[System]
Age:21

Gender: Female

Race: Faunus (Fox)

Weapon: Sarasagi: a highly unique blade in the fact that it doesn't transform into anything. Instead, there are two small ports in the guard, that shoot out the blood the blade collects and compresses in the hilt. The blood can be fired out one of two ways, in a thin needle, or in a thick sphere. The needle, at maximum compression (roughly 15 seconds) is shot at mach 1, and is useful for head-shotting small grim over large areas. The sphere flies much slower, but at maximum compression has enough force to knock a Ursa on it's ass.

Specialty: Mokuren has a great deal of skill and technique with her sword, and is also highly agile in it's use. Her semblance gives her the ability to go all-out on the offensive front, and not give any thought to her defenses, allowing her to bounce seemlessly from target to target and cut them down. She can use the secondary feature to shoot at the enemy, but only uses it when she feels she needs to.

Semblance: Mirror of Yata: This semblance gives Mokuren the ability to absorb and then reflect any attack that hits her, at the cost of physical exertion to use. A King Tut's strike would be more exhausting to reflect than a Beowulf's claw, for example.

Personality: Mokuren is a very, guarded person. She hides her true self behind a barrier of mirth and eccentric action, but allows the truth to stream through when he feels she is alone, or truly trusts someone. This truth is a sad, broken creature trying to survive in the world it was thrown into after the death of her family, and is haunted by a dark past that she tries to hide from everyone.

Color: Magnolia.

Emblem: Uniquely, none.

Appearance:

[User]
Abel Fulgurate

Shiro's pronouncement didn't faze Abel all that much. Not truly sure of what to do, he was glad for someone a little more familiar with the situation at hand to provide a course to take. "Oh, okay." Throughout his friend's instruction, he tried to establish eye contact, but proved unable to as his ally seemed either too nervous or too conflicted to meet his gaze for more than a couple seconds.

He wasn't the only one listening, though; the faunus girls paid heed to Shiro as well, and with renewed hope heard his words. Clearly, the squirrel girl still trusted Abel about as far as she could throw him, but his wound had signaled his fallibility in her mind, and his partnership with Shiro proved he wasn't out to get faunus, as she initially feared. Meanwhile, Coral's features were graced with a slight smile, for it looked like she had managed to convince someone poised to prevent her and her friends from being able to receive treatment to let them follow their own paths.

With Shiro finished speaking, Abel gave a curt nod. "Sure thing." He turned his back to the three faunus and began to walk away, palming his scroll and composing a message as he did.

To: Gren Orchid, Sapphire Rode
From: Abel
Subject: Pull Out

Everything's clear on our end. I'm not totally sure of everything here, but I don't think we have any jurisdiction here. There not doing anything awful here, just a surgery, not just for faunus who think it's the only way, but also for those whose traits make life uncomfortable for them. I guess we'll leave it to other authorities to see if everything is legal and all that here.

Nearly done now with the composition, Abel found his text interrupted by an incoming one from Sapphire. His eyes narrowed at the nonsensical subject, and after saving his own message as a draft, he took a look at the team leader's. Despite the abhorrent typos, the message's alarming contents were pretty easily decipherable, and they sparked a whole new slew of doubts in Abel's mind. Guards? Sure, there had been security cameras, but hadn't Gren taken care of those according to his earlier message? Bringing up his draft, Abel added more to it before sending, though he erased and redid more than half of the message after thinking of a better way to phrase it.

Shiro + I are pretty sure this is a legit establishment. If it is, any more dmg we do will be bad news for us. If we don't fight the guards, we might be able to get off as misguided. We should prob get out of here as fast as possible. S, meet me by the stairs where we entered.

Abel headed in the direction of the stairs as indicated by the emergency escape route signs on the walls.

-=-=Sapphire, Pop=-=-

Pop rolled his eyes at both Sapphire's words and her renewed readiness for combat. "There will be no blood. You act as if Faunus are universally disliked, as if all people, all their corporations, all their governments, and all their armies, are simply waiting for an excuse to erase us from existence. True, I am an optimist, but hardly a blind one. Why do you think I have guards in my clinic? Or backup files of my research elsewhere? If it ever passes that my work may pose a threat to anyone's way of life, I will personally hit the kill switch. That you could assume that I'd blindly throw my work at the world and expect sunshine and roses astonishes me—but then, let's take a look at you. I doubt you're eighteen, and yet you speak like a disciple of tragedy and pessimism, and fight like one with no belief in honor or sportsmanship. It reeks of personal experience. But looking at you, and hearing your level of education, you are not of the streets. So how could a well-born girl become so bitter, without hope, and without sympathy for anything but your own moral code?" Here he sighed. He had been aware of Sapphire doing something shifty behind her back, but couldn't guess what it might be aside from calling for help from her friends. Anticipating a surprise attack any moment, Pop removed his reading glasses and slipped them into a jacket pocket.

"Something must have happened to your family...or perhaps your family happened to you. Beyond that it is hard to say. Bottom line is, you are trying to challenge something that your own experience makes you think that you understand, but you clearly do not. I am prepared for what will come my way; I do not need you to tell me I am not, and to make my judgment for me. You wish to fight? You will lose. As a final act of civility, I will allow you to land the first blow, if only so that when I call the police afterwards, I can say with a clear conscience that I acted in self-defense."

Pop took another step forward, so that only three feet separated him and Sapphire, and he was close to blocking her into a corner. He raised his fists, but true to his word, did not strike. Instead, his aura flared briefly, a soft scarlet glow, to signify that he was ready. At that moment, Sapphire's scroll received Abel's delayed message.

[Assistant]
The Dragon's Den

If Luke and Jack were to begin drill their way out, they'd be met with several hundred feet of hard concrete as they were underground. Most likely, they'd be attacked by an onslaught of White Fang and Dragon's Den guards before even making much of a dent. They'd also discover the owner of the Dragon's Den's strange, but immense, hatred for drills. Drilling is obviously not the best plan for escape. The best plan would to possibly defeat the owner in combat and interrogate him on how best to disable the advanced security system.

Meanwhile, out on the main floor, Ciel is not in the best of situations. As several White Fang search the belongings of the Dragon's Den customers, the one that the masked owner had referred to as Morgan noticed the young girl in the crowd. "Hey, you! Aren't you a bit young to be here, girl?" she said as she approached. She was close enough that Ciel could very easily see that Morgan was a snake faunus with scales covering several random spots of skin and a completely scaled tail. She also had a pair of hidden fangs and snake-like eyes, but those were hidden either by her mask or her mouth being closed. Morgan also carried no visible weapon.

Across the street from the Dragon's Den, Murphy watches as the underground casino goes into lock down. "Team? Hello? You there?" he calls out on the radio, not knowing that all communication inside and out has been jammed. He switches channel's to call his department. "This is Murphy, I need a SWAT team at my location now... with explosives. The heavy stuff. We got a big barricade to blast through."

Several blocks away from the Dragon's Den, a lone man walking home from work casually strides down the street. "Oh boy, I just got a promotion at work, my wife is pregnant, and all of my family has their health. Nothing could possibly ruin this day," he says cheerfully as he passes a very dark alley that a very hungry cannibal could easily be hiding in to grab her next victim, if she so wanted to. But what's the likelihood of something like that happening? Not like there's some crazy fox girl running around the city who might have said cannibalistic tendencies and is already thinking of trying to find her next meal. Right?

[User]
Jack Orpheus | Dragon's Den

As Jack and Luke searched the back area, they were constantly met with dead ends and areas locked down by the security system... So far, the only route was back to the party floor. There was no alternate route out. As the two came up to around that floor, they scanned the situation... White Fang members were searching through the crowd, one of their team mates Ciel was within the crowd as they remembered. They can't see her at the moment, there was no high point to survey from, but there was a way around the sides. It looks like it was just going to be them three, as Mokuren was outside and locked out... Jack volunteered to survey the situation and told Luke to stay put and prepare a plan while he observed the room layout and enemy positions.

He's managed to figure out the general positions of the White Fang members, and spotted the White Fang's leader here... The mask was a real give-away. On the other hand there appeared to be two more major officers so to speak, based on the commands they were giving. He caught their names, Morgan and Mordred... A plan of combat may be difficult with this many people, but he has enough information, including Ciel's position, so he returned to Luke with the information.

"Ten enemies, seven of which are mooks, two seem to be officers, and there is one leader, it's possible there are more, but those are the ones I see now. I've found Ciel in the far corner..."

"Hey, you! Aren't you a bit young to be here, girl?"

Jack heard this over the crowd... It looks like they've spotted Ciel.

"If we're going to act, we'll have to act fast...", he stated. So what can they do? What can Ciel do? Jack was a little glad Mokuren wasn't here, she didn't really have a mind to keep civilians out of combat... So what was the priority? Was it to win this battle as efficiently as possible? If only they can get the rest of the civilians out of the area, this would be far easier to approach. Radio communications were jammed unfortunately, so they couldn't count on help from outside...

There was no good chance to act yet, so he waited for the moment...

[Assistant]
Lucas Schwarze--Desperate times...

Luke's face hardened, also hearing Ciel come under scrutiny of the forces patrolling the now locked-down nightclub. This situation had gone to hell in a handbasket quickly, and their search for a good place to tunnel out of had come up alarmingly empty for a nightclub in the middle of a city.

Really, how did this place turn into Fort Knox?

Shaking the train of thought away, Luke glanced out of the corner of his eye to Jack, who was currently doing an amazingly accurate impromptu impression of a loaded spring, waiting for the perfect moment to act.

He needed a moment, huh?

That gave Luke an idea.

"If you need a distraction, I've got you covered." he said lowly, switching down from drills, to gauntlets, and finally back to watches. Crouching low, he practically assumed a runner's pose straight off of a track meet, a curiously mischievous fire in his gray eyes.

"Just give the word."


[System]
Physical Form: Mar, as one of his titles suggests, has no defined form, only being recognized most as like a black, blood-like fluid that can move on its own in any way it wants, taking up any shape or form that he wants or needs to.

Abilities: Is currently incapable of using magic, but can learn it. Physical combat ability is potentially unlimited, the only limiting factor how much mass he has. Is capable of learning flight, and is able to harden different parts of himself into rock-like, iron-like, or harder consistencies.

Personality: Calm, tactical, observant, and to many uncaring or indifferent. To others, should they earn it, a good ally to have.

Wants/Needs: Doesn't exactly have any, though he has a thirst to learn and recover the history that was lost to him. Both of which he feels capable of doing himself. Does have a passive want of getting stronger, however.

Relationships: None for now.

Backstory: Mar has no memories from before he 'woke up'. So instead, I'll talk about when he was released. He was sealed inside an urn in some ruins right on the border of the elvish and dwarven territories, and a small group of elven warriors was sent to investigate, explore, and obtain anything of their people to bring back. One of them, a female elf, entered the chamber in which his urn resided. A couple of the other elves followed and they each went about searching the many bookshelves and few chest in the room. The female, unfortunately for her, touched the urn and it cracked from age. Right as that happened, the doors slammed shut, likely due to ancient magic, and a black blood from inside the urn shattered it as he lunged at the elf.

One swing of the sword went right through it and did nothing, one swing was all she could do before it clung to her chest. She didn't feel it, but multiple small cut were made on her skin, then she felt the pain of the fluid entering her body through those cuts and her mouth and nose. Needless to say, he passed out and Mar took control, slaying the other elves in the room that tried to help her before he entered another dormant, restful state. The elf would wake up later, in a cage being drawn into the mountains by dwarves, feeling something inside her body and at the back of her mind.

Other: Nothing at the moment.

[User]
As Torrens entered the settlement, he found that a squadron of dwarves was coming to intercept him, probably initially intended as reinforcements for the dwarves which had just been blown up. This contingent was made up of a few pikemen, as well as several axe-throwers. If Torrens had been at full strength, such a fight would have been trivial. However, with his presently limited amount of energy, he needed to carefully ration the amount of fire he used until he could find some source of heat.

To start, Torrens pointed his fingers at the dwarves and fired a couple of bolts of fire at them. The first one, with the advantage of surprise, landed its mark and felled a pikeman. The second was blocked by a shield, and Torrens did not waste his time trying to get any more bolts past their shields. Then Torrens charged forwards at a full sprint, strafing aside as dwarves threw axes at him and managing to avoid getting hit by too many. When the gap between him and the dwarves was just a few meters Torrens lashed his hands forwards and cast out a fireball- not a very hot one, but one which would erupt into a large and disruptive plume of flame. With the dwarves distracted momentarily by the searing heat and the bright light, Torrens was easily able to slip past the spears pointing at him and push into the ranks of dwarves. As he entered, he clambered over the stocky figures, grabbing at their faces whenever he was capable or otherwise forcing his way past on threat of third degree burns.

In just a couple of seconds of confused panic amongst the dwarves, Torrens had made it to the other side. Torrens cleared the group by a few paces, turned and taunted "Bye". Then Torrens turned and ran, easily outpacing the dwarves.

As he continued, he found that Clotho's insect swarms had already cleared many of the streets. Those streets which remained held by the dwarves, however, were held tightly. One such barricade that caught his attention, however, was one which was using coals from nearby forges to rain down onto the bugs below. At the street level, the barricade was held by pikemen and dwarves with warhammers and battleaxes for whenever the Myrmidons pushed through the first line of pikemen. In the windows of the buildings adjacent to the barricade were dwarves with crossbows, raining bolts of steel upon the Myrmidons below. And on top, along with the urns of embers, were more crossbowmen and also a few dwarves with blunderbusses, which were keeping the flying Lambent at bay.

Torrens wanted to get to those top floors. However, to get there, he would need to somehow gain access to the buildings, and there were no doors or ground-level windows on this side of the blockade, or else it would have been overrun already. The walls were made of stone, so he had no power to barge through them, and it appeared that any attempts by Antlions to get to the walls had been hindered by the rain of embers from above. And Torrens didn't have the power to spare to simply charge through the blockade. However, after a few moments of consideration, he did notice that one window of a building he wanted to get to was within leaping distance of the roof of another building which wasn't under dwarven control. A couple of dwarves guarded it from the inside, but that should hardly be a problem.

Torrens entered the adjacent building and climbed to the rooftop. As he emerged, he was noticed by the crossbowman in the window he wanted to get to, and was struck squarely in the shoulder by a crossbow bolt. A small jet of flame erupted as a result, although it barely staggered the fire demon. Swiftly, Torrens retaliated with two bolts of fire, dispatching both the crossbowman and the pikeman guarding that window, then he ran forwards and took a running jump towards that window. A dwarf with a blunderbuss on the roof noticed him and took a shot, but that shot flew wide and landed behind Torrens. Torrens landed half way in the window, grabbing onto the windowsill with both arms. As he pulled himself over, he was almost knocked out of the building by a solid blow by a dwarven warhammer to the face, leaving Torrens dangling out of the window and somewhat peeved. Before the dwarf could follow up the attack Torrens hurled himself up so that his head was above the windowsill and breathed out a cone of fire which engulfed the dwarf, immolating him. Given a few seconds of respite, Torrens was able to climb fully through the window and enter the building.

Inside, he was faced with more dwarven warriors who were intent on stopping him. However, Torrens didn't have to get through all of them, only enough to get him to the staircase. Charging forwards, Torrens cleared his path with a tactical fireball, scattering the two dwarves who were in his direct path, then dashed through the opening and up the stairs. On that rooftop, many of the crossbowmen and blunderbuss dwarves on the roof turned in surprise at the intruder, but before they could turn their weapons and open fire Torrens had already made it to the nearest large urn of hot embers and jumped inside, scattering some of the embers onto the surrounding rooftop.

This urn was deep enough to hold Torrens up to his waist, so his torso stood out above the hot coals. However, less than a moment after he had entered, the embers flared from a dull red to searing white and hot flames erupted from the urn as Torrens supercharged the combustion of those coals to feed himself. Most of the dwarves were forced to shield their eyes, although a few fired at Torrens any way in a futile attempt to do some damage. About 5 seconds later most of the coals had been reduced to a billowing cloud of searing ashes and the urn which Torrens was standing in now glowed cherry red.

Grinning and glowing with power, Torrens leaned forwards, tipped the urn over and stepped out as it fell. As the dwarves raised their weapons to shoot, Torrens made one simple quip. "I win." Then, with outstretched arms and a surge of power, he filled the rooftop with a conflagration which ignited every dwarf caught in it. Laughing, Torrens feasted on the flames of a couple of the burning dwarves before jumping down into the barricade below to join the fight.

[Assistant]
D'Artagnan mowed his way though the dwarves that were of course in his way,The small rabbit helping his steed or rather his wolf pet.The two were making good process helping the group killing the dwarfs underground.His wolf was in the crowd closes to the group to become back up for the group,Meanwhile D'Artagnan was in one of the watch tower killing off the soldiers inside and the archers that were firing at the group at at his pet.

D'Artgnan was climbing up the stairs of the tower one by one he conquering the tower form the bottom to the top,The small bunny much to the confusion of the Dwarfs were seeing this cute looking rabbit brandishing a sword murdering their kin one after another.D'Artgnan after what seemed like a hour and a half D'Artgnan had killed most of the dwarfs inside of the tower and given the group a bit of breather room to battle below.His wolf was getting closer to the group the large black wolf flinging his sword back and forth chopping the attacking dwaves in half with each swing of his sword.

D'Artgnan came out of the tower running down the stairs of the tower to rejoin the group killing the dwarfs that were in his way.He finally made his way out of the tower his body racing pasted the small figures slashing them while he was on the move towards the group.


[System]
Nickname:
Warden
Age:
19
* Picture:
i.pinimg.com/736x/5c/f8/84/5cf8843fe1…
Data:
Human (Male)
Born: Sextilis 4
height:
6'0
weight:
145 Pounds (without armor), 185 Pounds (with armor)
eye color:
Blue
hair color:
Brown
skin color:
White

Blurb:
An honorable man, Alphonse is well spoken and mannered. He is composed in battle relying on his sword more than magic, but, he is prone to losing his temper and being reckless when in danger, or when his friends are threatened.

Alphonse, hailing from a tribe known as Ashfield a tribe with medieval roots, started combat training when he was 12, being accepted into the guard of his home, He quickly advanced in rank among the guard, until he was accepted into the elite, known as 'The Wolves'. The Wolves taught him how to effectively use two weapons, The Longsword and The Pike. While though he prefers the pike for its range, and because he dedicated most of his training to the use of that particular weapon, he has taken to the longsword due to it being more easily carried.

Shortly after his final bit of training concluded, it seemed as though the earth cracked, destroying most of his village. The Wolves sent out Alphonse to find the source of what they would call 'The Break', arming him with armor and a longsword, The Rogan Blade.

Before his left, as tradition would have it, he gained the name 'Warden'.

Equipment:
Chest- A thin, Fragile copper with blackened leather underneath, A copper plate on the left side of his chest, with an eagle etched onto it.
Arms/Hands-Thin copper Gauntlets with black leather arms.
Shoulders- Layered Black Leather, with reinforced steel underneath (To give extra swinging power when using his sword.)
Legs: Copper armor down his legs except on his knee, his knee has black leather, to keep him more mobile than the average knight.
Feet: Basic copper boots
Sword:
Basic Longsword and a holster for the sword draped over the back of his armor.

[User]
Warden had been surprised by the size of a city, while though not small his modest hold couldn't hold a candle to the magnificence of the area. Despite the guards heed to look nice, Warden kept his copper helmet on concealing his face, half surprised that nobody ordered it off of him. The house of the immortal was less than spectacular, other than a few fancy looking pieces of tech nothing stood out.

As soon as Warden had been invited into the home of the immortal he kneeled in her presence "My dear lady, my name is Alphonse Loescher, Son of Bruce Loescher, From a land called Ashfield."  He said, standing up shortly after.
Warden Kept mostly silent for the remainder of the conversation.
That was until the one known as Liliana spoke of Necromancy
"Magic of the devil, huh? Be careful what you wish for." He responded bluntly, unwilling to say more to the stranger, as he turned to Lady Winter and asked
"My lady, I would like to learn the opposite, Magic for healing the alive and banishing any undead, do you think such would be possible?"

Warden kept mental notes of where they would be traveling.

When the King entered the fray, Warden extended the same greeting as he did to Lady Winter. When questioned about what supplies he needed Warden piped up after Goro,

"As for weapons and armor..." Warden said as he drew his dulled sword slowly from his back, not wanting to intimidate anyone
"My Hold's armor is sturdy enough, my Sword could use a sharpen though, and perhaps a pike of sorts." He said as he put his sword back in its holster.
"I could use the same survival gear as that Goro fellow, I got plenty of food and water for myself already though, as well as torches." His mind sparked again with an idea of what else he could use.
"Maybe some bits of leather, In case my armor gets damaged, if you would be so kind." He said.

He looked towards Goro and said
"If you need armor, I have an extra set that might be able to fit you. It's sturdy and reasonably light."

[Assistant]
Catarina wasn't too impressed by Winter's little cottage. She had to admit, she was expecting something more... Professional. It looked more like a storage shed than a proper place for a powerful Immortal, or even a workshop. But Catarina supposed that when you're as powerful as Winter Valentine, you can afford to be sloppy. After everyone else made their introduction Catarina spoke her name too. "I am Catarina La'Spada, a Knight of Thorns from the kingdom of Sieglinde. I hope to learn magic to protect my people and become a better warrior." She didn't really pay too much attention to the others, only picking up on small quirks and names. Goro was missing a hand, Liliana wanted to be a necromancer, Nkosi came from a forest, Alphonse came from Ashfield. Catarina was just really eager to get going.

Before they would set out, they would need more equipment. She couldn't disagree with that; Catarina only had her sword, her armored gauntlets, and a horse. She could use supplies and more equipment if it was available. The only reason she doesn't have her own suit of armor was because a full set of plate was both expensive and took a long time to make; unless this king happened to have some her size just collecting dust in the armory, she doubts they'll have much for her. But Catarina would take what she can get.

"Let's see, how about a shortbow and some arrows? Longbows aren't good on horseback after all. As for armor if you happen to have any platemail that fits me, I'll take that. Traveling supplies is a must too. Food, water, medicine, anything and everything we'll need in case of emergencies. Wouldn't want Lady Winter to suffer needlessly on the road after all."

[User]
New Items Acquired:

* One-handed spiked steel club
* Parrying dagger
* Utility knife
* Javelin with sling
* Steel helm
* Steel chestplate
* Steel buckler
* Studded leather boots
* Leather tents
* Waterproof fire starter kit
* Small bag of coal
* 50 feet of silk rope
* 50 feet of hemp rope
* Reinforced steel torches
* Whetstone set
* Steel pike
* Sack of leather scraps
* Shortbow
* Quiver with 20 arrows
* Medicine kit: painkillers, antidotes, healing salves
* Canteens

Servants took down the requests and went shopping. By the time the sun rose to high noon, everyone received their requested items.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Winter said, and offered a respectful curtsy.
The king folded his arms and smirked. "You can thank me when you return from your journey."

As they turned to leave, the king began to cough and clutch at his throat. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees and vomited blood onto the floor. "What's...happening to me?" he groaned.
Winter raced to his side and materialized a gauntlet on her hand. She traced it over him, and paled when she learned the truth. "What the living hell?!..."

"He's melting. Inside out."

What were once the king's legs were now bags of skin. His sickening retches and groans filled the palace. Beyond pity and disgust, Winter felt a chill through her very soul. Magic. It must be. She glanced around and spotted a guard leaving through the front gate.

"After him!" she cried.

At that, the guard broke into a sprint and ran straight into the city, where chaos reigned. The magical energies from the chasm finally reached Midhaven, and people from all walks of life explored their new powers. Fire and ice, gale-force winds and cracking earth, clones and golems, magic of all kinds erupted throughout the city. Even the guards left behind their weapons to join the chaos. Tracking the assassin would be difficult.

Winter balled up her fists as she watched the party chase him out the palace gate.

I know who you are.

The time has come to settle old scores.

[Assistant]
Catarina was slightly disappointed all she managed to get was her bow and supplies, but she wasn't going to raise a fuss about armor. There was actually a tradition among the Knights of Thorn about collecting armor from defeated enemies. "Iron Men" they were called, though Catarina doubt any armor she savaged from other warriors would fit her. But it was the thought that counts. As everyone was gathering their gear Catarina went to her horse to load up the gear onto the saddlebags. She rode a large black mare, built for speed. Catarina had to be very mindful of her weight and supplies since while her horse was strong, too much weight will drain her stamina, which could spell disaster in the middle of a fight.

And then everything went to hell. The king vomited out blood and an assassin was on the loose! What seemed like a peaceful and well fortified city easily turned to chaos as magic began to surge. Catarina had heard of hysteria causing people to riot, but for chaos to spread so quickly, it couldn't be anything but magic! However Catarina didn't let the destruction sway her. She immediately mounted on her horse and chased after the assassin. "I don't know how he could kill the king with magic, but if he can do it, so can I!" Magic had just come into their world, how could it be that an assassin could master it so well to kill a king in his own court? A question Catarina would ask the assassin himself!

This man might've been fast but not faster than Catarina's horse, and certainly not faster than her arrows. She drew her shortbow and loosed an arrow aimed at the assassin's lower back; this way even if she should miss the arrow would either strike his legs or hit the ground, and not anyone else that might be in the crossfire. And Catarina was confident in her aim; she could snipe rabbits hidden in a brush, an armored assassin may as well just been target practice.


[System]
The white star, Illuminator

Domain:
Knowledge

Appearance:

Typically, Iva'Krorh is depicted as a pure white being with a crown or wreath of horns of some sort extending from their head. Curiously, they are never depicted as either male or female, often appearing with traits of either. One thing across all his depictions however, is the gods lack of facial features.

Realm:
Cy'Lathak, The Library of Eternity

Located far, far, away from civilization at the supposed edge of the world sits Cy'Lathak. A place where all the knowledge of the world supposedly converges and is cataloged, filed away by The White Star. One can reach it without divine guidance, but it is hidden from the world beyond a frigid sea, beyond a primordial forest where vicious, ancient beasts roam, past vicious white storms, all with puzzles and challenges only those with wit and insight could win against. Only those with a true lust for knowledge will ever reach it, and Cy'Lathak will welcome any such person.

In truth, Cy'Lathak itself sits not in the mortal world, but a fracture between it and the void. On the edge of madness and clarity, the precipice upon which all knowledge in the world ends up, eldritch and terrible or otherwise. The entrance is located on a small, frigid island far to the north where the only people Iva has given their temporary patronage live. The entrance is carved into a massive wall of ice that spans the length of the entire island the people call 'The Wall of Hlakth'. Multiple entrances exist within its cavernous, icy walls, but none are so easily accessed. Attempting to scale the icy wall to access the Library will only lead to failure.

The Library itself is a simple, single building for now...but surely, as more knowledge is generated, it shall become grander. History, mortal achievements...scientific discoveries.

(To be updated as it becomes relevant in the RP)

Biography/History:
Iva'Khrorh is about as stable as a nuclear reactor. The god can't help itself, in their constant lust and striving for all knowledge, his sanity seems to have taken a bit of a hit. Perhaps it was never there to begin with. Regardless, they desire one thing, and one thing only. Knowledge above all, no matter what it is or how it is attained. It's view on its siblings, could simply be described as uncaring. If he takes interest in another god, it is surely because he is plotting something.

Iva'Krorh seems to take great pleasure in meddling in the affairs of mortals and other gods, offering them knowledge for a price, or simply seeing what a peasant would do with the power to slay kings. He often simply observes, looking for opportune moments to give people knowledge that would change the status quo. His direct interest however, is difficult to achieve, but if they have deemed something interesting, they will refuse to let it go until they have thoroughly exhausted it.

The only people who currently have the fickle gods interest, is a small settlement upon the frigid Isle that has become known as 'White Dawn'. The people seemed to have been there for quite some time, living in icy huts, running constantly from the beasts that stalked the Lyssian Forest and hunting what meager food and berries they could scrape up. Seeing an opportunity, the god took it.

It gave them knowledge, for a price. It taught them the miracle of fire and basic tools. Needless to say, his interference greatly assisted these people. The price paid? Once every winter, a single person shall attempt making the trek to Cy'Lathak.

None of these people have yet to make it to the mythical Library. The people of White Dawn are near unshakable in their faith, and believe that once one makes the trek, they shall be granted even more knowledge.

Notes:
(Leave this empty. As the rp goes on any details you wish to record go here. Once this CS is submitted Do not edit any other portion of the CS aside from this without the GM's consent.)

Misc:
The village of White Dawn is likely the most advanced of the human cities, with Iva giving them knowledge of fire and basic tools. Whatever they do with that, is entirely up to them.

(More to be updated as the RP progresses)

"Put that on my Tabula"

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Relationships
* Oao
 "Such a craven little wisp." The Illuminator cackles in a light, ethereal tone. "Pathetic. Fear is the enemy of progress. Perhaps I should invite her over for tea? She has no reason to fear the sun and be so callow. Tee-hee! Perhaps she'll blot out the sun with her darkness."
* Anu'Varr
 "So malicious! So fiendish! So...intriguingly beautiful! Are her cords as devilish as she?" He tilts his head to the side. "Should I pluck them from her chest, strum them as a musical instrument? Or perhaps weave them into socks for my pets? I can't decide."
* Ferron
 "I wonder I wonder, what does he see in the metals oh so precious? Ah, so many things I could make with them!" A pause. "Perhaps I should take it from him? Perhaps not."
* Hayim
 "Plants so green! Not tainted by the devilry of Anu'Varr. Medicinal. Perhaps I should invite him to the forest?" A sigh seemed to escape the gods featureless visage. "Ah, but such a pacifist. Cowardice. Progress & Knowledge hurts. Pacifism dulls the mind, like sharp thorns bleeding into it. Perhaps I should play with him in the Forest? See how he handles conflict? I wish to know, so I will."
* Dirka
 "Ah! This one! This one I enjoy the company of. Madness loves company? Or was it something else...?" The White Star shook their head vigorously. "Matters not. All avenues of thought and knowledge shall be explored! Perhaps a little soft...maybe will attempt to see how she handles something not so nice? Curiously curious. Still matters not. Such pleasant company! And so funny!"
* Iarus
 "Ah, interesting! How interesting! Similar, but so very different. Scheming little flibber. I too, have schemes. Secrets. Plots. Who doesn't!" A feminine giggle. "He is nothing special. Weak. Pathetic. Perhaps I should give him something that would help? The schemer becomes the schemee? Yes, I just made that word. I can do that. 'Tis my purview."
* Sommler
 "Ah! Destroyer of knowledge! Bane of understanding! Should I cower in my skin?" A joyful, half mad giggle. "That's right. Eat up my knowledge! Devour it as a ravenous beast devouring the last human who made it to my library! I shall uncover it again in time. Oh what a wonderful game we shall play!"
* Azhriel
 "Ah, the god of souls. Thinks he has quite a secret!" One of their hands reaches up to his horns, beginning to scratch at the protrusion. "Indeed he does! Ah, I wish to know. I will have him show me what he is hiding. How do I know he is hiding something? Simple. I am knowledge. I do."
* Sveiand
 "Such a cold one!" The god does a pirouette, tilting his head to the side. "A little warmth never hurt anyone! Perhaps he and Ragnagedon should get together and hug! That'll warm him up, and cool down that idiot!"
* Ragnagedon
 "Mad? MAD!?" Iva'Krorh begins laughing uncontrollably, a manic cackle that somehow manages to feel like sharp nails digging into the mind. "MAD! HIM?! That pathetic ball of rage and destruction?" The laughing abruptly stops. The air seems to freeze, pausing the mind as the next ethereal words from the Illuminator took a far darker, more sinister tone. "He is not mad. He is not insane. No. Just a bratty, spoiled child. He is merely a pompous, self-righteous fool. If he wishes to see true madness...perhaps he should crack open my head, peer inside? Ah, I would welcome the chance to alleviate this mind of mine, burdened so!" He paused. "...Ah, no no...t'would only make him worse."
* Naswaru
 "Ah, the master of beasts! Makes many quite a fun beast! I have captured many myself. Dissected. Cut open. Hanged upon a hook." He'd probably be grinning, had he a mouth. "Always fun, learning the most efficient method of rendering his creations useless!"
* Dao Rugadh
 "Ah, memory! Annoying! Thankfully my memory is always perfect, haha! Once I learn something, I shall never forget unless on purpose." A quiet hum, before quickly looking around. "...now where'd I put those bird feathers?"

For more information, clicky here~
The Library of Eternity

---

Miscellaneous

A symbol that Iva created to mark things that are 'theirs', whatever that exactly entails is known only to him. The Kadisht and Lloi of White Dawn have thought many a night and day over its meanings, but a solid conclusion fails them. In effect, it simply functions as a key to a locked door. A guiding light upon the path of understanding. They say the mark represents Iva's visage, while others say its a torch illuminating the darkness around it.

[User]
Ferron
Algorithm-Gammaton
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The quicksilver golem reached its hand-like protrusion towards the scroll, but instead of grabbing it, it was absorbed into the mercurial construct. Bishop began to melt into the ground, carrying the scroll with it as it returned to its master.

After a few moments, Ferron had read the scroll and proceeded towards the administrative hive. He pulled at his dirt cloak, as he not comfortable with the humidity of the jungle. His mercury golem moving slowly behind him. He cautiously approached the doorway to the hive, announcing his presence,"I have arrived, Brother Gammaton."

He then took a single step into the hive, before pausing for a moment. The idea that all he wished for was a conversation was suspicious, however it perhaps was merely because the request was so simple. "What is this matter that you wish to discuss."

[Assistant]
Zee

 Rescorje snickered from the statements. Then when she asked what he was, he outright laughed. When he was done, he wiped green tears from his eyes. "Well, no offense me'lady, but it wasn't a charity. Nor does the mistress think you weak. The gift she had planned so you could invade surrounding territories by gaining some powerful entities, using your sin curse as their essence, so they are beings of devilry. The other ingredients to make them only she knows. Two, you have the misconception words are necessary for all magic..." The crystal golem next to him burst into flames and slowly melted. "...When that's just not the case. My goddess couldn't be here because she was dealing with Gammaton's 'thick-headed-ness' as she put it." Then he snapped his fingers and the golem reformed. It felt itself to see if it was actually there and not dreaming. He then walked closer to the goddess.

 "And as to what I am, you'd have to find my parents and ask them, for I'm pretty sure I'm the first of my kind, and the secret of my birth is the greatest one of all." He then smiled cheerily. "And whether you accept the apology or not is up to you. My mistress cares not, nor do any of her domain. Fear is not in most of our vocabulary, except when we are fearing experiment failure, but none the less. So I leave you with the mother of magic's gift. Is there a message ou'd like like me to bring her? perhaps telling her the pact is off, or are you going to for once in your existence be forgiving to one of your siblings? And before you attempt to smite me, know I will evaporate when I die, as I've learned anything removed from my body seems to turn to air. So, no magical blood for you." He cruelly smiled in a bow, waiting for her response, which he was expecting to be outrage from the amount of insults and truth he told her. Must keep her secret, and my own. Nothing would be worst than if someone found out.


[System]
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Deidamia
 25 Mentally  |  Genderless(but goes by she/her pronouns)  |  Rock Golem(usually is disguised as a human woman)

_______________________________________________

❏ BIRTHPLACE: (Well, technically, she was made, not born, but) The Foreboding Forest

❏ CASTE: Wanderer/Adventurer

❏ AFFILIATIONS: Adam Silver(Prior); The Alchemist Society(Prior)

❏ GOALS: To explore, help people, and prove to herself and the world that she's useful/not an inhuman monster.

_______________________________________________

TALENTS:
◆ Playing the flute and harmonica
◆ Smashing things(which she usually does in her golem form)
◆ Resourceful; can use almost anything as a weapon

EQUIPMENT:
◆ Her harmonica(used to have a flute, too, but accidentally stepped on it in her golem form and broke it)
◆ Bag of Holding
◆ Large, Dark Blue Cloak(it covers her up in either form)
 | Appearance

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Her human form is one of a petite, brown haired woman wearing a dark blue cloak. She has a slim hourglass figure, though also has some hidden muscle underneath the cloak, and also has an athletic figure as well. Her skin is tanned, due to being outside most of the time, and her legs are long and made for running.

Her rock golem form, meanwhile, is tall and fearsome…which makes it even weirder when the same feminine, mousy voice that she has in her human form comes from her rock golem form as well.

Personality

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Deidamia is a very shy and timid, yet kind and compassionate character. She does like helping people, and finds it much easier to do so in her human form so people don't run away screaming from her golem form, but it takes a while for her to open up to people, as she usually keeps to herself. She's very aware of her golem form's size and strength, and this awareness carries over to her human form as well, even though she doesn't need to be so careful while human. She also has an inferiority complex, usually seeing herself as a terrible monster, and she often tries to prove herself wrong by overly helping people.

Arcana

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Major: The Tower
Given that she was made to destroy and conquer, Deidamia often avoids using her Tower Arcana, and is often self-conscious about her origins. In fact, she's afraid of using it, due to being worried that she'll accidentally go too far and everyone will fear/hate her, and, as such, only uses it as a last resort. It doesn't help that her power of destruction is much stronger when she's a golem than when she's a human.

As for power scaling, in both forms, Deidamia can destroy bigger things, such as doors and tables, but can't destroy anything bigger than that yet, and also can't destroy living things, such as larger plants, animals, and any sapient race.
Minor:
The Cloak of The Moon(When the cloak is worn, it can transform the user into one specific human form.) |

Combat: 5 Culture: 2 Commerce: 2 Magic: 4 Survival: 5 Karma: 4(as a human), 2(as a golem)

[User]
Umara

---

"Farfa plans to drown us," Umara bitterly said, standing unsmiling in the rain. The half-hearted shrug she shot the silver haired patrician as he stood in his increasingly wet fine clothes implied no apology for her interruption. "Why else would he leave us waiting in this weather?"

Fresh anger shook the weariness from Umara's tired limbs as she glared at the damp eyed demon. Frustration drove the faint traces of sleep from her eyes. The journey had been long. The dangers had been many. She could summon no more patience. Sparks of anger flickered to life in her heart. The danger was obvious. The threats freely spoken. Imprisonment. Enslavement. And death, always death. As she stood facing the gates that lead into the City of Demons, Umara thought that a small bag of coin seemed a poor bargain for her services.

The carriage had brought only more strangers, strangers stranger still with each passing moment. Umara's right hand moved reflexively to the pendent that she wore. Her fingers traced the patterns etched into the soft gold. She suspected that they would find that the line between life and death among the demons to be too quick and sharp for their liking. She shook her head to drive out the angry thoughts, glancing warily at the oracle. His appearance, although darkly outlandish, barely concerned her. She did not begrudge others their eccentricities, least of all when it came to their manner of dress. There was madness in his words, but it did not bother her. Madness held little mysterious to the young pyromancer. Derangement was not uncommon in a blight and dying land.

He had woven no spells. He had spoken no curses. And he had carved no runes into the earth with his staff. The stranger did not scare her. Adorned in bone and hiding beneath a stolen shell, he simply struck her as a sad. She did not relish the smell of his rags, but she did not fear his person. Still, he disturbed her. She did not know the veracity of his claim, but the presence of an oracle demanded greater caution. Prescience was a dangerous science. Prophecy was not without risk. She had no desire to be trapped by a soothsayer's visions. She had burned through the threads that had bound her. She had forged her own fate. And she would not be ensnared again.

The diminutive knight had cast new clouds of worry over her thoughts. His introduction threatened to shatter the last mote of restraint that she commanded. In names there was power and the two strangers had offered their names freely to the demon and the monstrous guards. Trust given so freely did not bode well for their shared venture. They would say too much. They would act too rashly. She felt an unwelcome pang of regret deep within her stomach.

Unfortunately, it was well past the time for leaving.

[Assistant]
Galahad Quaid

---

"Just as well, some of us could do with a shower." Galahad chuckled with little mirth as he stood next to the young, blue haired alchemist, "That carriage was not big enough for the lot of us."

Galahad stood by the majority of their small congregation of outcasts and oddities. Strange that he might've considered himself one, but these were strange circumstances regardless. The rain beaded on the exposed metal plates of his armor not covered by the luxurious blue cloak and dripped off the locks that framed his face. Draped casually over a shoulder and held in place with a lazy gauntlet was a large polearm, fully covered, sheathed in a wrapping of linens and leather to protect it from the elements. Galahad was used to rainy seasons, back home the rain never seemed to stop- gray and overcast were the norm. The southlands had been much warmer and sunnier in general, but rains like this reminded him of home.

Their little gathering was a motley one to be sure, all sorts of freaks and oddities abound. Galahad rarely had the pleasure- or ill luck of working in groups, but on the few occasions he had, they were much like this. Especially in the south, mercenaries, adventurers, wanderers and merchants alike were a strange bunch. While most cities were a generally homogenous of their race and background, on the road the people were as varied as their stories, though most were only fit to addle your brain with their constant droning. People always thought they were more interesting than they actually were- there were exceptions of course, himself being one of them. He hadn't yet deigned to find out the stories of the others with him, but he was sure at least one of them wouldn't bore him out of his mind.

Already they had hit a snag. The goblin named Rooster seemed to have an issue with them passing through the gates and into the city itself. Perhaps there was a door tax? Either way, it was surprising that their guide- and 'employers'- were unable to open such doors for them, literally in this case. Some of the others were already on edge. Unfortunately, things could never go as simply as one hoped it seemed.

"Are they not expecting us, Farfa?" Galahad called out, his tone amused, but his face blank and bored. A free hand lightly brushed a wet lock of hair out of his face. He took a few steps forward to the relative front of the group, though not as close up as their diminutive fae knight had gone. His gaze rested lazily on the two armored guards in front of them. "If I had known there were going to be complications, I would have asked the carriage to stay a moment longer."

[User]
Ansel, the Wraith

---

Nestled among the diverse band of strangers in the carriage sat one rather unassuming wood elf. His fine blonde hair, his deep blue eyes, his knife-like ears were all normal, standard features one would imagine when they would think of an elf. A "default" elf that wouldn't so much as receive a second glance under normal conditions. It would be difficult to perceive, and perhaps even more difficult to articulate why, but there was something distinctly unusual with this elf. Though he looked around often he rarely blinked. Though he acknowledged things spoken he rarely spoke himself. His breathing was irregular, his hair and clothes ever so slightly disheveled (an uncharacteristic behavior for a wood elf). There were bags under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days yet he had no struggle keeping his eyes open. Many subtle oddities that most wouldn't event detect but in truth hide a secret.

Though this elf was a real, living person he was the ideal disguise for a soul without a body. The vessel by which Ansel had infiltrated the group, the dead hiding amongst the living. Coming to Goeta without such a mask would yield no favorable results. At least not when it came to his mission, as the temptation to reveal himself was an ever-present and amusing urge in the back of his mind. By the Gods, these meatbags don't look very promising at all, Ansel had thought to himself as the carriage came to a halt outside the City of Demons. Maybe they will make excellent distractions one day, should the need arise. As the crew departed from their ride and the guide began their spiel the blonde elf remained silent, eyes forward and attention completely on Farfa. He continued to watch the drama unfold without any commentary of his own, though internally he was already growing annoyed with the delays. When the ogres refused entry to the small crowd a frown finally escaped the elf's lips.

This is asinine. I'm ditching this knife-ear the moment we finally meet this asshole, he thought. As the rest of the party began to fidget or introduce themselves, perhaps in a bid to gain access to the city from the ogres guarding the gate, Ansel came up with a way to make this waste of time a little more fun. For himself, that is. Stood next to him was a young human girl, so young perhaps she was not finished growing. She spoke no words but was visibly upset, eyes casting about and body ever-so-slightly fidgeting. Nervous? Perhaps, but even if she wasn't it did not matter. It was her silence that made her an amusing victim. The blonde elf made a shocked expression, perfectly feigning offense at something surely appalling. "Heavens, child," he finally spoke up, his voice lowered as if to speak privately to Umara yet deliberately loud enough that even the ogres at the gate could hear. "You mustn't call them such vulgar names, lest they might hear you."

The seeds of chaos had been already been sown when the goblin confronted the guide, but even if they hadn't Ansel would feel no remorse for his practical joke. Even if nothing came of it and it went ignored, or worse still if it went unheard by the ogres, the discontent that he had created between this human girl and this elf he was controlling would surely provide him a punchline in the near future. The poor elf was going to have a lot of explaining to do once Ansel was through, and that thought alone made it all worthwhile. In the meantime he maintained his act perfectly, putting a finger up to his lips as if to hush Umara and prevent her from defending herself or calling out his lie. He didn't even look around to gauge the reactions of the others, further solidifying his act by not revealing that it was the reactions he was seeking. If I have to sit here and waste a few more minutes then I might as well milk it for what I can.

[Assistant]
Deidamia blinked as the cart came to a halt. She was about to ask why they had stopped when she noticed the ogres standing guard, which raised even more questions for her.

Why were the ogres not letting them in? Was it because Rooster didn't trust them now-

Oh.

That was probably it, wasn't it?

Deidamia sighed daintily as the rain started to hit her skin and the other passengers started talking, the woman tugging her cloak close to her body as she did.

Hopefully, the ogres would let them in soon, and hopefully, she wouldn't have to do anything rash.


[System]
Age: 400+
Race: Vampire
Faction: Darkworld

Appearance: A wiry whipcord of a man, with gaunt cheeks and high cheekbones. Perhaps most noticeable are the large saucers of blue-grey, like the sea after a storm, that gaze out from underneath thick, black, expressive eyebrows. Incredibly fine wrinkles and creases dance upon his face, by his lips, brow, and eyes. They make any guess at age difficult, but hint of haunting smiles, the ghosts of anger, and the resting place of sorrow. Unlike his dark brows and goatee, the straggled mop upon his head is straw, and reaches down at his shoulders with teasing stalks and locks.

Personality: A selfish, yet easy-going romantic searching for a muse to displace his growing existential and epistemological nihilism.

Background:
Tracing "Dylan" back through history would be a feat deserving of its own epic. Changing names and appearances frequently, you would only chase the shadows of rumours.

Life whilst he was human has been long since forgotten, not least by himself.

After came an indulgent parade of hedonism spanning centuries. Often the centre of attention and the recipient of many a lustful gaze everywhere between the courts of Europe to the dingiest of waterfront inns, there was no social circle he did not permeate, no sin he did not partake, and no vulgarity he spared himself.

Eventually this flaming desire guttered, and the pursuit of the sweet secrets of pleasure became vapid, and all of Europe lost a marvellous centrepiece, though many knew him by different names, and, as is the way with such frivolous folk who exist on the fine edge of fashion, they fast forgot him.

During the following years he was rarely seen by anybody, his religious journey towards enlightenment often requiring the walking of paths of solitude. The soul searching seemed to be in vain though, and he did not feel any closer to what he was searching for than when he started. After almost a century of pilgrimage and learning, he turned to the arts, trying to find meaning in poetry.

That is when an old friend contacted him, a friend he owed a favour. It was requested he fight in a war, and not just a human war, a war between DarkWorlders. The very idea struck a bolt deep inside, and Dylan found that he was eager to oblige this request, wanting to use this sombre and destructive event as inspiration for his creative mind.

Skills/Equipment: Nothing beyond what might be expected of a normal Darkworld fighter.

[User]
Shidya Ustenko

---

---

Shidya only half listened to the goading from opposite the wards. Idle threats, little more. If he could pass to her side, he would have already. Not that she was ready to count on that. Her greatest fear was in her ability to create the rune properly in such terrible conditions. With her light gone, she was completely blind, the blood was thick and sticky and she constantly needed to re-wet her fingers and attempt to find where she left off. Lastly the rune she needed to make was too large, and the space under her cloak too small, but seeing as it was the one of the two thin defenses she had against something that had already killed multiple of her own people, she wasn't about to part with it.

The cat bushed against her leg. Shidya cursed it silently, and kicked it less so. It responded with a hiss which she ignored, weighing her options as she groped the assortment of object in her sack. A vampire she could hold back, maybe. She had no prideful illusions on her own skills; a Darkling would kill her outright. Either would smell her out before long.

"I can't imagine I'd provide much satisfaction after the feast you've already provided yourself with." She stood, careful not to let the cloak fall. Not that it was of much use with the cat continuing to nip and mew at her ankles. She continued moving backwards, searching for the source of blood.

[Assistant]
He looked around him at her words. The corpses were rather bloody. The scent was sweet to his senses. It made him thirstier and he took another sip of Rush. He could get on the other side fairly easily if he wished, he had a key. The wards thrummed with power, ready to incinerate anyone without said key. Those involved in its creation were very talented. Still, he had killed enough people tonight and she wasn't offering him violence. Lilith pouted at this thought. 'Oh shush, babe. I just fucking eviscerated ten people. That should satisfy your bloodlust." She smiled at him in that seductive way of hers, "I'm never satisfied." Jackson laughed, that was true.

"Feel free to do what you fucking wish. Just stay over there and away from me. Or I will eat you." He called out to the feminine voice.

[User]
Dylan Stroud

Another glass of murky red liquid was placed by Dylan, his third of the night. The tickling, bittersweet euphoria of blood and alcohol toying with his mind in tandem was all too familiar to those who shared his affliction. That haze didn't stop both his eyebrows rising.

"Wait, wait, wait," He waved his hands at the air and the dawning realisation, "You mean to say," His accent seeming to shift across all regions of Europe as he spoke, and, was that a slight slur? "that you developed this system yourself?" He paused. "My, that is impressive."

At the topic of the war arose, he nodded grimly, but there seemed to be a noticeable spark in those twinkling eyes. "You think after enough times, losing a friend would become easier. I suppose I am thankful at least that I am still human enough for that not to be true." He reached for his cup, and found it empty – he hadn't remembered drinking it, but tapped it on the bar all the same, hoping to rectify the problem swiftly. "I do find myself fascinated with its affects though; war seems to strip people bare, and expose something primally earnest, but unique in them."

He shook his head, "But yes, too much killing indeed," he stretched, casting an idle gaze about the room, "but perhaps one of the many things we should leave for when we are alone," He winked. "It is the funniest thing, but I heard the walls have ears here." He returned to his fourth (or what it his fifth?) drink. The deep crimson liquid reflected Dylan's deep scowl.

"Why is it just you working on this 'Stasis Magic'?" There was something earnestly intrigued about his tone, the way it lifted at the ends, "If you want my untrained opinion, it seems far more useful than a simple paralysis. I'd throw as many minds as I could at the problem. Is it hard to understand?"

[Assistant]
-Zeiss Calavan-

At the mention of her solo venture, she gave him a wink and a giggle; it was probably the alcohol on that one. She downed her fourth drink, a Screwdriver, making sure to limit herself to one more drink so she can keep her wits about her. Wait...was this the fourth or the sixth? What was the fifth? She shifted in her stool staring at the glass, her arms resting on the table as she listened to the vampire next to her talk on about the war that surrounded them. She felt herself starting to ramble after he stopped talking to take another swig.

"I'm a genius, hun; the template I use should be understandable, but I don't know what these peons are doing. Schools aren't any better; I surpassed my seniors in my second year and they still teach the same type of inscription. For what I can tell, they don't use runes like they do a language; it has a structure and presentation that needs to be addressed when making the right ones. You don't say 'happy' when you mean 'arousal'" She got quite close to him on that word, feeling her breath on his and vice versa, "and it's the same thing with runic magic."

She asked for a glass of water and took two gulps before letting her tongue stick out to let the lack of taste set in.

"I'm too hard ahead of the game, that's what it is. It's like trying to teach school children about anthropology. Moreover, it seems as though many other warlocks and witches don't use Norse runes anymore, sticking to Celtic or Sanskrit or some other drivel. That's my job here as of current; making the inscriptions for the less talented suckers so that they can use them in the war and they STILL lose. Not my fault that they have such poor aptitude. But I agree with you; the war will strip you down to your bare bones and make you face yourself. Make you ask if you're making the right decision by being in the center of it. Ask you why do you even bother."

She let out a laugh, first nervous but slipped into silliness as she brushed the sweat on her brow; the warm atmosphere could get fairly heated in this place. She rested her head in her hands and looked at her partner of the night.

"I'm sorry; that became a bit too introspective for how many of these drinks we've had downed. So what about you, man of mystery; what are you like?"

[User]
Sarafine - The Border
@Override

---

Sarafine laughed, low and joyless, not far behind Shidya, as she reached down and plucked the body the woman was backing up towards. "Luv, I'm not sure exactly where you are, little Faerie, but I know you're close. Why don't you scamper away, yeah?" Sarafine said with a wicked smile, throwing the body down the street.

 That was cruel, Sarafine,   Asmodeus chuckled in Sarafine's ear.

"Shush, beautiful Asmodeus. Let me play," Sarafine giggled. "Now, little Faerie, take your chance. The grownups need to have a discussion. Don't disappoint me."

She crossed the Wards, having been given the necessary means incredibly quickly once they'd been erected.

"Jackson, Lilith. The pleasure is yours, do believe," Sarafine called over as she sauntered over towards the younger Darkling. "You've been busy, I see. I wanted to have a little chat, and I do believe you have the time."

 That's my girl. I assume we'll be having fun real soon, my beautiful destroyer?   Asmodeus asked with a glint of teeth.

  Yeah, soon. Very soon.  Sarafine thought in response.

[Assistant]
Jackson Grey

Jackson was leaning against a building, drinking out of his flask. Crimson Rush wasn't as good as blood, but it definitely staved off his thirst. He should have left this area a while a go but his intuition told him to stay. Lo and behold another Darkling showed up. He paused in the act of taking another drink and then put the flask away. Darklings are not common creatures. Jackson knew of pretty much everyone in existence and he could count them on his fingers. Seemed that at least half of them were in this war in some way or another. He looked at Lilith, "She can't see you can she?" Lilith pursed her lips. She was standing not far from him, looking every bit the goddess instead of demon. Finally she shook her head, her gorgeous fiery hair flowing from side to side. "She cannot. Doesn't mean she doesn't know I'm here though, pet." Jackson sputtered at that, "Pet?" She bared her fangs at him in amusement, "It's a term of affection." Jackson groaned inwardly. "Why do I keep you around?" He asked her.

She walked closer to him, tracing his jaw with her ruby tipped finger. Jackson felt shudders run through him, "Oh, lots of reasons," Lilith murmured. Lots of good reasons Jackson thought. He shook his head and playfully nipped her finger, gesturing at the newcomer that had joined his massacred hangout spot. "I really should pay attention to her. If I'm right that is Sarafine. She's very dangerous." Lilith pouted adorably, "Let her watch." Jackson actually blushed and shook his head, "No Lilith." Finally he turned his attention to his fellow Darkling.

"I hope you're not here to fight. It would be a pointless exercise for us both." Jackson said. He held out his hand all the same, the familiar red split in the air appeared and Jackson stuck his hand into the sudden hole, pulling out his silver katana. The blade thrummed with seemingly deadly desire. "I hear you're a psycho though, so I should be prepared."


[System]
Nickname/ Moniker: Old Hunter, White Hawk, Bloody Old Bird

Age: 99

Gender: Male

Species: Kin (Human half-breed of eldritch being. He's never met either of his parents)

Sexual Preference: Hetero, but has experience with both sexes. ("I got bored and spent a decade trying something new. Sue me!")

Likes : Cold-weather, any type of precipitation (rain, snow, etc.), intelligence, theater, reading (mainly deep fantasy), video games (A relatively new interest), and junk food.

Dislikes: Ignorance, cold hearted people, country music, most rum, summer or rather hot days in general.

Bio: Aria came into this world among blood and gore during the Great War, in a field hospital just behind the trenches of the English line in France. His father died the day before in the no man's land and his mother supposedly died in childbirth. The orphan, by some odd circumstances he still doesn't fully understand, was taken back the United States and raised in New York. As he grew he began to find friends within the organised crime gangs of the city under Prohibition, helping the speakeasies get supplies off the small boats off shore. Upon Aria's further investigation into his parents, he found that his mother was not human, but of some elder race without name. Some fanatics, like H.P. Lovecraft, referred to his race as being god-like. Aria was unaware of such god-like abilities until he was called upon during World War II. When he was killed in combat, he would awake the day before as if it were a dream and proceed along the day the same way until he survived. His blood also seemed to assist with other human's wounds, sealing them up quickly. He kept his race a secret from his fellow soldiers, helping with his unique perspective on battle where he could. After the war, Aria used his compensation to move to America and set up a small bar of his own. His bar has remained there ever since and he has been taking odd jobs out of there for everything from jewel heists to demon slaying. He cares little for the money, but is more interested in keeping himself entertained. Lately, video games have been a welcome distraction and has amassed a large collection.

Occupation: During the day, he works as an editor for a small media firm reporting on video game news and information. (It covers the rent at least,) During the nights, he bartends at a bar downtown, where he also subtly advertises his side business.(Hired gun, thief, assassin, monster hunter, etc.)

Country of Origin: France

Feelings about meeting their soul mate: Wonders if they will shy away from his chosen lifestyle and how old they would be when he meets them. Worries about how much time he will have with them and watching them die.

Soul mate: (Leave this blank until I assign your characters their soul mates)

[User]
Astley blinks then chuckles. "Close but not quite" he takes the drink and does a salute with it. "Thank you" wide smile before he tosses it back. "Now I must ask...what are you? Not many can come even close when my glamour is intact" his eyes sparkle with curiosity. He is right, usually the glamour keeps him hidden...unless it is his birthday. But, it is not so the curiosity remains intact.
He leans forward and his eyes seem to take on a more feral nature as he studied the man. The smile remaining on his face becoming slightly more sinister. After all, he may be a generally good person but he is still a pixie king. And that gives him a few difficulties when it comes to acting human.

[Assistant]
Aria Kelly

Aria snapped his finger. Fairies and Pixies always gave him trouble. He then realized that the man was wearing a glamour, his human and Pixie forms trading places every time he blinked. His Kin blood would reveal truths in all of his senses, much like synesthesia however discernible to him. Which sense it takes advantage of and when was completely random, so it hardly has any practical uses, excepting for silly parlor tricks. Sometimes it was even disorienting, when it took over his hearing while someone was lying.

He knew his patron wanted an answer, but he didn't exactly have one. The name of his mother's race wasn't exactly readily available to him and probably inexpiable without being very long winded. He settled on his usual response; one he loathed. "I'm a Royal Vampire or rather a royal vampire half-breed. A bit different from my cousins, who can't control themselves around humans. Blood has no addictive properties for me." Aria took a sip of his drink and hummed with delight. "I can see through simple magics like that on occasion. If I was drunk, I'd just be a normal human as it does require some focus." He calmly placed his glass down on the bar and leaned over. "Anywho, I'm terribly boring so why don't I ask you this?" He said with a grin. "What is a doctor Pixie doing in my bar humble bar? Shouldn't you be defending the forest or something?" He said with a chuckle. Aria already say a business opportunity in this. Could he be another client for his more satisfying work? It had been a solid 2 months since his last case and last time it was a simple ghost. Aria continued to sip on his drink whilst he waited for a response.

[User] Astley chuckles lowly and shrugs. "Nah I ran away from that line" he gives a small smile and raises he glass as a salute. "And forests are terribly inconvenient. My line had a different solution of claiming towns...it was quite...interesting" a look passes through his eyes as he remembers all the teenagers that had been tied down and bled. He shudders and returns to normal. "Anyway I don't often find myself in bars. So I must say I wouldn't know a humble one from a non humble one" he seems to study the glass in his hands for a moment. "Curiosity...what else do you do?" More like he realized he was rambling and decided to quit while he is ahead.

[Assistant]
Jasmine sighs, it has been a long day at work for her and she has just been able to come home and relax. She pulls her folded legs towards her chest and rests her chin. Jaze looks out from her roof, up at the stars and the night around her. She senses the settling of the night air - lifting her face to the breeze. The date on her wrist is getting closer and closer - it's all she can think about, it consumes her thoughts daily. What will our soulmate be like? Is he sweet? Charming? Mysterious? Jasmine smiled at the thought of finally having someone to call her own. She then suddenly wrinkled her brow, No, I bet he's a harsh, careless, fool. What makes you think you're actually worthy of a good man? She shakes her head and chooses to ignore that thought. "No," she mutters, "I may not be perfect, and neither will he, but we will be perfect together."

After a while, Jaze decides it's time to go back inside her house. She hoists herself over the edge of the roof, hanging off right above the bed of her truck. She slowly slides down to where it is safe to jump into the truck bed. Once inside her house, she brews herself a hot, steamy, cup of tea. She curls up in the corner of her room, smiling. As Jaze sips on her mug, filled to the brim with her favorite flavor, she thinks of the future – not just with her soulmate, but with the future in general. The sweet scent of cranberry hibiscus fills the room as she dreams.

[User]
Scorn was back outside in the world heading down the street unsure where she would go. Despite her distrust with people her age and above she couldn't stay inside all the time, especially with her overly hyperactive nature and occasional short attention span. She had to keep herself busy and going to a bar seemed like a good idea now that she was full and wouldn't be craving a live meal. She decided to go somewhere new, and hoped that the crowd wouldn't be large. She would just get her drink and find a spot where no one would bother her, if they did well, that would be their death wish.

She entered the bar, and sat herself all the way down on one end of the bar where no one else was. She couldn't help but notice her arm itching, with a slight sting to it as she had entered but she tuned it out as best she could as she waited for the bartender to stop talking with whoever and just order her drink. At least it seemed it wasn't to crowded, less people to worry about bothering her and let her enjoy her drink on her own.

[Assistant]
Aria Kelly

Aria's now slightly blood-shot eyes focused on the newcomer to his bar. It was interesting that two supernaturals would come on the same night. Maybe he was advertising too much because serendipity seemed too convenient a reason why they would both came on the same night. Perhaps he was being hunted for a previous job he had done, but that seemed far fetched. He always kept his jobs clean. Aria calmly scratched his mark feeling a faint itch and dismissed it as him simply being high. Aria's attention returned to the Pixie's question, prompting a small grin. "Apart from game journalism, I do a few odd jobs here and there. Generally people who hear of my other services are of a supernatural nature. My last job was to hunt down a feral werewolf who'd lost his way." Aria's grin disappeared and was replaced with a mask of a face, void of most emotion if it was not for his tone. It was melancholic. "It was grim work seeing as the old man was simply going senile. I made sure he went peacefully, as were the family's wishes." Aria took a large gulp from his glass and finished the pleasant drink. "Anywho, I have another patron waiting for a drink, doctor. I'll be back to you in a minute, but I must warn you it get rather crowded in here. Plenty of youngsters like to pre-game here before getting very drunk at other bars. I'd love to continue talking though."

With that, Aria leaned off the bar and calmly made his way to the end of the bar. Grabbing a small glass and whipping it down, measured up the relatively small woman's appearance. The skull face paint was very impressive, and he immediately wondered how long it took her to put it on. Her fierce eyes set out nicely from under the hood she wore. Her body language was a combination of something feral and hostile. With another scratch to his wrist, Aria gently sent the glass down on the bar. "How may I serve you tonight, miss?"

[User]
Despite her annoyance and hostility towards others around her at times, she had to play nice with some people and that included bartenders if she wanted her lovely drinks. At least the bartender of the bar she had wandered into seemed to be a supernatural as well going by his scent, though what she couldn't say. She had never come across something like him, he was different, which gave him more points to her, it got her curious, cautious still to be around him or him getting to close to her personal space but curious in finding out what he was. She eyed him for a second before giving her answer.

"Bloody Mary with a shot of Naga Chili Vodka if you have it, I want my insides to burn," she said, scratching her arm a bit as it felt like pins and needles were poking it. She couldn't help but notice the fact that it only got more annoying as the bartender had come closer, what was his game? Looking to score? She doubted it, by his looks plenty would want to eye for his attention, she on the other hand didn't feel the need to settle down nor wanted to, getting close only meant they could hurt you later. She had friends but kept them at a distance so when they turned on her it would mean little.

"What the hell do you clean this place with?" she finally asked aloud as she looked at her arm to see if she was developing some form of rash or something because whatever was going on was starting to drive her nuts, more then she usually was, of course when she looked down her eyes stopped on the name and her agitation and annoyance turn to shock and what she saw. She never remembered the thing on her arm, the thing everyone waited for most there life. For her it had been forgotten ages ago, better left out of sight, out of mind.

No it couldn't be, she thought to herself ,No. They'll only hurt her, not little Ada, I need to keep her safe.

Of course whoever in the bar who had the matching name that belong to her wouldn't have Scorn written on their wrist. That was her name now but her original name would still be written on them which made her go pale under the black and white paint on her face. She fought control of her emotions unless she wanted to throw a fit in the bar, perhaps it would at least drive whoever was connected to her away and then she could stop worrying about but then she might not get her drink.

Her head looked around uncertain on who it could be. She acted like prey and predator feeling backed into a corner now. Scorn had prepared for everything but this to protect her other half, the little girl that was shattered all those years ago, kept deep within to protect her from the cruelty of the world.

[Assistant]
Aria sighed when the young woman asked for the Naga vodka. "I only have Absolute Peppar and Spud Red Chili Pepper. I'll fix it up for you. I assume you want it straight?" He said as he picked up the glass and a lime wedge. Running the lime wedge along the rim of the glass, Aria pulled a salt shaker from below the bar and began to salt the brim of the glass. Once that was finished, Aria grabbed the two vodka's and set them on the bar and grabbed the tomato juice. As he poured, he spoke calmly. "As for what, I clean this place with, I generally use lemon Lysol and bleach for more larger messes. I'm sorry you aren't reacting well to it." Aria reached under the bar and picked out Tabasco sauce and with a smile he dabbed two drops into the glass. As he continued to prepare the drink, Aria studied the young woman. "I'll make sure to wipe it down more thoroughly next time. I'm terribly sorry." She smelt nothing like the moon, which indicated that she was no werewolf. Her eyes, however, were mingled with something that could only be defined as beast-hood. He was starting to regret chugging that drink, as he was a lightweight. He could feel the flush roll up his cheeks as his extra senses faded. He was left to simple deduction to find out what this woman was.

"Might I ask how long it took you to cake on all of that face paint? I've seen women with literal masks of make-up, but I'm afraid you take the cake. I must say it's very striking." He said as he took a liberty on her drink. Taking both bottles of vodka in hand, he poured them both into the glass with practiced dexterity. After setting both bottles down in their respective places, Aria scratched his mark and leaded forward onto the bar. The thought of beasts always brought his mind back to the saddening thoughts of hunts. Looking at the custom coasters on the bar which blatantly said "Ye Ole Huntsman" disturbed his attempt at a pleasant Friday. He quickly grabbed a napkin and covered the coaster before placing the glass on both objects. "Is there anything else you need, madam?" Aria said the a bit of a dip in his mood. He attempted a half smile at least for the benefit of the woman.


[System]
Gender: Female
Appearance: Oh, for the love of...!
Age: 21
IGN: Melia
Race: Human
Avatar: I shall not waver.
Equipment: * Hat: Black Ribbon- Just a regular ribbon, except black and made out of silk.
* Clothes: Kosode and Haori- Simple clothes, made by a skilled tailor. These clothes are made of silk, yet do not tear of break easily, if ever.
* Gloves: Leather Armguards- These black leather armguards are durable, though a bit constraining at times. They reach from the wrists to the center of the upper arm.
* Shoes: Open-Toe Boots- Made from the same leather as their matching armguards, these boots are surprisingly unworn, even after their constant usage. One has to wonder what creature could drop such leather in the first place.
* Accessories: A black scarf, folded around the neck. One of only two enchanted items, the scarf passively gives the user resistance to cold.
* Weapon: An enchanted katana, about 75cm (30in) in length. Its ability is to dull slower, thus increasing the longevity thereof until it has to be resharpened.

Level: 99
Skills: * Flash Step C: Move a short distance (read: a few feet) at a near-instantaneous speed. Can collide with this mid-dash.
* Multi-Strike SS: Release 8 consecutive strikes with a weapon over the course of two seconds.
* Willpower C: Passive; resists some mental debuffs (intimidate, confuse, insanity, etc;).
* Katana Mastery SSS: Passive; increases proficiency when using a katana. Also increases damage dealt and attack speed.
* Wind Spirit's Blessing A: Upon use, temporarily increases agility and attack speed. Adds a neat little 'swirling wind' aura at the player's feet.
* Hawkeye D: Increases accuracy. Makes it slightly easier to identify weak points.
* Gravity Shift E: Increases or decreases the force of gravity around the user. At this rank, it can only affect the player and their equipment. Rapidly drains MP if used for more than three minutes, uses it periodically otherwise.
* Discerning Eye B: Can identify more usable materials from the wilderness and from enemies. Can also identify players past some weaker illusion magic.

Personality: From her normally quiet and studious facade comes a thrill-seeking adventurer; having taken up the mantle of her character, Airi has since tried to fully engross herself in the world. Though she may slip every so often back into her old 'work hard, stay quiet, and relax with friends now and then' facade, she's since made a resolution to be more proactive. Not to the point of reckless abandon, mind you, but more outspoken in her thoughts and opinions. Though she may miss her old life every now and then, the excitement of her new one seems to take more priority. After all, who has time to worry about brothers if you've got a giant dragon about to rain hellfire from above?
History: The world of games was no stranger to Airi, who had been surrounded by them for much of her life. With her two older brothers constantly bashing heads over their consoles, Airi found the tried-and-true computer to be more her cup of tea. Communication, after all, was much simpler with a keyboard and mouse than it was with a console's controller. The was by no means enraptured by games; she meant them only as a hobby, one to take up when there was no other story to find elsewhere. Of course, that changed when UE was released.
The level of customization was unlike those she had ever seen; the amount of work the developers had to have put into the game, she reasoned, must have been unreasonably high. And thus she eked out her own character, Melia, and sought to make a story she could call her own.
Many of her friends joined her as well, but as time went on the number seemed to fade away as they found other things to occupy their time. But Airi continued on, shaping her character as she wished. Her longing for adventure was continually realized by the adventures of her character, and that was fine by her. After all, she had her own life to lead.
But then, the two of them were one. What was she to do now?
Pets?: Yes; a single pegasus, yet nameless, obtained a few months ago. Summoned via magic incantation.
Other: Is Japanese-American. Speaks both English and Japanese (relatively) fluently. Likes reading the flavor text and lore just as much as she does playing the game.

[User]
[[A follow up from me and Wolfmaw's post]]

While Lorand had originally planned to go into Araldyne, he quickly changed his mind when he heard the infernal noises inside the city. The place was in a riot, with people running all over the place, screaming their heads off. He would try and calm the other players down, but he doubted that his word would mean much. So he decided that rather than listening to the screams of the collected players for any longer, he'd head to one of his old hang out spots, the small inn outside outside of the west gate of Araldyne, called the Wagon Wheel. The whole reason he hung out there was because it was not a very well-known location, and he could hang out with friends in private or just get some quiet time. He hopped back on Rummahl and swiftly headed toward the inn. When he got there, he simply sat down and ordered a drink from the bartender NPC, who for some reason had a bewildered and surprised look in his eyes. Lorand didn't know why he was looking at him like this, but he simply ignored it and enjoyed his drink.

While drinking, his mind drifted off a bit. He actually thought about what that silly girl Amelia was doing, and if she had actually followed him. However, his thinking was interrupted by a sound coming from right in front of him. It was the bartender, who was garnering for his attention. The man asked "Your name is Lorand, right?". Lorand, more than a little bit shocked, simply answered "Umm... yes. That is my name. But how do you know my name?". The question seemed a little silly, but the fact that the bartender knew his name piqued his curiosity. The bartender responded "Well, you come around here pretty often, so I just happened to pick it up while eavesdropping." Lorand was rather intrigued by the response. This meant that the NPCs had a capacity to remember events before the recent patch. This means that he probably is, all in all, pretty well known by now, considering how he has completed every quest in the game up until the new content. The bar keep left as he was saying the words "Well, enjoy your drink sir." and left Lorand by himself once again. After some more thought about what he had discovered, he decided he would relax in the Wagon Wheel for a little bit.

[Assistant]
Jethro Roranson

---

Marcus had went to bed early the previous night so he could wake up early so he could start the patch download as early as he could. For the first time in a long time he was truly excited about something. He had spent the whole morning prepping snacks and drinks, and scheduling bathroom breaks. He had just finished making queso when he heard the alert on his computer go off that the patch was done downloading. "Holy crap that was huge!" He thought when he saw the size of the file. "No wonder it took so long." Marcus' inner ten year old then laughed at the possible "That's what she said" joke before sitting down and anxiously signing in to his account. He was awestruck at the new layout as he clicked to log into his Level 5 Dwarf, Jethro.

That was then things started to get really really really weird. His office seemed to faze out of existance before his body suddenly felt weightless before everything suddenly went dark. Marcus then opened his eyes as he jolted back into consciousness like waking up from a falling dream. His breath erratic he took in his surroundings. He was sitting on the ground in what seemed like a cave. It what looked to him what the inside of The Killigan Family Mine shaft whould look like if he were actually there, but that was impossible. Wasn't it? He then lifted arms that weren't his, watched fingers move under his command that weren't his, and feel facial features that weren't his. At least they weren't supposed to be his. He then stood on legs that weren't his, and that's when he officially freaked.

"I'M FUCKING JETHRO! WHAT THE HELL!" Screamed the dwarf when he realized how short he was compared to what he used to be. His voice echoing in the cavern causing dust to unsettle and fall from the cave ceiling. In the real world Marcus was a little over six feet tall. Now, Jethro is just barely over four feet tall. Although he is wider, thicker, and heavier than he used to be somehow it all seemed natural. He just couldn't get over how short he was now. That would take some time. So with it all starting to sink in he reached over his right shoulder to grab what he had equpped. If he remembered correctly he was farming ore for a quest and had his pickaxe equipped.

It wasn't there. He could feel the weight of it. but the hilt wasn't there. He looked over his left shoulder. There it was. Did the game seriously take into consideration he was left handed? In fact in the real world Marcus was indeed left handed naturally, but he grew an affinity for being ambidextrous for video games. Scoffing he grabbed the pickaxe and hefted it from it's sheath. Oddly enough it felt right, no, completely natural in his hands. Then he remembered the racial bonuses he took into consideration when he picked his first skills. Dwarves have natural affinity to hammers and because of their ancient history being know as miners have an innate knowledge of the craft.

It was then he had an idea. Stepping up to the node he had last been working on Jethro took a swing at it with his pickaxe. All of a sudden a tune he recognised started playing in his head. It was the tune to the rhythm minigame you played to mine. As it appraoched the first verse a tiny light started to appear on the node pulsing to the beat of the song. When it grew brightest Jethro struck it in time to the tune. He loved rhythm games. It was the second reason he chose mining. So swinging and striking and digging along Jethro bobbed to the beat until it was over and a hologram box popped up in front of him. It startled him at first then he realized, how else would they impliment the menus?

He reached for the box when he remembered the game probably registered him as left handed for the menus too. So he switched hands and opened the box. Another interface appeared reveiling what he dug up. A dozen chunks of iron ore, a few chunks of copper ore, and a small raw piece of quartz. He placed them in his bag then returned his pickaxe to his back. Another prompt appeared that said his quest was complete and gave him directions to who he needed to turn the items in to. Jethro accepted the prompt and it dissapeared. He knew where that was. Warehouse district, Aberlyne. He was nearby. Kiligan Mine was in the foot hills outside the west of town. Finally figuring out how to manully access the menus Jethro switched weapons for just in case he ran into trouble along the way and summoned Twinkle, his boar companion. He pet the young female on the forhead before heading off to the city blissfully unaware of the awaiting chaos.

[User]
Laurel Greenethorne
Location:  Aberlyne

---

Emily was kind of excited, sure she wasn't a huge fan of MMORPGs but this one was interesting, and she couldn't wait to check it out and see if the patch was as awesome as it sounded. Relaxing back into her chair she waited for what felt like hours for the patch to go through. And when it finally did, she waited anxiously as the progress bar loaded.

What happened next, stole the breath right out of her chest.

WHAT?!

She was not in the game, this was not, could not be possible. Breathing deeply, she looked backwards, and sure enough it was the shop she dropped the loot from grinding at. She was Aberlyne. But that was impossible, screaming she fell to her knees. What the hell was going on.

Looking around wildly, she was freaking out. Jumping up she ran out of town and into the nearby forest.

---

Hours later, once she had exhausted her stamina running and fighting, she found herself near some mountains. Not knowing where she was, she fell to the ground in a heap and waited for the world to make sense again.

[Assistant]
Melia
With a pile of wolf corpses at her feet, Melia let out a huge sigh and wiped the few sweat drops that had formed off of her forehead. It was likely just a pack of wolves that had attacked her, but the fact that they were roaming close to the city probably meant that something more was amiss about this whole situation than she entirely anticipated. After Araldyne had moved up from a trading post into a town, players left and right had worked to clear out the area and deal with the mobs as the NPCs did their thing. That also meant setting up guards to patrol the area. So then why...?

"...This is too strange," she said to herself quietly as she flicked the blood off her katana (was there ever blood in the game? She didn't think so...) and sheathed it back into its scabbard before looking around. The chaos in Araldyne seemed like it would persist a while longer, which meant that, more likely than not, she would be better off looking elsewhere for the moment for relatively-calm people.

"Now, where could I go for that, though...?"

Pulling up the minimap with a few motions of her hand, Melia glanced at the area from above. She was just outside the western gate, which was a few miles off from the base of Rolu Mountain. The journey would take a while, and since she wasn't sure if this was a 'death game' or not, decided against heading there straight away. After all, throwing her life away in a situation like that would be... Incredibly stupid.

Off to the side, though, there was one location that piqued her interest; that little inn, the 'Wagon Wheel' or whatever it was called. If there was any place just as reliable to gather information from in RPGs when compared to bars, it'd have to be inns. Of course, that was assuming the NPCs didn't just spew stock phrases in her face, but at this point she'd take all the knowledge she could get.

---

The walk over had taken about fifteen minutes, mainly because Melia had figured out how to use her 'Flash Step' skill after the first ten attempts or so had resulted with her face-first in the ground (thank GOD nobody was watching). The inn, rustic as it was, seemed to be relatively lively even at this hour. Whether it was from panic or actual joviality, well... She'd find out soon enough.

Carefully opening the door, Melia was relieved to find that the inn/bar (how convenient! Two bird with one stone!) was simply lively. Though most of the people there seemed to be NPCs given their clothing of choice, there was one person that caught her attention; she had seen him many a time on the various endgame raids during her last few months of play. Swiftly moving to take a seat near him, Melia flagged down the barkeep for a simple cup of water with ice before turning to the man clad in armor. Though she usually wasn't one to be proactive, now was a good a time as ever to start.

"...Lorand, right?" she asked, looking him over. "That armor seems... A lot more intimidating in person."