohol provided. Her ruby-hued eyes watching him with the hope that he might drop his reservations kiss her again, better yet, ask her back to his room… or hers… or any nearby closed off space.


[System]
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Height: 6'1
Weight: 84 kg.
Build: While he's not a beast he looks as if he could survive one or two tavern brawls. He definitely has some muscle, but not overly so.
Equipment:* The most prominent piece is a large staff that seems to be longer than he is tall by a decent bit. It is made out of very rare and no less expensive, sturdy wood engraved with all kinds of runes and magic symbols that holds a large, reddish orb at its top. Vadym doesn't need it in order to wield magic in general, but as a channeling device it is definitely helpful and a requirement for some of the stronger rituals.
* His clothes are mainly comprised of dyed wool with some decorative elements stitched on it, but he also has a set of more combat-ready leather armor. He doesn't like to wear it in a civil environment though.
* A riding horse.
* Coin, food and water for several days.

Powers: Vadym has been taught a broad array of spells for daily use both in and out of combat, but out of this array there is nothing that would truly stand out. His true and in-depth profession is one of a more dark and often considered sinister nature. Not necromancy, but disturbingly closely related to it. It is reserved for those cases where some petty fireballs out of his hands don't help.

The nameless
(that is... until he meets someone who gives him a name!)

Gender: Male
Species: Gargoyle (created by human chiseler)
Height: 8'7"
Weight: 524 kg
Build: Moving wall and meteor with wings
Equipment: What kind of equipment ? While his very existence is due to humankind and their weird desire to decorate their sacral buildings with statues in order to deter evil spirits he is pretty much unrelated to them at least so far.
Powers: Brute strength and the ability to fly can make him very dangerous when provoked, but he is not of a malicious nature by himself.

[User]
Vadym had hoped for finding some kind of settlement in order to have several days of rest before continuing a journey that never seemed to end. Port Vale however, after having had some first looks at it, appeared to be on the very borderline of acceptability for the battle mage -- and that was taking into account the fact that the king's men had just left the place already. With that annoying bunch of people around Vadym would probably have tried to find his away around this town.

A tavern was found quickly and without the difficulty of choice -- there simply was just one tavern renting rooms in Port Vale. Vadym made sure he'd have a place to stay for the night, then continued to venture deeper into the arrangement of buildings. At least there seemed to be some more basics available: food stores and a blacksmith very always good to have. Then something stopped him: A small piece of paper lying on the ground. Apparently someone had disposed of it since there was no obvious source to be seen in the area, and it had become so wet and dirty already that 'deciphering' was a more appropriate term then 'reading' when Vadym decided to pick it up.

It was saying something about four adventurers for some kind of quest. They should gather at... that was the part where damage had taken the greatest toll. All Vadym could read was that the place had to be some kind of magic store. Well... shouldn't be too hard to find in Port Vale, should it ? There hardly could be more than one of those around here.

[Assistant]
Gaia slunk out of the shadows, her ears perked up as she listened for any sign of other person around. She looked at the piece of paper again, A magic shop. She thought before she fanned her wings out slightly, her impressive wingspan making a large shadow on the ground. She relaxed before she moved along quickly, her stomach gave a snarl- Finding wherever she needed to go would have to come later, first she had to sate the appetite.

She moved to tilt her chin up to the sky, breathing in slowly and her tail swayed. She followed her nose, literally, to find where food was.

---

Untying himself was going to be a lot harder than escaping the Guards, Blake realized.
He had slipped from the Guards pretty easily, everything he had still intact and everything. He looked at the ropes tying his hands together with a frown.

"Rightio." Blake spoke to himself, "This'll be... Fun." He looked around, he knew that the city of Port Vale was close, which was good, but explaining himself would end up being rather... Difficult.

[User]
Vadym had a not so comfortable time trying to evade the almost ubiquitous amount of dirt that was lying on the streets, rotting and waiting to be dilitued and washed into the sea with the next rain. That dress of him had not been that cheap after all, but never was it in so much danger than in a town like this. The mage almost considered using some kind of spell to alleviate the task, but what would the people around him say ? According to his experience by far not every commoner was open-minded with regard to such things, especially in regions where education was a more rare thing to be seen.

Still Vadym made it, only his shoes had turned into a pile of mud. Carefully and with eyes wide open he knocked against the door, hoping that someone was still there to respond.

---

In the meantime some strange happened near Port Vale's only church... Just like with many other sacred buildings people had not been hesitant to attach weird looking statues to them. Grotesque creatures of fantasy that looked horrifying, but actually were meant to demoralize and scare away evil spirits. Those arts of work were meant to cling to the walls forever, but unknown to most people very few of them didn't. Now the night was coming and one of them separated itself from the high spire it once had been mounted on. A hulking beast that didn't come crashing down since it unfolded giant wings, now gliding through the dark skies with almost disturbing silence. It would try to roam around the streets this night, trying to find out more about its environment.

[Assistant]
The door creaked open as it was pounded on, the shadows of the street being struck by the rays of soft, warm light from inside the store.
A large hanging jar, filled with moving light; potentially fireflies or something magic, hung from either side of the door.

The store was stocked with shelves against the walls, the floor space in the middle of the store was bare, covered by a large navy blue rug.
A large counter sat near the end of the room, a pair of doors seeming to lead off to other places. Behind the counter was a large cabinet that hunt open, revealing the shelves inside and on the walls, stocked with different coloured vials or stones.
The air of the Magic store was light and full of warmth. A figure sat behind the counter, their head down as they focused on the book in their lap.

---

Gaia's ears twitched as she heard what sounded like knocking. She had gotten to the Inn, but people looked at her out the windows, and she heard the doorbolts lock in place to keep her from entering.

The dragonwoman let out a low grumble as she moved on, she guessed it was time to find the magic place, she'd go hunting in the morning.
She walked along quietly, knowing she was getting the glances through the windows.

---

Blake flexed his hands quietly, trying to see if he could untie his hands himself. He frowned as he couldn't, flexing his wrists a bit more before he sighed, walking into Port Vale, past the Old Church before he saw the Gargoyle leave his spot.
"Fuck!" He swore, moving to hold his hands up to cover his mouth, he didn't mean to be so loud.

[User]
Vadym dared to clear his throat somewhat artificially in order to get the shop owner's attention. "Erm... excuse me ? I have something for you..." The mage was quite straightforward: He simply put the piece of parchment he had found onto the counter and tapped onto it with his index finger in order to indicate what he was referring to. "Did you write this or is this merely the intended rendezvous point ?"

Silently, but no less scorchingly hot something came to Vadym's mind: What if this was just a fake ? Some more or less bad joke intended to annoy the shop owner by luring random people to his place in large numbers. Or maybe even an attempt of sabotage ? Vadym now expected pretty much anything between 'I don't know anything.' to a full scale rant and tried to prepare himself mentally. At the same time he, of course, tried to get a good view at the shop owner. If he was the author if this parchment indeed Vadym wanted to know who was about to hire him... not every contractor was trustworthy after all...

---

The enormous shadow that had separated itself from Port Vale's church now was almost invisible against the already dark sky. Despite its size it hardly made any noise as it tried to glide as much as possible instead of flapping its wings, also it flew at high altitude. It would take until later in the night for the creature to come down and wander. Too many people were still roaming around on the streets that could spot it and become afraid or, even worse, call to arms.

[Assistant]
Ash looked up at Vadym as he spoke, his silver eyes trained on him carefully.
"It is both." He stayed seated behind the counter. "I am waiting for at least 2, maybe 3 more to arrive as well." He motioned his hand to the note, the edges rippling with magical energy. "I got them to find the best travellers they could find."

Footsteps echoed from the outside, Ash's eyes moved to the door before his eyes narrowed.
Gaia paused at the door, her tail swaying before she moved to push it open. She pushed her head through the door quietly, locking eyes with Ash and glanced to Vadym.
"Ah. I see I am not the first." She said as she slipped into the magic shop.

---

Blake watched the shadow disappear and shuddered, moving into the little town a bit faster.
"I need to get these off somehow.." He said as he entered the town properly. He looked around to try and find somewhere that was open or that would help.

[User]
"Well, I'd not be so sure if spreading a simple piece of parchment on the street would only attract the best ones, but personally I've come here with the very serious intent if picking up that job you're offering. I'll try to do my best." Vadym spoke slowly, but seriously. He was partially busy thinking already and that was quite obvious, but still he didn't break his visual focus onto Ash.

Then Ash entered, causing Vadym to turn on his heels and starting to inspect her briefly.
"Hm. It seems now we're already two. So one or two more and we're ready to go, right ?"
Vadym approached Ash and stretched out his large hand, smiling gently.
"Sorry. I probably should have introduced myself first to you: I'm Vadym, mage. And you ? I'm curious..."

---

While circling in the air and waiting for the last rays of light to disappear, the gargoyle had no true path to follow. He wasn't aware of any Blake and that this certain guy was getting the impression of being pursued by the enormous flying creature, he just was waiting. However and probably to both their fortunes light was fading away rapidly now and the gargoyle started to reduce his altitude gently. When the last light was gone he landed on an open and empty path a few dozen yards away from the village, his eyes being able to penetrate the night. Now he'd need to take care of the candlelight coming out of more and more windows, but this was a rather minor issue. Also he'd have to be careful about his incredible weight causing thudding steps in the mud...

He did not expect anyone to roam the streets currently, at least he had not spotted blake. So as the gargoyle entered the village carefully an unexpected encounter could very well occur.

[Assistant]
Ash smiled at Vadym's first words, moving to speak before Gaia entered. He inspected the Dragonwoman before he turned back to Vadym.
"They are not simple letters master mage." He said with a small, slightly cheeky, smile. "I am Ashton Gias, please just call me Ash." He continued before his eyes rested back on the beastwoman.

Gaia stayed back and listened, her ears drooped and eyes narrowed in the light around them. She tucked her wings further into her body in order to stop herself from slamming her wings into things.
"As you may sense, Master Mage." Ash said, returning his eyes onto Vadym, "I am also a magic user; although not in the way you are. I am a Mystic, in fact, the last mystic."

---

Blake saw the beast disappear, part of him relaxed, while the other part just worried that he was the beasts next prey.
He moved into the village, looking around quickly but noticed all doors and windows were closed.
"Musta been the beast..." He uttered out loud with a frown, "Now how am I going to get these cuffs off."


[System]
Race: Human

Age: Twenty-Seven.

Gender: Male.

Appearance: Joseph has a face of triangular structure, with softer features and a fair complexion. His hair is likely his most defining feature, golden in color and bizarrely well-kept for a sailor. While still tousled in places, his hair sits well in a middle-split. At the back of his hair and scarcely dotted around longer parts, it's easy to notice a few beads tied into improvised braids in his hair. Lastly His eyes are an unremarkable, dark blue.

At 5 feet, ten inches in height, Joseph isn't really of a remarkable height, and at 160 pounds, he isn't particularly heavy, either. Naturally slender, though bearing some build from his short life as a sailor, Joseph has the build of a gymnast or an athlete. He's not suited for much heavy lifting, but is an adept climber and runner. He bears no scars or tattoos, proof of a short sailing career. (Cutsey chibi Joey art)

Clothing/Armor: Tawdry and perhaps a little showey, Joey either enjoys loose clothing, or is as brazen as he comes off. He sports a white, ruffled shirt with a neck that starts just below his chest, over which he dons a blue, low-fastened vest. He bears a flashy, but undoubtedly cheap necklace, and decorates his fingers equally well, with two rings for each hand. These are less often seen, however, as he usually wears a pair of fingerless leather gloves. Brown, cuffed boots cover his feet and a pair of unremarkable tan breeches cover his legs entirely. Around his waist he secures a sash with a buckled, offset leather belt and sheath.

Weapons: Joseph only carries a single weapon. A plain, light sabre sword. The blade is a dull steel though has a decent enough edge. It's a notably light weapon, with a long, thin, curved blade. It looks like it could cut well, but the dings and dents along the blade imply it's seen more use defensively. Joseph always wears this in the sheath at his hip.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.

Skills/Abilities:
Fleeting Swordsman: Though "Swordsman" is a generous way to put it. Joseph carries the blade but only has a handful of fights worth of experience. He tends to focus on defense, ever-concerned with his own safety.
Charisma: Joseph generally knows his way around people. He knows when to sweet-talk and he knows when to tell a good lie. Be it for his survival or simply to swindle a free drink or a handful of coin.
Deft Hands: Less a thief and more a conman or a swindler, Joseph is generally good with his hands. He can pick basic locks with the tools he keeps on hand in his vest, and can usually improvise slight-of-hands.

Magic: N/A

Backstory: Born far from the Isle to Harlous and Malle Mercer, Joseph always proved to be a foul and disobedient child from a young age. What was thought to just be a poor phase soon turned into a years-long struggled. Even as his brother, Alex, was born when Joseph was six, Joseph remained insubordinate and bratty. It was a normal enough childhood for two boys born to a lesser family, but Joseph's frequent bouts of disobedience lead to frequent disciplinings. This only spurred on his embitterment for his parents as he grew into a teenager.

As Joseph grew more and more able to venture out on his own, he spent less time by the day at home. The boy sought out company and cheap thrills at any street corner or dock. As years passed, time away from home grew, and Joseph began to experiment with ways to mooch what coin he could. More coin meant he could stay out longer. That first time he begged a meal off a tavern-going woman wasn't something he'd care to tell stories of, but it was the first budding attempt of what would be a lifelong chain of swindles. It was a thrill, and it payed. The boy was hooked.

As adulthood threatened to near at around age seventeen, Joseph's mind began to wander for lands unknown. The excitement from his home had long since ebbed. But to walk to the next town over on swindled coin? The man knew better. Necessity brought about a thought on an otherwise regular passing of the docks. Sailing, he thought. Pay for work, and an opportunity to travel as far as the seas went. The man always lusted for more. Gold, people, places. Soon, every ship that sailed into port found Joseph there to greet and nag for a position.

First attempts were, as always, not terribly successful. The man was barely eighteen. He lacked much build, a weapon, and a large among of sailing knowledge. It was only when that It was only when that fateful schooner docked into port that Joseph got his "Lucky" opportunity. Ratty and manned with only a skeleton crew, the ship's captain was notably desperate. Desperate enough to recruit Joseph, much to a soured feeling of accomplishment for the boy.

Years passed, at twenty, after a painfully long and turmoil-ridden shift on the unnamed, half-rotten schooner, an opportunity was presented. After a dealing with a second privateer ship, Joseph, along with the rest of the crew, were offered a place on the second ship. Larger and finer, though still barely manned, Joseph and a few others heartily agreed. It didn't occur to the man why such a ship was so poorly manned. Though it did not take long for that to become clear.

The first battle was hard, the second harder. Joseph hadn't seen a ship take cannon fire before. The ship before would surely sink from a single hit. But this ship? This ship was something hardier. War-bred, but with a crew that betrayed that image entirely. The Dread Corsair, she was called, and her crew was one of thugs and cutthroats. Coin kept Joseph's unease with the position silent for years to come.

At twenty-two, and after a particularly harsh defeat, the Dread Corsair only barely limped into bay at Waeldeshore. When a ship repairman was hired, the crew was ordered to scatter to the town to wait out the repairs. It was only after the first night in a tavern that Joseph met Piper Pim , the daughter to the hired boat builder. Their meeting was, like all of Joseph's, initially a little overwhelming. Though after his usual bout of flattery, the two began to connect more personally. A friendly chat turned into an enthused exchange, which turned into a jovial drunken bout at the Ugly Mug. Drunken escapades turned out to be the downfall of his career. Night after night they continued, even as words of an escalating war reached the pair's ears. The two were too young to worry about that, even as the reports grew worse. It was after a particularly hard night that Joseph rose from a drink-induced sleep and headed for the docks as he always did... Or always tried to. It had been a few days. The man only discovered an empty dock, and with a panicked flurry of questions to the nearest dock worker, found that the ship and its crew had fled the war-torn land. Luck, it seemed, had cursed him.

The next five years of Joseph's life were taken to with some difficulty. Gone was his sailing career, the man was reduced to tricks and odd jobs once more, and as the Silver Lilly Isle grew more and more war-torn, the chance of leaving grew slim. Thankfully, the man had a companion for most of his hardship. Piper, as it turned out, had a set of equally sticky fingers, and the two flourished as much as on-and-off thieves could over the years. Joseph even had enough to rent a room at the tavern for most nights.

Now, Joseph is twenty-seven. Waeldeshore proved an odd town to adapt to, but through old tricks and the help from a now close friend, the man carved out something of a living in the place. He had no home of his own, sure, but he had his life and his freedom still. At least, that's what he used to reassure himself.

[User]
Of Witch Hunters and Merchants

---

Edict sits on a well used stool, sipping a pint of ale whilst listening to the blabber of the Ugly Mug. He leans his head back, takes a huge gulp, and slams his mug down on the counter. Edict, the Witch Hunter is in town on the account of rumors that a mage is planning to attack once again. A mage that he has been looking out for for 5 years. The hunter pays the bartender and leaves the pub. It's too crowded in the Ugly Mug for his liking, he would have to find another place to sleep for tonight.

 As of right now, though, he wanders over to the merchant's booths lining the near by street and browses the merchandise. While glancing at a booth, the owner of it speaks to him, "Hey, uh, what's going on with your shield there... It looks a little... Uhm... Magicky... You wouldn't happen to be a... Magic user of any kind would you?", the merchant rattles off somewhat nervously, while glancing over Edict's shoulder.

Edict's eyes narrow at the booth owner, aware of the two guards behind him, ready to strike.
"It's the complete fucking opposite." the merchant seems almost stunned by Edict's harsh tone.
"Do you know what anti-magic is? Of course you don't. Let me spell it out for you. It is anti-fucking-magic. The opposite of magic. Now I suggest you tell those two guards to fuck off before you piss off the best defense you have against any magic that may or may not be coming this way.", the Witch Hunter basically spits at the merchant. Edict turns, pushes passed the stunned guards, and quickly leaves the immediate area.

"This is why I work alone", Edict's deep, hollow voice, almost sadly, says to his boots as he wanders the streets, looking for somewhere to stay the night.

[Assistant]
"So anyways, anyways." she avidly told her friend, a mug of ale clasped in one hand with a bit of liquid trickling between two sticky fingers, "Th'nex' day th'firs' mate comes runnin'n down to'th'cap'n's quarters an' he wails, 'Cap'n! Cap'n! They's twenny Imperial sheps on th'orizon! What d'we do?!'" she threw forward her head as she told the joke, preemptively breaking out into her own chuckling and snickering. She had to take a moment to calm down before she could go on, "Righ', righ'. So th'firs' mate asts, 'Should w'git'che yer red shart?' an' th-th--" she broke into another bout of laughter. This joke was always far too funny, "Righ'. So th'cap'n says, 'No lad. Git-- Git me m'brown trousers!'" this earned a roar of laughter at her own joke. She raised her mug and took a drink, sputtering a little from her own amusement.

The day had just begun for the two, but Pip would be damned if she didn't start off her "morning" without a drink. She wasn't the type to sleep in, but she also wasn't the type to run on too little. The redhead had become accustomed to waking at noon every day, enjoying a drink and a good chat, and heading out for their daily work early in the afternoon. She used her free hand to prick more seeds from her eyes. Where did those things keep coming from?

"Anyway, anyway. I know y'must'a 'eard that'un b'fore, bu' I swear it don't make it any less funny. Gimm-Gimmie m'brown trousers. Bloody brilliant!" another gulp of the drink yielded empty. She peered into the cup in disappointment, as if she simply wasn't seeing the rest of her beverage. When her observation came up fruitless, she set the mug down on the counter,

"Y'finished wit'cher drink, Joey?" the girl inquired, resting her arms against a leg that'd been propped on the stool, "Figger s'a good time t'be 'eadin' out?" admittedly, she was always excited. When every day was a party like it was for Pimmy, what wasn't there to anticipate?


[System]
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Race: Elf

Appearance: Javier stands at a small height of 5'5", or at least small by his race and gender's average height. Although this doesn't really bother him. He has white hair and has dull grey eyes, a result from some sort of abnormal genes from his parents but he couldn't be too sure. From his chin and downwards, he has a white tattoo that was placed on him when he was just a young boy. While he isn't "body-builder" muscular, he has visible muscles thanks to the constant training he had to undergo in the guild and before. In jobs, he would usually wear light armor, given that he is an assassin, [refer to the picture above]. He would often carry two long and slim daggers with him, hidden in his person. A black bow may be found in his hands at times, but not too often. When he's not on a job though, he would often be seen in a beige shirt, pants, combat boots and black gloves.

Backstory: Abandoned when he was just an infant, Javier never knew his parents. He was picked up by the leader of a mercenary guild after finding the poor boy abandoned in the streets. It was more of finding another member than out of pity though. That's why Javier grew up with close to no morals at all except for being loyal and being dedicated to something you want to do. By the time that he was five, he was already taught things he had to know to live, like reading, writing and talking. By the time he was six, though, he was already taught how to wield a knife. As he grew older, the training just got progressively harder. He was placed under the care of Ovir, an assassin, to teach him what needs to be done as an apprentice of the guild.

Training was harsh but Javier endured. By the time he was eleven, he had already killed over ten people and infiltrated over sixteen houses. He murders in cold-blood. He has also felt like the guild is his family. While they're not exactly the caring type, they're fun to be around. This was also the time he had gained his tattoo since he is now seen as a full fledged member of the guild and not an apprentice.

A year later, however, King Darion had caught them and put everyone on trial. However, upon seeing Javier, a young teen at that time, he felt pity. Being the good king he is, he released the young man. But not without something in exchange. He asked if Javier was willing to join the Hunters. Javier was initially reluctant to accept since he is already part of a guild but King Darion mentioned that they were on death row. He will not have a place to live in anymore. Javier was convinced soon after that and decided to swear loyalty to King Darion and the Hunters.

Ever since joining up with the Hunters, his views on how he could live his life had changed. They were a bunch who truly cared for the kingdom, apparently. Although it did nothing to change his views on a life. That was the sad and harsh reality. But most did not mind since he had become more easygoing and fun to be around. He has skills too so that was a bonus for them. When he turned twenty, he started to actively learn Dark Magic. Not necromancy or blood magic or any of those stuff. He wants to bend the shadows to his will. Currently, he is able to cloak himself with darkness so that he will have a higher chance of sneaking around.

Personality: Javier is a generally passive guy when it comes to insults and criticisms. He would often be seen just smiling or laughing it off. It's more like he just couldn't care less of what others think of him. Although he does welcome criticism, especially in his work, skills, abilities so that he can further improve himself. He's a pretty nice guy and helpful as well. He's a pretty chill guy, often seen relaxing when not on a job. While he is dedicated to his job as a Hunter, he does love his rest times too. He adores children in his off time and spends time playing with them, given that they don't mind playing with an elf.

Javier is a cold-blooded killer. He feels nothing when he slips a knife into someone else's body. He feels nothing when blood is sprayed all over the ground. He feels nothing when they don't move. That's the type of killer Javier has been molded to become, and he honestly doesn't mind it. Since he is dedicated to his work, it just gives him an advantage over a lot of people. He doesn't hesitate to end someone's life for the sake of his job. He doesn't even care if it's right or not. He also doesn't care too much if something close to him dies since he knows everyone will die eventually.

Weapon skill/choice: Daggers, Bow, Dark Magic (basic)
Weapon picture: [See picture above]
Notable ability: An expert in stealth, knows basic dark magic

"A job is a job. An order is an order. Do it or die." - Master Ovir
"People eventually die anyway, so why should I care if someone dies?" - Javier Illivis
"Loyalty and Devotion. No mercy and remorse." - Mercenary Guild saying.

[User]
Well, it was a mind reading test so that makes more sense of the whole situation, the intellectual test seemed fairly easy, it was common knowledge. The room was full of new-bloods all trying to rack their brains around the questions. It did not take long for Nlossae to finish up the test, she did not waste her time on thinking to in depth on the questions. It did seem like an odd situation a bunch of fighters taking a test? Not to mention seeing some of their handwriting it was not going to end well for most. But now knowing that someone was reading their minds made much more sense than the paper test.

Well now everyone is headed outside for the physical test. This is probably one of the most exciting moments for Nlossae in a very long time. It was the perfect time to prove herself whether it be a test of agility, strength or skill, she was prepared for anything. Sure it required sparring, that may be a problem, she is not used to fighting nimble opponents it might be her Achilles heel. There were a lot of ways the test could go, and hopefully, the test would be something Nlossae could excel at.

The line was full of eager individuals all ready to prove themselves, each one carrying their weapon on hand prepared for the task. Each one seemed just as confident as the one next to them, confidence can be crippling in a fight. There was a conversation going on down the line but Nlossae was not interested in that right now, she was observing the training ground, trying to figure out the next test.

 That was about the time that Varioyn began to speak, it seemed a little disappointing that there was not going to be a very tough challenge, at least as of what Volric seemed to be saying. Then the beast was summoned, a Demorbear! Nlossae got very excited at that moment, she spent all of her life hunting and fighting beasts. It is hard to outsmart most opponents but when the opponent is a monstrous creature it is easy to stay calm and wait for your strike.

Nlossae nearly ran up to fight right away, thinking that it would be such an easy fight! Then the young man beat her to the punch. He walked up just as confident as she was, but all of the sudden he stepped on the trap. That was the moment that the challenge changed for Nlossae, it was no longer just a simple fight with the Demorbear, but none the less she was still confident in herself.

Varioyn invited the next person to give it a try and Nlossae was ready to step up.

 I'll go next!

She chooses to follow down the same path that the young man before her took. While walking she pulled out her long sword and grasped it in both hands pointing directly at the large beast. As she made her way down, Volric waved his hand once again and the bear awoke, just like prior. The Demorbear got up to its feet and let out its demonic roar, but Nlossae did not shake. As she got close to where the trap was that the boy stepped on, she stopped moving. It was clear that she had no idea what dangers lurked past this point, and it might be the best choice not to blindly run into the minefield of traps while fighting a large bear. So instead she took a defensive stance and lifted her sword above her head while keeping the tip aimed at the bear.

The bear kept walking towards her, it was a very monstrous creation. Sure, Nlossae has hunted her whole life, but this creature was a sight to be seen. She kept calm breathing in and out, just waiting for the time to strike. The Demorbear seemed to grow tired of waiting for his opponent to do something, he scratched his dangerous claw into the dirt and began to charge. As the bear began to lunge at Nlossae she too jumped towards the beast. It was a very long beginning to a very short fight. As the beast opened its jaw to bite at the half-elf girl, she was able to shove her sword into his gaping maw. It was a very quick death for the impatient beast.
Nlossae pulled her sword out of the Demorbear as it disappeared from where it once laid slain. She looks up at Varioyn with a very large grin on her once serious face. Her personality and figure now had completely shifted, she seemed to be acting almost childlike, and very proud of what she had accomplished. After it seemed like her challenge was over she slowly exited the area and headed back to the group waiting in the line.

[Assistant]
(Meshiro shoved his way to the front using his staff to bonk those in his way while using his free hand's index finger to pick his nose & then scratch his rumpus/ He'd then start thinking in his head the following.)

Let's see here... A demorbear. To be able to summon one is pretty impressive, signori. Distant from the hell hounds, and much more powerful, I learned all of this back in Penrith.

(Meshiro looked onward as the first young man was dispatched with haste, giggling gently as his devious and sadistic nature allowed him to. Such a demonic atrocity could surely lay waste to this entire rowdy bunch of people, and its battlecry was a deafening one which nearly melted his ear drums into a paste as soft as charlotte custard. What powerful taming strength.)

"Teehaha, what a fool!"

(Tsuekami continued to watch as the beast was then slain by a nimble half-blood like his self, noting the steps he should take to kill the Demorbear in his mind.)

She avoided the traps by not advancing ya ya... however I will be much moar evasive, and upfront. A demorbear could most definitely absorb flames so I'll brittle his flesh and decimate it with an intense spell of mine. Yes... I'll impress all of these primitive infid-

(Meshiro was suddenly knocked to the side by a random breeze, and hit the mud; face-first. The youngling lifted his head and cast a ray of water from his staff which sluiced his face of dirt.)

"ok."