[System]
Age: 10K

Legion/Warband/Chapter: Thousand Sons

Planet of Origin: Prospero

Physical Description: Sanakhet is a tall chaos marine, made to appear taller with the reaching twin horns of his headdress-helm. He is however slightly less wide, matching a slight deficit in raw physical strength, a small sacrifice worthy of greater power. His armor is a dark night-sky blue with golden trim, ornate with arcane markings and fierce-looking detail. A vaguely tattered white robe flows downward behind him over his powerarmor, belted at his waist, contiguous with a collar and long lapels in front. It bears in blue the mark of the Magnus' eye and flames.

Skillset:

Main power: Premonition/Precognition - Sanakhet can predict an enemy's strategies prior to engagement on the battlefield, giving his forces a similar edge to having inside information. Using his powers, he can see immediate event just before they happen, allowing him to perform extraordinary feats in combat such as moving through an enemy barrage unharmed or executing precision attacks with bolter or blade in the most complex circumstances.

Other common uses of warp sorcery:
Psychic communication over short distances.
Reading simple minds.
Limited telekinesis. A telekinetic shield able to withstand limited bombardment.
Biologic manipulation such as lightning, stopping hearts, causing seizures or paralysis, causing sleep, limited healing/stasis.

History: Sanakhet was recruited into the Thousand Sons legion after it was united with their primarch on Prospero during the height of the crusades, but before the Thousand Sons were permitted to participate in the conquering of worlds for the Imperium. He stood witness to everything that happened to his legion, his people, and his world, and was ripped away from the materium against his will like the rest of his unfortunate bretheren after the scouring of the planet by the Space Wolves. Many were confused and felt betrayed by their primarch, Magnus. Sanakhet rallied with Ahriman and assisted in casting the Rubric that obliterated the suffering of, as well as identity of, the rest of the damned legion. For their transgression, he was banished by Magnus, along with the rest of the sorcerers involved to become Ahriman's Prodigal Sons who move on defiantly regardless, carving their own destiny in the warp. Many planets were conquered in their own quest for knowledge and power, and their ostricized legion grew. Eventually, after barely failing to penetrate the Black Library of the Eldar, Magnus and Ahriman made some degree of amends and joined their forces during the 13th Black Crusade. They utterly wrecked the Fenris system, but some thrallbands were absent from the focus of the war, instead being assigned to reclaim worlds near old Prospero. Sanakhet was there, his thrallband batteling the Imperium directly on-world. The Thousand Sons were anything but great in number, and although it was difficult to deal with their power, Sanakhet's forces were routed. Furious with his failure and loss of precious comrads, Sanakhet used warp magic to escape and ends up meeting the other characters elsewhere. He still intends to continue his mission of purging the Prospero system.

Psychological Profile: Sanakhet can neither be described as good nor evil, noble or corrupt. Surely he is perfused with warp energy and bound to serve Tzeentch, but serving any forces of chaos had never been his intention. He trusts no one, save Ahriman, yet cannot deny a reluctant bond to his original gene-father. Like them, he seeks to understand truth and chaos and to expand his power and will sacrifice the innocent to do it.

Equipment: A powersword that burns with arcane flames, a bolter-pistol, his mind.

[User]
@Wraithblade6@Ollumhammersong

The face of Vibianus split into a grin beneath his helmet as the plasma engulfed the Sorcerer, but whatever hope he had had of the Thousand Sons demise was swiftly dashed, his face twisting then into an unsatisfied grimace when Sanakhet not only survived but even worse seemed quite unharmed. Chaos was fickle indeed, and none more fickle than the Changer of Ways, and while inside of himself the child of the Emperor was seething with annoyance on the outside he silently moved through the Black Legionnaires and toward the Thunderhawk once more.

A gold-trimmed warrior of Abaddon stepped forth to halt him, swinging at him with his chainsword in an endeavour to hew the warrior in twain. Vibianus stepped inside the swing, hammering the hand-guard of his own weapon repeatedly against the face of his opponents helmet, delivering a swift blow to the inside of the legionnaires leg and decapitating him contemptuous ease; around him the remaining three warriors of his cadre moved in unison with him, heavy calibre bolts blowing apart a legionnaire that was about to disembowel Guroth from behind, all moving forward to secure 'the prize' before these interlopers got the chance.

Mere meters away and overhead the loyalist forces were closing in, companies of enemy Astartes and regiments of Imperial Guard led by officers and commanders determined to wipe out the forces of the Ruinous Powers before they got a chance to escape. If those same followers now converging upon the gunship knew what was good for them – if they wished to survive at least – then they would need to work together to get the Thunderhawk going and into orbit...after that, who knew?

Vibianus knew this, switching to a general vox channel and hoping that the trio of newcomers would listen to sense, "we need this gunship and we need it now! Fight one another when we have fled this débâcle, but for now I suggest that we finish these lapdogs of the so-called Warmaster and get off of this planet."

He and his comrades were nearly into the Thunderhawk, fighting their way up the boarding ramp with grim resoluteness, but they could not take it alone; with three other warriors by their side though...

[Assistant]
Guroth, Ashtor, Sanakhet, and Vibianus all managed to claim the gunship with a majority of Emperor's Children. Sanakhet glared behind his optics but kept his physical actions respectful to the house. As long as Vibianus had his men around him, the Khornite, sorcerer, and Word Bearer were going to have to keep civil.

Dark as a shadow, Sanakhet took up a lone corner on the command bridge of the thunderhawk. His very presence was unnerving, as if some sinister outworld power had claimed him and was watching. He didn't move, but he never took his eyes off Ashtor. Plasma weapons were so unstable, and the temptation to psychically cause the weapon to self destruct was strong. Sanakhet hesitated however, as the resultant explosion could possibly damage the spacecraft, risking their escape.

Sanakhet stood innocently motionless from across the room. He'd blow the gun up later.

Somebody grabbed the controls and the ship lifted off the ground, a few of the third legion manned the defensive weapons and kept any other enemies off them. Sanakhet wasn't going to waste his talents on this duty, mainly because it would involve turning his back on his dubious allies.

Where would they go to now? The gunship wasn't warp capable, and Tzeentch only knew who had naval superiority in the space above. At best, they'd be able to relocate on-world, probably to wherever the damn purple legion was hiding. Sanakhet for whatever reason couldn't see that far into the immediate future. "This is why we are losing." He mused to himself. Nothing was worse than chaos ununited.

[User]
The sorcerer survived. Miraculously so it seemed. That was a complication to be addressed later, but Ashtor ran past him and the others to the boarding ramp of the thunderhawk. "Agreed cousin of Fulgrim! Let us leave." Let the sorcerer burn or seek his revenge later. But he was secure in the short term with his knowledge of flight and the protection of the sons of Fulgrim who needed him alive to make the Thunderhawk do just that. Brushing through the ranks of the pink warriors in his rush to reach the cockpit of the craft.

He dared not let lose more plasma towards the internal confines of the transport less he irreparably damage something important. For that reason he could not risk more bolter rounds to be fired either. So the first Black Legionnaire he could reach found the jagged bayonet of a stolen and corrupted plasma gun jammed towards his chest. "Get me to the cockpit!" he roared as he descended into a duel with the black Legionnaire. A duel he did not plan to fight fairly. Following his momentum of the baynot charge and crashing shoulderlong into the dark warrior. They both slammed into the inner hull of the Thunderhawk with a reverberating thud, Ashtor felt a combat blade bite into the soft armour of his side and focused that lance of pain and the rage it brought forth to fuel his limbs. Grabbing the hand that held the blade his other smashed the body of the plasma gun into his opponents head. Probably doing the finicky coils and complex internals of the weapon no favours. But he continued to pin the warrior against the hull, dropping the plasma gun and scrambling for his own combat knife. It was hard to fumble for a blade while one was imbedded in your own body. Even for an astartes every twist and turn sent waves of pain through him.

Despite the difficulty with wrestling a rival chaos marine one handed Ashtor managed to slip his own blade into the soft armour of his foe. Now it was little more than a free for all as he lost the grip of the legionnaire's knife and they were both locking arms and rolling against the thunderhawk. This exchange went on for what felt like an intollerable amount of time before Ashtor ended it by bashing his helmet into his opponents and driving his blade upward into the neck and brain. The blood that oozed out of the legionnaire was as black as his armour and just as tainted. He could hear it dissolving the combat blade like an acid. He left it lodged in black armoured corpse and ripped the blade stuck in his side out to keep for himself.

'Let the Emperor's children finish the rest' he thought to himself, limping down the thunderhawk to the cockpit. His plasma gun recovered and dangling from his left hand grip while his right held his newest possession, a combat knife bathed in his own unnaturally dark lifeblood. His superhuman immune and recovery systems couldn't fix the damage done to him so quickly.

There was one more legionnaire in the cockpit. Obviously waiting for the fighting to be over so he could lift-off with his brothers and escape this failed invasion. He died far quicker than his brother in the back. Ashtor left him to rot on the floor and took his place in the pilots seat. Sucking his sharpened teeth because of the pain flaring in his side. He didn't really care who was or was not onboard at this point. The warchant of the mechanicus legions was too loud to ignore any longer. Their guns were too close for comfort. "I'm closing the ramp!" It wasn't so much a warning that gave the stragglers notice to rush inside the safety of the adamantium hull as it was a statement that said stragglers were now on their own and likely faced their last few minutes of life.

True to his word the powerful ramp sealed whatever passengers it had inside. It was time to get the fuck off this world.

[Assistant]
The gunship lifted off and the sounds of war began to fade. Several nearby explosions occurred as the enemy took a few last shots at the fleeing vessel. Fortunately, Sanakhet foresaw that none would do any significant damage, and they were escaping with the craft intact.

Now he found himself enclosed with a number of Third Legion, a berzerker, and a wounded Word Bearer. Would he survive THEM would be the next question, and his foresight cut out on that one. Predicting other beings behavior was a bit more complicated than predicting ammunition trajectories, and summoning that kine shield to save his life from a plasma blast had taxed him. Nonetheless, Sanakhet would do everything within his power to survive, even if that meant lying, cheating, stealing, treachery, or submission, for he had gained what he had come to Minoa III for. He had uncovered the ancient Eldar writings and now held one of the keys to an elaborate scheme so deep, not even the god of deceit would see it coming. Sanakhet was one small component in an inside conspiracy the likes of which hadn't been tried since the Blades of Magnus.

But even he didn't know the full depth of it. He couldn't. No one single mind could have contained the entire plan, for it would be too easy for Tzeentch to uncover it that way. No. The mechanisms were spread out in secret, shattered into a million insignificant pieces, all programmed to... destined to... come together at the pinnacle moment, born by the minds that held them.

Treachery had always lurked in Sanakhet's heart, for it was true human nature.

As the realization of safety came over them, each of the traitor marines began to turn their heads toward each other. There were only split seconds left before they all turned on each other, the Emperor's Children being the greatest in number. The sorcerer had to prove his usefulness immediately.

"One of our engines is going to ignite itself before we reach our destination." He broke the tension with a dire announcement. "Unless... One of us must go now to seal a coolant leak, starboard side."

Was the daft exile lying? He could totally be lying.

Sanakhet's helm served his stoic facade as he then turned his head slightly toward Ashtor. "I am capable of healing that wound..." His tone almost belied his grin.


[System]
Age: 31

Gender: Male

Appearance:

Personality: Grek is a naturally nervous and careful, yet sneaky Kobold. Years of being seen as a bit of a runt and a weakling have taken their toll on his self-confidence and as such he's not much of a socialite. However he is not anti-social as such, and will join in a conversation if invited or feels welcome to. He has great admiration for Kobolds who are strong and brave, though he naturally prefers being with Kobolds such as himself, as he has more in common with them, and feels on their level.

In combat he will end to avoid meeting the opponent head-on, instead trying to outflank them and gain any advantage he can, fighting with his brain rather than his brawn

History: Grek was born a sickly child, constantly bullied through his childhood and berated by the adults of his tribe for being, in their words, "A waste of food and shelter" as there was seemingly nothing he wasn't bad at, and no task where he helped more than hindered. He spent many of his first 20 years working in a mine, though he lacked the physical stamina or endurance to last very long before getting too exhausted to work.

The Tribe's leader was under pressure to cast him out, but being fair and kind, decided to see how he would handle trapmaking. Grek immediately took a shine to it, and with very little teaching or training, quickly became the best trapmaker in the tribe, using brains he had always possessed but never had the chance to use.

[User]
Not far from the hillside stood a series of caves. Most led into the hill itself, including one particularly long and smooth-floored tunnel which led down to a tribe of kobolds. Most of the other tunnels were dead ends. In fact, there was only one entrance to the tribe's home cavern, a fact which meant that they could be easily besieged and cut off from the surface if an attacking force were to station itself there. This was unacceptable for the tribe's chief, and he ordered that connecting tunnels be cut to connect the dead end caverns to the main one.

Unfortunately, there was only one kobold fit for such a task. It was him or assign a dozen others to work for weeks. Arjun stood at the end of one of the side tunnels and extended his clawed hands at the wall. Willing his magic to activate, a gout of flame burst from his hands, burning the wall and gradually extending the side tunnel to the main one. Before long, he'd reach the surface, but it would take a few minutes.

[Assistant]
"Of course! That's something that separates a Kobold from a non-kobold. If we ever need to rest, we will either sit on the ground or on a large stone. So, if I make a trap that appears to be a low, bench-like log, an invader would be the only kind of person to sit on it. Then again...I hear some former members of the tribe are returning in the coming days. I should build a non-lethal version if this trap idea, and if they all ignore it, I'll know that even those of us who have adopted other lifestyles will still not even think to use the log as a chair. It's just not in our nature, after all."

---

The test trap was built, and carefully placed besides the path to the caves, at a point where Grek himself personally started to feel in need of rest as he walked from the bottom of the hill to the cave mouth.

Grek had come to the edge of the cover of the forest. The rest of the hill was open, all the way up to the caves. He watched one of his kin exit from a carriage and start to make their way up the hill, but then stopped, and began reading a book to himself.

"I will never understand how the outside world thinks," he thought to himself as he watched impatiently for the Kobold to carry on making progress, but then a guard approached him. Grek cursed to himself. He would continue to wait for now, but he did not want his work to be wasted, and if he had to, he would lure the outsider up the hill himself.

[User]
Something was coming. They were not sure what was going on, but the two creatures in the forest were looking through the bushes with curious eyes. The ground was moving slightly as hooves clattered on the ground. A carriage was bringing someone, or something towards the kobold tribe home. Both creatures sets of eyes narrowed a bit.

As Kimi saw another kobold exit the carriage, she let out a sigh and gently petted Mariki. "Stand down girl... it is not dinner, or anyone that would threaten us." The cat let out a curious purr, and nuzzled up to her mistress. She watched as the other Kobold got out of the carriage and then started to...

"What is he doing? What on Earth is that little one doing?" She stepped out of the forest and gestured to her companion to follow her. They sat down on the edge of the hill and listened for a moment, wondering what was happening.

[Assistant]
Alexius had been preaching for awhile now, but no audience came before him. Honestly, he was beginning to be a little peeved. He was standing here, throwing salvation at their ears, yet they don't even take a second to hear it! Hold on, there's someone coming. An fellow armed with a spear. "Oi! Who goes there, and what's your business?" he shouts. Finally, at least someone is listening.

"Do you have a moment to speak of our Gods?" Alexius asks, trying not to think about the spear's point. "What's your name? What faith do you believe in?" In his head though, he was really just hoping that the spear is kept pointing away from him.

[User]
Arjun finished burning through the tunnel and could see daylight on the surface. His eyes were stung by the brightness of the sun at first, but he adjusted after a few minutes.

"Do you have a moment to speak of our Gods?" He heard a voice that he hadn't heard in a long time. Padding his way up and out of the cave, Arjun stepped onto the soft dirt and looked straight ahead, recognizing the sight and scent of the newcomer.

"Kutur? Is it really you?"

[Assistant]
Gruul rested the spear at his side. This stranger was certainly an odd one, but he seemed rather harmless. And he was a kobold, so not that much of an outsider, at least by his reckoning.

"My name is Gruul, and my faith is my own to hold. But if you're going to preach here, you'd best talk it over with the Chief."

In truth, Gruul was quite devoted to the Holy Mother, Tiamat, but getting into a theological debate was not something he wanted to do.

"Come on then, best bring you to-"

"Kutur? Is it really you?"

He was interrupted by Arjun popping out of a fresh hole in the hillside, and decided to just take a step back and see what played out.

[User] ". . . Arjun?" Alexius called, closing the book with a dull thump. He left the spearman to his devices, and approached the hole to get a closer look. "Arjun!" he shouted, recognizing the face. He rushed over to the hole. Arjun was covered in muck, some liquified and dripping down his face. Alexius offers his hand to pull him up. "You would not believe the things I've seen away from home. Absence is only a couple dozen Dragontails that way, further is Constantsea, and the buildings there are huge! There was this one you see . . ." he said, beginning to ramble. He had already forgotten about the spearman.

[Assistant]
Another kobold arrived, and this one seemed to be his friend. Grek signed in resignation. He'd better go and retrieve the trap and try again later. Besides, this design was relying too much on chance. There had to be a more obvious way to sort the walking habits of the kobold from those of other races.

He began to make his way out of the cover of the forest, still deep in thought and not really looking where he was going. As he covered the crest of the hill, he immediately saw another kobold with their back to him, with a cat-like creature by their side. He cursed as he tried to stop himself but slipped on the dewey grass and slid down straight into her back.

His first thought was "Well, looks like I'm going to get beaten up again..." and he closed his eyes and braced himself.

[User]
Arjun wiped some of the rock from his face. It had been liquefied by the heat he had generated, and he was indeed stained by it.

"Wha-? Oh, Alexius" he extended a clawed hand as his friend helped him up. "Thanks for the hand. Glad to see you again. Tribe's still the same as before. You haven't missed much. Workers still working hard. Mines still full of metal. Most of us still live in caves. I got myself a hut though. So, I assume you've seen that they have privacy up here, in the surface. Never been to Absence or Constantsea myself."

[Assistant]
Kimi had been content on being ignored for the first few moments as it seemed that Arjun knew the other kobold that was ranting at them. She shrugged a bit as she watched them and then was distracted by another kobold slam into her back. She nearly fell over and turned to look at him. "Oye, don't you watch where you're going?" She said.

Her companion hissed at the other kobold but Kimi held out her hand. "Calm yourself Mariki... it was an accident. I'm sure if he was trying to kill me he would have done a better job than just ram into me." She stood up and dusted herself off and then stood up and looked at Arjun and Alexius. "So what is even going on here today?" She said, noticing that this one Kobold had apparently drawn so many people out that day.

[User]
Grek scrambled to his feet, grateful for being spared a beating or mauling, though still cautious about the...pet...?

"I'm really sorry. Couldn't see you over the top of the hill. Are you okay?" The weak-looking bag of bones of a kobold muttered nervously. He watched on as she calmed her companion down, waiting patiently, and glad the focus was partly off him, even temporarily. He wasn't comfortable being the centre of attention at the best of times, and that went double if he'd just made a mistake.

The kobold's attention had returned to the newcomer. He looked down at the scene as well. "Well, there was a rumour that an old member of the tribe was returning today. Still, I was expecting some kind of seasoned travelling warrior or mercenary, not....a door to door preacher."

[Assistant] Arjun turned to Grek and Kimi. "Is it just me, or did we all just happen to show up at the same place at the same time" he said, speaking loudly enough for all to hear. "For those who don't know, Alexius and I are friends. You might have heard of him by the name 'Kutur', but I'll let him explain more about that. And before I forget to mention it, nobody is going to beat anybody right now." He let out a small stream of flame rise out of the palm of his right hand for just a moment.

[User]
Suddenly, a loud crash, followed by muffled conversation, resonated through the area. Alexius mentally kicked himself. Stupid, stupid! Of course, with every newcomer there was probably three tribesmen stalking him!

"There, see?" he called towards the general direction of the noise. "You can come out now!" Secretly, he was feeling a little giddy. Four people listened to his preaching! That was a new personal record, if you don't count the time he fed a kennel of wargs while praying not to die.

[Assistant] "I'm here! Don't have to yell, Kutur. Gotta calm down a bit" Arjun replied, stepping up to Alexius, who had been known to Arjun as Kutur. "Just be careful with what you say. I'm not sure our shaman would appreciate all of your words."

[User]
Grek flinched a little from Arjun's little pyrotechnics display. He was not keen on getting threatened, but conversation resumed, again focused on the strange returning Kobold.

Grek crossed his arms. "I'm not sure half the tribe would appreciate it, honestly. Religion...Nothing but trouble if you ask me. Look at him, prattling on. I'm listening to what he's saying, but even if none of us were, I don't think he'd notice. He'd just carry on..."

[Assistant] "Did I startle you? Sorry." Arjun extinguished his flames. "Grek, is it? Well, I assure you, Kutur here is harmless. At least to his fellow kobolds. Not sure why he's dressed so heavily, but they do things differently on the surface. He seems to have picked up surfacer habits." He briefly stood on one foot, raising his other leg to gently scratch his right sole before setting it down on the soft ground again.

[User]
Alexius most certainly didn't want to see the chief. He was large and well spoken, and likely won't be defeated by healing his scars. His only option now was to try and stall everyone until they forget what they wanted to do. Which is good, because he was good at stalling.

"Umm, well if no one's going to convert today, then guess I'll try tomorrow. Whoo, traveling's no easy task. So is my cave still here?" He looked around for his cave, which he remembered he took because it was far away from the new mine complex.

[Assistant] "The caves are still here, although we've excavated more since you left and even built a few huts with sticks and dried grass taken down from the surface" Arjun explained. "The shrine is still there and our shaman's still tending it, as he was before. Oh, and before I forget to mention it, I doubt you'll win many converts. Most of us don't trust those who dress like humans, but I don't really care how you dress, as long as you don't put clothes on your feet. That's just too weird."


[System]
R A N K

Greenband

A P P E A R A N C E

Athelstan is a simple mouse with a simple, albeit taller and brawnier, appearance. The lowborn's fur is a youthful champagne, though it can appear a brown-gray at times. In terms of disfigurements, claw marks protrude across his neck, a single mark from a squirrel's spear runs from the edge of his left brow to the base of his left ear, and faded wounds from the lashings he received as a "guest" of the Cottonmouth stockades are prevalent on his appearance. Athelstan isn't particularly handsome, but he is not homely. In terms of attire he wears a simple midnight gray cloak to keep himself warm though he knows if he passes his trials it will be replaced.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

For most of his life, Athelstan has been kicked around by those who were bigger and stronger than him in both status and stature; an odd thing to imagine considering the tall and brawny mouse Athelstan has become following his ascent through maturity. As a result, Athelstan likens himself as a denier of bullies and thugs whether they wear rags or finery. In fact, this disdain has cultivated a personality of opposition and defiance that has more often than not got Athelstan into trouble with his betters and peers alike. But despite often conflicting with others through his challenging and rough personality, Athelstan believes in the rights of everymouse and strongly holds beliefs that the idea that mice are inherently meek cowards is a social construct that holds little truth; for him cowardice is only encouraged through this reoccurring statement. His rejection of this fact has made him consider training to become a guard or seeking out things as an adventurer; though he often holds himself back to his love for his kin.

Or at least, until the squirrel raid on Cottonmouth a few months ago. Driven to be the best mouse possible, Athelstan made a decision following the loss of his oldest friend, Oskar, has embittered Athelstan to the existence of the squirrel-folk and has sworn an oath of vengeance. Joining the Redwatch seems to serve this purpose for him, though he does respect it as an honorable order of brave mice.

A T T R I B U T E S

STR - 18
Athelstan has had a lifetime to become one of the toughest mice in Cottonmouth. He's been trained as a blacksmith and he's probably been in more brawls than is sensible.
CON - 10
Athelstan is young and has a decent constitution, but nothing too hardy.
DEX - 10
Athelstan is as quick as any other mouse of relative age and size.
CHA - 7
Athelstan is blunt and says how he feels. People tend to think he's too standoffish and too uppity for his class.
INT - 8
Athelstan is a bit smarter than the peasants and simplefolk, but his intelligence is limited to his family's craft. You could fool him with effort.
LUC - 7
Athelstan isn't lucky, but he isn't cursed. He once slipped on a bar of soap in the middle of a brawl.

E Q U I P M E N T

Heater Shield (2): A decently made shield; shaped in the form of a reuleaux triangle. Can take a beating.

Claw Sword (3): A well-crafted arming sword variant with a clawblade forged onto the pommel. Forged by Athel himself.

T R A I T S

Confrontational: Athelstan is known for using his fists before using his brain and due to this is at disadvantage (-2) with diplomatic solutions and bargaining.

Coquettish: Despite being average in appearance, Athelstan has a friendly and approachable aura. This has resulted in him being received well by the fairer sex. +2 to interactions with female and jovial mice.

Simple: Due to being part of the smallfolk, Athelstan suffers disadvantage (-2) on checks relating to knowledge beyond his profession and birthplace.

Tall: Athelstan is relatively taller than his brood and stands out in a crowd. Due to this fact he is stronger and more imposing as such he receives +2 to strength-based and intimidation-based checks.

T R A D E

Artisan. Athelstan's kin have served as blacksmiths and jewelcrafts for many generations.

F R I E N D

Hans of Cottonmouth: The owner of the largest tavern in Cottonmouth and a longstanding family friend. His son (and Athelstan's closest friend), Oskar, died in the squirrel attack that occurred a few months ago. Should Athelstan return to Cottonmouth he will always have a bed and ale waiting for him at The Lying Wolverine Innhouse & Tavern.

E N E M Y

Klaus of Cottonmouth: The son of the Earl of Cottonmouth, and a distasteful rival of Athelstan's due to the disapproving relationship between Athelstan and his sister, Beatrix. Once got into a hefty brawl with Athelstan and lost, though it did cost Athelstan a fortnight in the stockades to which the rowdy young mouse remarked that "it was worth it". Despite this fact, Klaus does not see Athelstan as his enemy and will seek to merely inconvenience Athelstan if they are to meet.

H I S T O R Y

Athelstan's life leading up to his recruitment was relatively simple—the youngest son of an iconic blacksmith father and a meek tailor mother, Athelstan took life in Cottonmouth with fleets of fantasy. When Cottonmouth survived a raid by a warband of squirrels he decided the best way to serve his family was to join the Redwatch so it would never happen again.

[User]
Two different mice stood in the courtyard, although they were of the same blood. One was standing with the greenbands who hadn't fled, one foot on the head of a tremendous warhammer, standing a touch above everyone else in the courtyard. Her fur almost shimmered in the dull light, copper fur shifting around as she shifted the weight from her gambeson from one shoulder to the other. Compared to the other recruits, she looked overdressed and over-equipped, but she wasn't about to enter the redguard without having anything to her name. She would have preferred some gauntlets as well- and almost certainly a helmet, but she supposed this would have to do for now. Not like anyone else had anything better.

When the... She supposed he was a Watch Captain? He certainly held himself like that- like he knew how to fight, and even though his body has forgotten, his brain still remembered. He seemed like the kind of person that in his youth could have picked up a sword and felt at home with it. Not that that mattered now. She doubted he could still sprint, let alone fight a gnasher.

She wasn't intimidated though. There was a black mark over her heart. Dying in a den was never going to be her fate. Kicking the warhammer's head up and swinging it at the same time, she used the momentum to brace it over her shoulder and began following him, looking back at the other recruits as if to ask them if they were coming.

---

Meanwhile, Myrtle was laying out the plan to Flint.

"It'ld dus be us dis time. 'Parrently we'll be ge'ting a greenie after dis, but dey still need to go t'rough de trial. We'll be going af'er a badger, so bring your nastiest stuff. I know you like your 'on'o'tions. A few bombs wou'n't hurt, and someting dat would cause him to run or be distra'ted. Maybe some kind of flash-y, bang-y ting, or chilli maybe. We need to go tout do, so don't dilly too long on this."

[Assistant]
Oliver looked over his shoulder as small groups of mice began to leave the courtyard- following the older watchmouse who addressed them. The idea of a bloody death didn't sit well with most mice, Oliver included, and not least of all including those who turned tail and left. Oliver himself stood his ground, surprisingly enough, his paws grasping tightly at the strap of the satchel over his shoulder, and breathing deeply to help steel himself. Another day, Oliver probably would have left as well. He never proclaimed himself to be a particularly stout or lion-hearted mouse, and a couple of the other recruits, fully expecting him to turn off and run sneered at him when they saw he didn't.

Oly glanced around at the other watchmice who stood, staring them down, and found himself making eye contact with Aran Badgerslayer, whom, despite having his arm in a sling, stood as tall and as proud as the rest of the watchmice. The veteran watchguard nodded subtly, but approvingly, and Oly felt more confident in his decision to stay- if only slightly.

Returning his attention to the head watchmouse, the aging mouse beckoned for them to follow him, saying that it was time for them to take the trials- whatever they were. Oly and a few of the other mice looked at each other, nervous. The mouse standing next to him gestured forward with his head, implying that Oly should walk first. Oly shook his head and did a similar gesture, indicating that that mouse should go first instead. Despite the silent arguing, it would appear that it didn't matter which of the two went forward before the other, as another mouse decided to take the lead.

A female mouse, a good bit taller than Oly and many of the other mice in the courtyard walked forward first. She wore a gambeson and balanced a warhammer over her shoulder- two bits of equipment more than almost every other mouse in the courtyard. Were they supposed to bring their own weapons, Oly wondered. He had never really held a sword before- outside of his childhood days where him and his brothers would run around with sticks, whacking eachother. The other recruits watched her in a sort of stunned stupor before she turned again, looking at them as if beckoning them to follow.

Oly took a deep gulp and forced himself to step forward. The mouse standing next to him took a deep breath and followed a second later. A general shuffle of footsteps behind them indicated that a few more had began to follow.

[User]
As the last of the Greenbands entered the fort, the Watchmice shepherding them followed steadily, metal doors slamming behind them with an eerie finality. The hall they walked was brightly lit on either side with torches, reflecting light off of the many shields, axes, and swords displayed on the walls between tapestries and portraits of Redfield's past monarchs. All around them, Watchmice scurried between halls and doorways, as if every mouse present was late. Some hurriedly made their way through the halls single file, carrying cauldrons of stew or trays of bread, while some slowly carried construction materials or stretchers of the infirmed in groups of two. The Redfort buzzed with sights and sounds of work, which appeared fairly routine to the Greenbands. Despite the cacophony of entire armies of mice trotting up and down the halls, none of the Watchmice surrounding them seemed like there was anything out of the ordinary. The greywhisker leading their group seemed less formal than he did during his speech, trotting along with his walking stick at a smoother cadence, waddling to and fro as he discussed some private matter to the ear of a Watcher beside him. The Watcher nodded, and without missing a beat, turned the next corner and broke off from the group of Greenbands.

Eventually, the old Watchmouse led them to a door, dismissing the rest of the Watchers with a clenched fist in the air, signalling them to scatter themselves down different hallways, marching to some other obligation.

"First thing's first. There'll be no talking while I'm talking, so shut the hell up." The Watchmouse said to the crowd of silent Greenbands. He unlocked the door, opening it to reveal an empty room -- no tapestries or swords adorned its walls, or anything else for that matter. On one end of the room was a set of wooden double doors, with two mice stationed at either side. In front of them was a large crank built into the floor like a millstone, and in the center of the room, a pile of weapons and armor.

"Those of you who weren't dropped off with pappy's sword and a kiss on the cheek should arm yourself here." The old Watchmouse said, making his way to the double doors with a steady tap of his cane. "If you fight over a sword, fight with your hands. You don't want to start the trials with a gash, believe me." He chuckled softly. Reaching the double doors, he swung them open to reveal not a room, but a wooden platform. If the Greenbands had seen an elevator, they would know what it was, though there were still only two of its kind in Gnaw.

"When you're done, come over here, and don't dilly-dally."

[Assistant]
A t h e l s t a nGreenband Recruit - Hall of Trials

---

I'm sure glad I came here prepared. Can't imagine sortin' through a pile of rubbish weapons with dozens of oth'rs would feel very fun. Then again, ain't here to have fun much; here to join and serve the watch so shite like that raid back home don't happen to anymouse if I can help it. Fuck'n take a lot more than harsh words and a pointed glare to get me to turn tail. I ain't no coward. I ain't.

Athelstan of Cottonmouth's rightmost paw moved to the harness that held his clawed sword in place. As confident as he may have been, he would be lying to himself if he tried to make the claim that he wasn't anxious or nervous. But after witnessing squirrels drop down from the sky and slit the necks of the good people of Cottonmouth, he was absolutely certain that whatever he saw and had to contend with in the trials wouldn't faze him. But given by the step of the senior watchmouse and the look of the strange platform Athelstan wasn't sure to make of anything. Was it some sort of battle circle? A trapdoor that would drop them into some sort of gauntlet? It was hard to guess given his lack of experience with fancy things designed by builders and masons. He wasn't smart with such things, but when it came to iron and steel, anvil and hammer, cloth and needle? That was something he knew.

He moved closer to the platform and the senior watchmouse. He gave him a respectful nod. "Ser."

The initiative in being ready was one thing he had over the brood of recruits… well, outside of a girl that held a hammer with confidence; a hammer that appeared masterwork in design. Athelstan wasn't sure if the girl or the hammer interested him more. He didn't allow himself to be distracted by the thought however and kept his attention to the senior watchmouse.

"I'm ready."


[System]
W I L L O W

---

BASIC INFO

---
Age: 18

Year: Senior

Gender: Female
APPEARANCE:

---

Height: 5'7

Weight: 71 lbs

Skin Color: White. Literal white.

Physical Description: A pale ghost of a girl. Average height, thin build. No meat or muscles at all. Skin and hair, all colorless. Big eyes, white like her skin, save the pupils and pitch black sclera. Button nose, thin lips, wavy hair going down to her neck.

Clothing: Dark tops. Dark pants. Lots of grays and navy blues. Never anything too bright. Likes big coats with fur on them. The kind old ladies would wear.

Voice: Soft. Quiet. Weak, almost. When she's a ghost, it has an echo to it.
PERSONALITY:

---

Character Traits: Silent and observant. Strange in the eyes of strangers. Always has a smile on her face. Perfectly content with being alone, but doesn't scorn companionship. Seldom the one who speaks to someone else first. Talks sparingly, but with kind words - if at times, odd words. Blunt statements. Flowery language comes out when she likes someone.

Bad parts. Curious. Too curious, sometimes. Explores places she's not supposed to explore. Thinks she can't be touched. Ghosts everything. Doesn't take dangerous things seriously. Lacks long-term goals. No aspirations - just living in the moment.

Bonds: Seeing the world and the people in it. Spending a little bit of time with friends. Helping her father around the workplace. Small things.

Activities: Writing. Drawing. She has a little journal full of short stories, poems, and sketches. Loves to craft with the antiques at home, sometimes reads some of the old books too. Goes shopping for new coats every now and then. Explores abandoned, condemned, or otherwise unoccupied unoccupied buildings.

Skills: Artsy things. The written word. Pencil sketches. Good at cleaning and sorting the antiques at home. Picked up a knack for staying out of sight when she wants to.
BACKSTORY

---

Backstory: A man and a woman - Lloyd and Esther Dendry - had a child eighteen years ago, after the great light shone over Leesburgh.

Abnormalities in the pregnancy, right away. Couldn't see her in the ultrasound. Pressure fluctuations in the mother's womb. Couldn't have guessed the baby girl would float freely out of it, see-through. Her skin all white, her cries all echoing. Suddenly she solidifies, drops to the floor - a doctor catches her.

Father always loved the strange and supernatural. Excited for what was happening. Mother feared it. Fear quickly turned to hate with the new wave of eventful births around town. Babies born floating. Crackling with electricity. Scales and tails.

Willow's mother couldn't show any love to her. Got mad at her. Threatened to hurt her, and other children too. Lashed out at her husband. Said she wanted it to stop. Said she was afraid of them all. Swung a knife around one night, got taken away after that. Spent a few years locked up. Found dead in her room one morning. Aneurysm.

Willow was only three during the funeral.

Life went on. Willow got older. Learned to shift back and forth freely. Helped her father around the Rustic Palace. Developed a love of antiques and creativity. Moved into the shop when the house got sold. Went to school. Feared the bullies, kids and grown-ups, throwing stones at her. Learned to ghost the stones and stopped being afraid. Let all the dangers of the world pass right through her. Let nasty words go ignored.

Stopped thinking about her mother.

Started to smile again.
POWERS:

---

Description: Incorporeality. The power to become intangible, weightless, translucent. Can fly freely through the air. Pass through solid matter. Takes her clothes and small possessions with her into the ether. Gives people shivers when she passes through them, like a cold specter.

When physical, she's floaty. Jumps higher than others. Falls slower. Gravity is kinder to her.

Limitations: Ghosting takes energy. Can't stay intangible forever. One hour, no breaks, before passing out. Can't be asleep and intangible at the same time. Can't shift back to tangible if she's still caught in something, even by a toe.

Weaknesses: Heat. Fire. High temperatures. Disrupts the shifting process. Forces her back to corporeality.

Other Information: Nothing for now.
SCHOOLING

---

Favorite Subject: Fine Art 3.

Least-Favorite Subject: Science.

Grades: As in art and literature. Bs and (mostly) Cs make up the rest. Not the best student.

Embarrassing Moment: Sophomore year. Shifting through the school. Accidentally found herself in the boys' locker room during senior gym class. Lots of looks. Took her a moment to flee. Only time anyone's ever seen her blush.

[User]
Elle Miller

---

It was only a few minutes until the bell, but the students of Mr. Franklin's last U.S. History class of the day were already packing their bags. Elle was among them, but she still listened as he half-heartedly announced that they'd have the weekend to do the worksheet he provided not ten minutes prior. Most of the class hadn't even given the worksheet a second thought, but Elle was now sticking the already completed assignment into a folder for safe keeping. This class was nothing short of boring to her. Mr. Franklin was the type to cover the entire syllabus, but with as little enthusiasm as possible. The most energy she'd seen come from the man was when he went into tangents about what  "really" happened in history instead of the sugar-coated, American loving version of events. At this point Elle showed to the class for the grade and not for the teacher himself.

As the announcement began Elle chose to sit back in her seat and stare out of the window. The three day weekend wasn't that thrilling after only one week of school, but she was looking forward to the quiet at the house. Pete, her step-dad, and her mother were going on a weekend trip out of town for the holiday. This meant that Elle could come and go from the house as much as she pleased without any judgement or harassment. She was excited to have the house to herself, even if she wasn't going to spend much time there. She just had to hope that Pete left some money for food on the table and forgot to lock up her mom's stash of liquor. That's all she needed from them, really. She wasn't even going to bother with seeing them before they left today. In fact, she was pretty sure that Pete mentioned he was leaving work early today to get started on their drive. They were most likely out of town by now. Elle felt like a weight had lifted from her shoulders at that thought. A weekend without Pete, and a weekend without her mother's inebriated behavior.

This thought was already out of her mind as she stepped into the hallway. Elle slipped through the bustling hall without much notice. The perks of being a small fry, she assumed. As she approached her locker she heard some girls talking about Rad-Chad's birthday party on Sunday night. Elle reached for her skateboard as she listened. It didn't sound like the company at the party would be worth anything, but all Elle really heard about it was that there would be free food and drinks. Which meant that it would be a perfect way to spend her Sunday night. She knew little about Chad himself, but she did know that there was always something going on at his parties that made them worthwhile. With that decision made, Elle tucked her board under her arm and made her way out of the front doors.

As she stepped outside Elle took a moment to observe the chaos in the parking lot. She took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air and had a moment of peace within the gentle breeze of the day. Her shoulders went slack and she closed her eyes briefly. She could feel the warmth of the sun against her cheeks. Something about the day just seemed… oddly too perfect. Elle opened her eyes again and turned towards the source of the breeze. She then glimpsed none other than Evelyn Noblezada walking past. Of course. Elle thought with a small smirk. While Evelyn's aura made her feel like a new person, giddy and excited to be alive, Elle knew better than to act on those impulses with Evelyn around. She wasn't as susceptible to Evelyn's charm as the rest of the student body, despite the girl's alluring power. Evelyn was a charming snake and Elle knew to take her seriously. Before she could be consumed by Evelyn's energy, Elle turned and left the zone of surrealness to head towards home. She knew she was out of Evelyn's range as soon as sobriety hit her like a breath of fresh September air.

Elle took advantage of the lingering energy from Evelyn's passing and decided to take the long way home on her skateboard. Not before sticking her headphones in her ears and hitting shuffle on her shitty little black iPod nano. The music began to play, and Elle took to her board down the streets of Leesburgh.

[Assistant]
---

H E L E N

---

Helen jumped as Willow's ghostly-pale face appeared through the car door. All these years of friendship and that still freaked her out sometimes. Helen laughed it off and put on her seat belt as Willow got situated. It took a minute to get Doug going, but after several key turns and the sound of a smoker coughing into a megaphone, the car sprung to life. WLEE, the local radio station, was playing Superbass Nicki Minaj. Helen turned the song up and wound down the windows. Slowly, she waited her turn in the line of cars that mobbed their way out of the parking lot: a Honda, two Toyotas, Chad Charles' obnoxiously yellow BMW. Eventually, Doug groaned its way out of the parking space and into line.

"How are you doing love?" Helen asked Willow as they sat in the traffic. B.O.B's musical stylings still floated through the air from the back of a Jeep Wrangler that no less than seven members of the soccer team had packed into.

As Helen drove out of the parking lot, she felt a warm breeze flow in through the window, despite the autumn chill. She saw the source up ahead: standing by the side of the road was Evelyn Noblezada. 'That bitch, Helen thought, afraid that if she said it out loud Evelyn would hear. Nobody needed a primer on reasons to dislike Evelyn- she had made Helen cry a minimum of three times just in the sixth grade, and this was actually a little below average for tween girls at Moore Middle School. Poor Kelly ended up spending lunch in the bathroom every day out of fear of running into Evelyn at the lunch table.

The worst part about Evelyn Noblezada, though, was that Helen couldn't stop looking at her. She was just so...hot: stupid perfect makeup, stupid smooth caramel skin, stupid pretty eyes, stupid toned soccer legs that Helen would love nothing more than to...

There was a shout. Helen instinctually slammed on the brakes. Her eyes shot up to see that she had come within inches of hitting Letitia Green. Doug's bumper was hanging over the edge of the sidewalk and a conga line of traffic was piling up behind it. Helen's eyes opened wide as dinner plates.

"Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod I'm so sorry Tish!" she yelled through the open window.

"Dude, fucking look where you're going!" the surprisingly tall and muscular Letitia said. Her face was more shock and fear than anger. Her green skin was covered in a sheen of cold sweat and her chest heaved with adrenaline. As Letitia grabbed her backpack (which she'd dropped in the panic), she kicked out at Doug, striking the bumper and leaving a Size 13 dent. Then she stomped past and off into the parking lot. Helen blinked hard. She slowly reversed the car and then drove off down the bus loop and onto Gaiman Street, her skin even paler than normal and her eyes wide open and glued to the road.

"Uh...sorry about that," she said to Willow.


[System]
Alias: Zerker
Age: 23
Appearance: Clicky
Weight: 120lbs
Height: 5'3"
Gender: Male
Country of Origin: Germany
Occupation: Research Division - Kitchen Duty/Assistant

To fight monsters, we create monsters of our own.

[User]
Angelo grinned as he was flown to the shatter dome in Hong Kong and in all honesty the one thing Angelo was worried about was that people would talk behind his back in a language he couldn't understand but thankfully if none of them knew Spanish Angelo could do the same. Angelo's leg was jittering like crazy and Angelo was really excited this would be his first run to find someone compatible with him to fight in a jager and he knew that this would be important but Angelo had ADHD and as a result was having a hard time staying completely still, it was one of the reasons he was such a good engineer. Angelo would do the job right and he could do it fast even when he had times when he was angry back in Spain they were lacks in the simulation area and Angelo was always able to get a few times a month in the simulator to blow off steam and practice he lost track of how many times he actually got in and killed since he lost track at around 30 drops and 29 kills only missing once because it was his first time but the one time he got caught he was actually told he had a talent for it and was going to be sent to Hong Kong to find someone to go into the drift with.

Angelo smiled grabbing his backpack and his tool box that his father gave him a long time ago when they finally landed Angelo simply followed behind the legend Mako herself Angelo was a little star struck at first but knowing that she was just going to be their tour guide for the moment really helped him calm down. Angelo then followed her to the elevator as she explained what they would be doing and Angelo had wondered how he would fair against his opponent....

[Assistant]
Jack had mostly slept on his trip from Anchorage to Hong Kong. He guessed that he would be the youngest member there when they finally arrived. Even though he was rather young, Jack had been stationed in the Anchorage Shatterdome as an engineer like his father had been. He had enjoyed the job but had definitely wanted to take the fight a bit closer than his father had wanted him to. So he had to go behind the other man's back to start training on the simulator and begin combat training from a former Marine. In his 20 drops he had managed to get 18 kills. The first one was because he was new to the whole thing and the second one was because he was distracted. It was that drop that his father had finally learned why Jack was always late for his shifts. It took a good deal of negotiation but the old man decided to allow his son to keep training. Eventually Jack got tapped to go to the Hong Kong Shatterdome to get a drift partner. Jack liked to think he was a decent fighter. He could handle himself in a fight with people or Kaiju.

Jack got off the chopper and stood there waiting to be acknowledged. He had been trained to basically be a soldier even though he had never been in an army. He stood as still as a statue even as the snow landed on his head. He was born and raised in Alaska. He was use to running barefoot in the snow to toughen him up. So a snowstorm in Hong Kong did not phase him at all. He waited until he was told that they were going inside.

[User]
There was something about helicopter travel that simply didn't agree with Cameron's stomach. Three times now since he had stepped on this infernal machine, he had chucked his guts up... and they had only provided two paper bags. The pilot's annoyed expression notwithstanding, Cameron actually thought it was a good run; his few combat drops from choppers had always ended badly, even when fighting other humans rather than a fucking Kaiju. He felt it rather auspicious that he had done so well. Perhaps it was a sign that Jaegers really were his thing after all. Hell, after failing ten sim runs in a row, anyone would have thought he would be signed off as a potential pilot but here he was, being shuttled halfway across the damn world to the front line of all things giant-monster-related. Sufficed to say, it wasn't really his choice. Cameron was an infantryman, through and through; he had always held a preference for the old fashioned yomp over an AFV, even when in the Rifles, so God only knew how he was expected to handle a giant fucking robot. Pay was good though, so he kept the bitching to himself.

After what felt like hours the pitch of the engine changed, signifying their arrival at the Hong Kong dome. Not his first time here, but his previous visit had been under very different circumstances. When they were finally down, he slung his duffle bag and gave the pilot a grin that managed to be both grateful and apologetic, and hopped out before he got a finger in reply. At the edge of the helipad a few others had gathered, most of them looking like lost lambs with their bags and young too... Or maybe it was just that he was old; Jaeger pilots tended to be kids for some God-awful reason. There was one face that he recognised though, both from his warning orders and a couple of years TV coverage. He saluted crisply, unsure of how military protocol was received nowadays. 'Ma'am. Cameron Arkwright, reporting. I assume you're our chaperone?'

[Assistant]
Tomiko Fraser - Floor 1 - Main Hangar
Tommie's foot bobbed to the steady beat of her iPod as the tunes filled her ears. She'd been at the Shatterdome for a few days, ever since arriving on their doorstep with an almost factory new NA-07 Deep Sea Dragon, which she'd managed to get built from spare parts by her black market contacts, and she'd finally found the perfect spot to listen to her sounds in peace.

Looking down from her perch high over the central hangar she spotted a flurry of unusual behaviour, something which her made her 'recon ops' reflexes tingle. She had a gift for noticing the small details others sometimes overlooked and the arrival of a helicopter full of unfamiliar faces was something that practically anyone would notice. With a quick sigh she pulled off her headphones and quickly stowed them on her belt before unclipping an ascender which had been stored beside her little noise maker.

Attaching the grapple carefully Tommie hooked her foot into the device and stepped off the gantry. It took a second of freefall before the line snapped tight, catching her in midair before gently slowing her pace as the ground glided up to meet her. With a quick snap she retracted the line, ignoring the cries of one of the dockworkers who was almost hit by the grapple as it reeled back into the small device.

With a bounce in her step Tommie quickly crossed over to the newcomers, a warm smile on her face and eyes quickly scanning over each of them, checking for signs of concealed weapons and unusual body language which could signify a threat.

"Hello boys," She called out with a laugh, waving her hand at the group to signal to them where she was as she approached over the deck. "I'm PPDC Ranger Tomiko Fraser, callsign Razor, but you can just call me Tommie."


[System]
Age: 20

Regular

Position: Spear Bearer

Special Position: Dansulsa

Physique: Very High

Endurance: High

Resistance: Medium

Aptitude: Low

Reason for climbing the tower: Individual fame

NOTE: The broadsword shown is her weapon of choice, but she usually carries a spear.

[User]
Candice opened her eyes to darkness. An empty expanse stretched out above her to a high ceiling she couldn't see as she slowly came to her senses; a cold, stone floor beneath her back, dry and motionless air passing her lips with each breath, which was also the only sound she could hear.

"The first floor."

It was a statement, rather than a question. A reminder, as the last thing she saw before blackness overtook her vision came back to her; a white rabbit holding a golden staff with orbs at each end, appearing in the air above her home in order to take her away, to make her a chosen Regular.

"Indeed it is. Welcome, Princess, it's been quite a while since I last had the pleasure of meeting one of Zahard's chosen children."

Turning her head, Candice could see the Guardian standing there, off to the side. He was partially hidden by the shadows, darkness falling over half of his figure to give him a mysterious and even sinister appearance. She pushed herself up to her feet and began to approach him, the closest thing Regular's like her had to a God, and stood before him. He was surprisingly short, as discounting the ears the top of his head barely came up to her chin, and bore no expression on his featureless face.

"Can we skip the formalities? Just give me whatever test you have so I can get going."

The slit at the side of Headon's head opened slightly, the gleaming pupil of one eye staring out at her in a way that made a chill run up her spine; it was not a gaze that held any amount of kindness. "So impatient? I get so many visitors, but so few of them are willing to stay and talk with me. I suppose there is nothing to be done." Headon walked passed her, Candice twisting away to avoid bumping shoulders with the Guardian and he paced to a random spot in the room, staff held behind his back, before he stopped and turned back to her. "Hmm. What kind of test should I give the Princess I wonder? A test of strength, of intelligence, of will? You surely hold all of these in abundance already, or else you wouldn't be here, would you?"

I feel like he's mocking me. He probably is; what does a title like Princess mean to a "God" like him?

"Give me what test you want; I'll pass, whatever it is."

Again, that slit spread open, this time revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth in an approximation of a grin; albeit the kind if grin a predator gave a mouse before gobbling it up. "Very well." Headon pulled an arm out from behind his back and pointed his golden staff at empty air, a large, black ball appearing from nothing at the tip. "Break this ball and you pass."

Candice eyed the thing suspiciously. "That's it?" She took a step forward when she received no answer. "Just pop this thing and I'm done?" Another few steps forward and she was standing directly in front of it. It was black, darker than any black she'd seen before, so dark she couldn't even see her reflection in it. "No time limits or other requirements? Just smash the damn thing?"

The Guardian remained silent, saying and doing nothing as it waited to see what she would do. "Tsk, fine." Candice took a step back and raised her leg up, swinging her foot to the side in a semi-circle until it was above her head, before bringing it down like a hammer on top of the ball with all of the strength she could muster. The ball, in response, popped like a soap bubble as soon as she made contact with it, offering no resistance at all and leaving her feeling unbalanced as her heel slammed into the ground. The resulting crash was deafening in the empty expanse, continuing to echo for long, awkward seconds as Candice stood there, though there was not so much as a scratch on the floor itself.

Once the sounds had all died down the Guardian finally moved, raising an empty hand and holding it palm up. "Congratulations, you passed!"

Candice turned to the Guardian, anger and indignation warring with her better judgement as she directed her rage at the being of ultimate power before her. "Is this some kind of joke? Are you giving me an easy time because I'm a Princess?"

"Of course not Princess." Headon spread his hands wide, holding his staff out to one side and an open hand with splayed fingers on the other, arms out as to encompass everything in the room. "When a Regular appears before me, whether they are the lowest of the low, an heir of the Ten Great Families or even a Princess, I just prepare a test that is equivalent to the value of their wish. That is the fate of the Tower Administrator."

"Tsk." Damn Rabbit. So you're saying my dream is only worth this much? It's only worth as much as a soap bubble? Yeah, I guess that makes sense. It's just my selfish little wish after all. One more selfish wish to go with all the other selfish wishes in the world. "Whatever. I passed so send me up. I'm done here."

Headon gave no other reaction after that, but Candice felt like he was smirking at her nonetheless as he sent her up.

[Assistant]
Nikola woke up with a groan. His eyes adjusting to the light as he began to take in his surroundings, an empty expanse that's ceiling stretched so high that one could no longer see it and a cold stone floor with the smoothest texture he has ever seen or felt. Standing up from his 'bed', Nikola began looking around for the guardian that brought him, sniffing the air but finding no scent.

Where the hell did that rabbit go?

Nikola continued his search for the guardian, reading the flow of shinsoo, and trying to find any hints he couldn't see with his eyes. His ears straining to find even the simple drop of a pin. The young canine wandering around in a circle in the labyrinth-like area. Feeling impatient, Nikola simply began gathering some shinsoo in his hand and firing the blast toward a nearby wall. Surprised that his contract seemingly still applied to this floor and that the wall was undamaged.

"Welcome, Nikola, it's been quite a while since I last had the pleasure of testing one from your species. As you can see the contract you're born under still holds some weight on this floor."

Headon the rabbit-like Guardian of the Tower appeared before him, partially hidden by the darkness of the First Floor, the creature twirled a long yellow stick with two green balls at each end similar to a baton, before stopping and pointing it at him. "Are you ready to take your test child?" A sinister flash of teeth appearing on the slits on the Guardian's head. An almost predatory warning directed at the Regular. Nikola for his part simply walked forward and approached the god, the height difference becoming readily apparent as the two stood in front of each other.

"Man why did you take so long? Come on throw whatever test you want."

"So eager as always... Well then considering your capabilities."  Headon began to walk toward an empty space, stopping at about 10 feet away from Nikola and tapping his staff once on the ground. Four pillars rose from the ground each covered in glowing crystals. "These pillars are capable of shooting concentrated blasts of shinsoo toward you. Headon began to explain as he pointed toward the crystals on the pillars. "Your goal is to either avoid all the blasts for 1 hour or disable all pillars. But you are not permitted to use your sight for this test and will have to rely on your ability to read shinsoo."  Headon finished before throwing a blindfold with intricate runes sewn into it.

Tying it around his face Nikola noticed that his eyes were entirely devoid of any light, merely the sound of his feet scraping across the floor reaching his senses. "There isn't even a tiny bit of light going through this thing huh?"

"Such a handicap shouldn't be a problem for one who wants to be recognized by one of the True Canines."

"You got me there, LET'S START THEN!" Nikola announced with vigor as he began to focus on reading the flow of shinsoo around him. A rippling wave coming towards his head, which he deftly avoided before sensing another one coming toward his back. The canine quickly dropping down to the ground, the wave passing above him.

"Left. Right. Behind. Below, Above. Right. "

Nikola continued to read the flow, dodging each shot with finesse even as the pillars began to speed up their assault. "Damnit I need to start going on the offensive I won't be able to keep this up if he starts speeding them up like this." Gathering a wave of shinsoo in his right hand Nikola dodged the next blast aimed at his head before accelerating his own wave to destroy the source of the attack.

"Alright just three more to go. "

The destruction of the fourth pillar having lessened the number of attacks, Nikola needed to avoid. Allowed the young canine swiftly destroyed the remaining pillars with ease. Each destruction lessening the strain of dodging on his body, until finally, he couldn't read any more attacks coming his way and promptly sat on the smooth floor.

"Congratulations, you passed! Approximately 8 minutes and 49 seconds, impressive. You may now proceed." Headon commented with a slitted grin before waving his hand sending the regular up the blindfold falling in the spot Nikola was just sitting in.

[User]
RACHELI

 Rachel woke up to find herself sprawled on a cold surface which appearance was slightly odd, she stood up for a moment she was blinded by a golden light. Then the ight ceased and faded revealing a touch lit room, before her stood a tall guardian who seemingly looked nice but have off creepy vibes. Rachel bowed before the guardian politely, and looked directly towards the guardian. The guardian took a small bow, and looked down at rachel.

"Welcome, you shall take a test dear."He said in a soft tone.
" What test will I take? "Rachel asked.
" Blow out the touches using your weapon, it must be one stroke. "He told her.
" I'll complete this task sir. "Rachel relpied.
" I wish you the best of luck dear. "He said smiling.

 Rachel took her weapon and slowly started to run in a circle slowly and began going fastef. As she ran faster she cut the touch tips with fire down to size as the flames flickered. Finally all the flames blew out and complete darkness surrounded her and she has an eerie feeling.
" Well done! You have completed your test! "The guardians voice echoed.

 Light returned to the room and she could see the guardian now closely in front of her smiling. He held the hands of Rachel and placed her in her hands standing up.
" You have passed, I hope you earn what your looking for dear please come back when you can. "The guardian smiled knowing that isn't possible.

 Rachel hugged his thumb and was sent up to the next level, first she waved goodbye to the guardian and looked up.

[Assistant]
Jae opens her eyes to find herself staring into an endless black chasm of a ceiling. Her ears twitch, reaching for any semblance of a sound as she finds herself instinctually taking in every detail of her surroundings. She stands from the cool, smooth surface, her spear twirling between her fingers.

"The first floor. Where did he-?"

Her voice is soft, almost a whisper as if she didn't want to break the silence that had enveloped the space. That is until her ears twitch in warning, and she spins and crouches into a battle-ready stance, to come face to face with the rabbit-like Guardian.

"Ah, hello. It's been quite a while since I've seen a canine lord such as yourself, Gyeong-Hui Kang."

The slit on Headon's face (if you could even call it that) spreads into a menacing grin, similar to that of a predator gauging how much fun it could have while torturing its prey. Jae might have shuddered, had she not been accustomed to his type.

"My name is Jae. What's my test?"

Jae relaxes, but only slightly, not trusting the Guardian. She shifts her weight to her back leg, casually holding her spear.

"Quite the impatient one, aren't you?"

Jae makes a soft growling sound.

He better not be making fun of me.

Headon's slit of teeth widens.

"Alright, alright. Well, all you have to do is hit this target."

A target of condensed Shinsoo forms and Jae squints slightly, considering what her plan of action could be. There's no way that a cube was her only test; there had to be a catch. And there is. As soon as Jae steps forward, the cube moves away from her. After making a small irritated noise in the back of her throat, Jae closes her eyes and listens to the Shinsoo move. After anticipating its movements, she throws her spear into its center, and the cube explodes. She huffs in annoyance.

"That's all?"

Headon shrugs, and the slit that was his mouth now stares at her.

 "You passed. Goodbye!"

"Do you mean to tell me-?"

Jae's slight indignation was cut off as she was sent up.


[System]
Age: 16

Heritage: The daughter of the late White Queen, Alyce Heart, named after another ancestor somewhere down the line. Her father died a couple months before she was born, making him one of the firsts murdered by the Red Sorceress before anyone realized war was at hand.

Appearance: Elayra stands at about 5'6", is of a small build, and has a light skin tone. She has gray eyes, her mother's eyes, that often have a haunted look in them, and is often told by those few who remember the White Queen that she looks like her mother. She wears her platinum hair with its loose curls down most of the time, and her fingernails are almost always chewed short.

Distinguishing Marks: She has many scars on her body from both training and battle with the creatures of Wonderland. From blade wounds and burn marks from spells, to claw and bite marks, the scars are all in various stages of healing, some now only faint silvery lines. Of easiest notice is the still healing scar stretching vertically over her left eye from just above her eyebrow down to her cheek the length of her nose. She's fairly proud of this one, having gained it just before killing one of the Red Sorceress' scouts.

Clothes Wear: Though it is the standard of the common female in the land to wear a dress, Elayra loathes the things and refuses to wear one unless absolutely necessary. She prefers a pair of trousers and a form-fitting top in colors that help her blend in with her surroundings. She wears tall leather boots with a slight heel, and a pair of matching bracers. She also has a belt that holds her trusty sword and favored dagger, as well as a pouch in which she keeps what little amount of the stones that are the land's currency she has managed to collect, along with a few other small odds and ends. However, she does have a dress in her wardrobe for those rare occasions when it would help her to better fit in with the world around her.

Abilities: Magic-wise, she is capable of only a few simple spells, since she has spent honing her ability to access the magic that flows through the world. On the other hand, she has been learning how to fight since she was capable of holding a weapon. She is rather extraordinary at wielding polearms, hand-to-hand combat, shooting a bow, and various types of swords. However, she tends to favor the sword, and is fairly quick on her feet.

Weapons: Ever since Drust deemed her worthy and able enough to have her own, good weapons, she's used two particular weapons: a saber, and a kris dagger. Both of these, according to Drust, were gifts from her mother. While the White Queen never used the sword, the dagger itself was once a favored side weapon by her mother. Sword: It resembles a long, double-edged saber, the blade curving slightly. The blade has a blue hue to it, and the rather plane hilt is a dull silver color with a black leather-wrapped handle. Kris Dagger: Essentially the same in appearance as her sword, only with a wavy blade. Bow and Arrows: A simple recurve bow made of a strong, sturdy wood. She has added random small carvings onto it. The arrows are of a matching wood with brilliant blue fletching that changes shades and even adds a bit of purple and green in different lighting. She often has the bow slung over her back, and the quiver of arrows hanging at her hip. Unless, of course, she feels she has no eminent need for them, in which case she stores them away in her pack. The quiver is enchanted to keep the arrows from falling out, no matter how violently shaken, but allows for its owner to easily pull them out. Unlike her bladed weapons, this was "borrowed" from one of the Forsaken.
Weapon Update: As of page 16 in IC, she no longer has her kris dagger. Instead, courtesy of unforeseen events, she's using one of her guardian's, Drust's, spare stiletto daggers. It's a rather simple affair. The silvery metal forms a spiral at the the hilt, topped by an elegant round pummel. Its needle-pointed, triangular blade's length is around nine inches. Unlike your common Earth stilettos, each of the three thin sides are forged and sharpened in a way that lets it be used for cutting and slashing, not just thrusting.

Personality: Having grown up in the perilous world of Wonderland, Elayra tends to be suspicious of everyone and everything, since you can't even trust what you see in the world anymore. She is careful and watchful, and always on the move, always secretly hoping to encounter one of the Red Queen's followers so she could bring about their demise. When around people she knows, or in a situation where emotions are heightened or heated, she is not afraid to speak her mind, often not thinking through her words before they leave her tongue, which has often ended poorly and resulted in a couple of her scars. She is not one to hesitate to defend what she believes is right, or to fight for those hurting from the Sorceress' rule. She is the brutal, fearless sort, and even when she does feel fear, sorrow, or any other 'weak' feelings, she refuses to show it, either her bitter, angry side emerging with more potency, or putting on a cocky, self-assured grin and spouting off a few smart comments. Though she often fantasizes about what Wonderland was like before the curse, the weight of reality is always a crushing one, and she fears to dwell on the dreams for long for fear the world may never be restored. After all, if the fate of the world really would rest on the shoulders of her and someone she knew nothing about, she dares not hope for the best. Life had taught her all too well that hope did little besides bring about painful disappointment.

Major Positive Traits: Active. Dedicated. Adaptable. Curious. Brave. Alert. Compassionate toward those suffering from the Red Queen's rule. Fierce.

Major Negative Traits: Stubborn. A bit sadistic when it comes to her enemies. Bitter. Overly serious. Untrusting. Harsh. Hot-tempered.

Weaknesses: She often acts too fast and without thinking things completely through, letting her emotions get the best of her. Though it often works for her, she can be too fierce, often getting carried away and taking it from a heartfelt intensity to an almost scary ferocity.

Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Chews on her fingernails. Twirls or chews a strand of hair when thinking. Tags: "I'm nobody." "It's a living nightmare." She always speaks with a serious, and authoritative tone.

Fears: Extremely small spaces, and otherwise being locked up. Complete darkness—or, rather, not being capable of seeing what might be lurking in it. Failing to dethrone the Red Sorceress. Of facing the Red Sorceress. Of not being capable of living up to the shadow cast by her mother.

Other: Cherished Object: A necklace the White Knight gave to her. It is a family heirloom in the shape of the royal coat-of-arms that the queen ordered him to give Elayra once she turned thirteen. About an inch large, a red stone creates a heart with a curved bottom and a point that curls up into a spiral. Atop it is a small blue rose in bloom. Two swords of tarnished silver weave through part of the heart on either side to create an X, the tiny metal pieces visible through the red stone. The pendant hangs by the swords from a chain that is shockingly sturdy, and she always keeps it hidden beneath her shirt to prevent it from possibly giving her identity away. It's said to glow when the thing the wearer seeks is near, and has proven that rumor to be truth.

Short Bio: Elayra remembers little, if anything, of how life was before the Sorceress' curse ravaged the land. She has been told the story of how they escaped: the White Knight took the two children through a hidden passage in the palace, and they made their way over the land to Harrow Hollow Hill, where it is said portals to many worlds reside. With the opening of a couple of them eminent, they jumped on the opportunity. With the portal entrance too small for the three to fit through together, the boy went first. Before the other two could follow, they were ambushed by a few of the Sorceress' creatures and forced to flee or be killed.
 When the queen's curse took effect, it did no harm to Elayra, but it changed the White Knight. Though he remained mostly in control of himself, never forgot the task he had been charged with, the kindness and genteelness that once ruled him was all but abolished. In its place was an almost crazed brutality kept at bay by only the little of who he once was that remained.
 So, Elayra grew up knowing only the nightmarish side of Wonderland and with a surrogate parent who was firm and harsh, always unrelenting in his training. He taught her how to wield various types of weapons, as well as educated her about everything he could to aid her in succeeding in bringing down the Red "Queen." Though he showed a restraint that all others affected by the curse lacked, his methods were just shy of barbaric on the field. However, the Knight did have moments where his true self shone through, showing a kindness befitting a doting father. But, on the other side of the coin, there were times when the curse took almost full control, sending him into a terrifying rage.
 The two occasionally stayed with a few other survivors and supporters of the White Queen, all living underground and hoping they would not be found. She kept who she was a secret, by order of the Knight, and for knowing that if anyone knew who she was, it could very well mean her death.
 She learned quickly, as one must when living in a world where even the grass could try to tear you apart, and your mentor, when more consumed by the curse, lived by the philosophy that "pain is the greatest teacher." Even so, the Knight was the only family she had, and she cherished every moment when the curse was subdued long enough for her to see a small glimpse into the gentle, caring people Wonderland was once filled with.
 At long last the Knight, who watched the skies diligently, told her it was finally nearly time for the portal to Earth to open and for her to seek out the Hatter's son. The two set out on the journey once more to Harrow Hallow Hill in the dismal hope that she would succeed and be capable of bringing him home to Wonderland and putting an end to the evil Red Queen's reign, and the rule would once more belong to the Heart family.

[User]
Elayra snorted. "Fine by me," she snapped.
 She took a breath, trying to calm her impatience and worries. With Ghent's eyes closed, she tried to think back to the first of the few, more official lessons in magic Drust had given her, and of the various bits and pieces she had picked up in between.
 "Magic's all around us, it just exists on a plane all its own, so most people can't see it. But a lot of us can feel it, if we try. If we reach out to it first. Once you've found it once, it'll be easier to find it when you need it. So." She uncrossed her arms and leaned back against one of the benches. "Clear your head, then imagine the energy of magic flowing around us. Once you can feel it, command it. For now, use focus words. The one for a basic shield is tuito. It's a good one for a beginner."
 She stared at him intently, for the first time that morning not paying her surroundings much attention. She took a slight step away in case he managed to mispronounce the command, her eyes never leaving him, fearing the worst, but hoping, despite her better judgment, for the best.

[Assistant]
"How can I imagine something I've never seen?" Ghent grimaced, tense in both mind and body. This sounded like a bunch of New Age nonsense to him, and he felt just a touch ridiculous standing in the middle of the pavilion with his eyes closed.
 Focus. Ghent inwardly chastised himself, exhaling once in an attempt to calm down. Somehow, he had to feel the energy he could hardly imagine.
 Empty your mind.
 Try as he might, Ghent couldn't feel much of anything; he wasn't sure how the magic would feel, should the energy be there. All he could "feel" was the cold and dampness of his clothes, no thanks to the unforgiving weather.
 This isn't working. Nothing's there. Admitting defeat was one thing, admitting defeat to Elayra? Unthinkable. Keep trying.
 Brows knit, Ghent made one last attempt to focus. He needed to forget the pattern of rain, he had to stop worrying about failure, tune out Elayra's voice...
 After what felt a lifetime, Ghent felt the smallest hint of change in the air. The magic may have revealed itself, or he'd tricked himself into believing. Either way, he wanted to seize the moment before it was gone.
 Tuito.
 Ghent froze up. He'd read Harry Potter in the back of the Book Barn. Pronouncing a spell incorrectly could prove disastrous. This did nothing to help his already rattled nerves.
 "T-Tuteao!" Ghent shot his hand forward as any good wizard should have, though he kept his eyes squeezed shut in fear of a disaster he feared would follow.


[System]
Role/Class: The Mayor's Daughter

Appearance:
Personality
 Guinevere craves for the feeling of adventure. Traveling across the world and defeating various evils is what fills her dreams at night. Staying in her home town forever frightens Guinevere and she would do anything to escape that future. While leaving her father will be the hardest thing in her life, she knows fulfilling her dream is what she needs to do.

 Hardworking and stubborn, Guinevere will never give up on sometimes she's determine to do. Even if that something puts her danger, she'll do whatever it takes. More often than not, Guinevere will worsen the situation but in the end, she'll always set things right.

 Thanks to her long, hard hours of training, Guinevere has gained an incredible sense of patience. She can outwait anything or anyone. By being patient and calm, she tends to upset and startle multiple people though. Some of the townsman even play little games as to see how fast Guinevere can piss off the new resident.

 While Guinevere has a strong, feminine personality, she doesn't have very many friends. By no means is she shy or frighten to speak to others for her bravery outshines none. Girls her age feel a little standoffish by her so Guinevere tends to stay back and hangs out with the guys.

 Guinevere has a terrible reputation for causing disasters. Wherever she goes, accidents seem to follow. She has a wild spirit that loves to have fun, even if that 'fun' means jumping on the roofs of the town. Countless people have scolded her for it, including her own father, but Guinevere just doesn't seem to let up. When adventure calls, Guinevere must follow.

Bio

 Born from generations of warriors, it was obvious Guinevere would have the same fighting spirit as her ancestors. From the moment she could walk, Guinevere was given a sword and learned the craft of swordsmanship. Unlike most girls in the town learning how to sew and take care of a household, she spent her time clashing swords with the boys. It wasn't long before she gained a reputation for being a mighty warrior. There's very few fighters who can keep up with Guinevere.

 Due to her passion for swords, Guinevere has an incredibly close bond with her father. They'll often spend nights together, looking at the stars and discussing various adventurous stories they've both learned or even made up. Unfortunately, Guinevere spent so much time fighting, she was never able to establish a close relationship with her mother. While they both love each other, they just never connected the way a mother and daughter are supposed to.

 Countless admires have caught Guinevere's eye, but she chooses to ignore anything to do with romance. The idea of falling in love seems terrifying to her. Any romance could lead to marriage, which would mean the destruction of her dream. So she runs from anyone who even dares winking at her. When it comes to battling monsters or villains, Guinevere is fearless and completely brave, but mention the word love and she'll take off running for her life. Most of the men around the town are aware of her distaste for romance so they tend to back off. Of course that doesn't stop them from talking about her when she isn't around.

 Whenever she's not holding a sword or eating like a complete glutton, Guinevere spends most of her free time snuggled up in a comfortable chair at the town's library. She loves reading stories of other warriors and the struggles they've faced. Becoming one of the many heroes in legend fills her up with excitement.

Weapon

 Guinevere carries around a single sword, a gift on her 16th birthday from her father. Shields are too heavy and boring for her, so she only uses them when absolutely necessary.

Skills:

Combat Queen: Guinevere is considered one of the best fighters in town. She can wield a sword like no other, with the exception of her father. She's not as strong as most men but uses her swift movement to outsmart and beat them.

Bravery No one is braver than Guinevere, who is afraid of practically nothing (except marriage!).

Leadership Like father, like daughter, Guinevere's personality shines when things need done. She's one of the few who steps up to the plate to establish a plan and determine the best solution.

Athletic and Fit Sword fighting does the trick for putting you in shape. Guinevere will often spend time running around town to keep herself fit as well.

[User]
The girl utterly hated when that bit mad faces and moves like that on her but it was something she had gotten used to over time though it had gotten no less irksome to her and her mother. "I swear, that bot is a masochist."  the girl grumbled with a heavy sigh as he walked away. She stepped toward her own home, tired but not too much so to make it inside and look through the cupboards for something to drink. Her mother, naturally, had come down after seeing her and set out a loaf of bread with some cheese and meat for a snack before she went to sleep that morning while the town began to wake. She didn't say much before taking her plate with her up the stairs toward the wing of the house that she occupied, her window near a nice tree to shade it though she normally closed to drapes to keep the sun from coming inside while she slept. After a long night like that she needed a good sleep and the sun and noise that the drape blocked would wake her if it reached her.

Illya pushed her door open with her foot and set her plate on the table by the wall while she moved around, hanging her cloak on the hanger not too far from the door before she fell onto her bed and kicked off her boots. That was when she saw the flower bud hanging from her ceiling right above her pillow.

"Are you fucking shitting me?!"

The young woman reached over and picked up a heavy book, throwing it directly at the flower though, the bud seemed to move right out of the way so she missed the stupid thing. She'd heard the legends from the bard at the tavern on the rare nights when she wasn't working and decided to drink the night away, sometimes even speaking with the men who came to their little town in the Vale on their travels. She found it amusing that she was often the first woman for these men to approach, considering that even if she was a rent girl she'd be one of the more expensive ones - they left with empty pockets anyway.

Back to the flower the young woman stared at it, the leaves moving in the breeze from the open window as if they were mocking her though she rolled over and decided to ignore it as she lay out the treasure she had lottery the night before on her bed while eating the food shed brought upstairs with her.

[Assistant]
-Laciel Lenssed : Training Grounds-

As the boy stumbled on his words, he flinched as the blade of Guineveres sword almost came into contact with his fleshy face, which wouldn't look good in the long run. It was only a natural reaction to try and move away from an opponent to avoid getting part of your face cut off, but in Laciels case, he would need a few stitches and a concotion from Alixianna. Either way, he avoided any harm yet again as he stared at the sword as it abruptly stopped, his eyes fixated on the girls hand. There was tension still embedded within him, latching on and keeping him on edge.

It was about to get worse in the long run as a random screech struck up behind him.

His next natural reaction was to turn around in sheer animosity with an earpircing city of surprise. This only worsened the boys state of mind as he fell onto his behind, looking up at a triumphant Varric. Laciel felt that he was forced to play the fool, a cad in the situation, not the well mannered scholar he was born as. Even worse was he believed he did something wrong which caused him to ponder on if Varric was mocking him indiscriminately. Even worse was when he decided to try and throw him off with a premature jab involving one of his pranks - ones that costed them time and a tinge bit of money.

At this point in time, he could only wonder in sheer befuddlement to his reason being here as he stared blankly at the two as he pushed himself up, listening to them speak. It only served to make him wonder if he said the incorrect phrase to Guinevere or if he was interrupting their time. Either way, he started tapping the tip of his chin as he continued to listen to the ongoing discussion about botany and the such, specifically about flowers and friendship.

"Specific and peculiar to a degree... Wait, could this flower thing be completely related to the little budding gift I recently received after the two years eve of my fathers departure on such a precarious and suspiciously direct quest. Hmm, if I can recall, there was a tale involving a... a deer and two brothers. The details escape me, but maybe this might be related to the letter? I'll question mother or Varrics mom later... or possibly consign myself to the books co answers."

As the young scholar permitted himself to delving into such inexorable thoughts, he continued to listen to the duo speak. Laciel inconspicuously hid his frown as he turned his head to the side, his ears still attentive just as his flexible mind. He had the courage to stand up and speak his mind to Guinevere, showing how he wasn't afraid to pursue ideal dreams, unlike Laciel himself. He stared at the ground, gritting his teeth, bitter at what he couldn't accomplish.

The boy only felt that this was a massive punch to the gut as he became even more greener at the sight of what he just saw.

Guinevere reciprocated Varrics feelings after his well placed words, even after turning the corrosive speech to Laciel as a way of possibly telling him off into a well mannered confession that tugged at the heart. Why... why couldn't he do what Varric could? This mere shell kept him from making barely any friends aside from the duo in front of him and Illya who had spunk and teased him to a considerable interval, but now he felt it was segregating himself even further from them.

"... Did I ever even... have any sort of chance? Or was it just a mere illusion I wanted to believe in due to my admiration of her?"

Nothing felt right to the boy as his own insatiable wonder garnered him a possible chance to be with her. He understood the girls fears of being chained down, however he knew he could allow her to follow her desires and maybe show her that love wasn't all too disturbing. However, a friend, a contender was able to beat him to the punch.

Varric was able to successfully complete this cycle, causing him to leave his mouth slightly agape at the sight of them hugging before they removed themselves from each other. Maybe his way of thinking this through was skewed and selfish? He did legitimately worry for the girl and her problems, but he felt she shouldn't worry over such a natural thing. He didn't want to deprive her of one of the joys of life but forcing her to a forgone conclusion wouldn't land them anywhere.

The boy regained his composure as soon as Varric began his natural affinity for speaking with flourishing words. The flirt made a jest about taking her out to dinner, acting all cute around her... However, a few words mentioned by Varric did him justice and compiled the questions he given out into a presentable answer. At least that lightened his spirits temporarily before being bogged down yet again.

"More the better, huh? I would feel like an odd wheel interjecting itself into a date if I were to do that. Its already bad enough wondering if I said something incorrect, but inviting me to make matters worse, no... no... thanks."

"I, ah, uhm... I th-think i'll j-just p-pass for n-now. I sh-should probably be h-heading back to the f-forge for n-now, I g-guess i'll s-see you two l-later..."

"..."

"Ah, b-buh-bye!"

With that final timidly placed bye, he power walked away from the scene, pondering on the myriads of possibilities of what they could be thinking of. As he did this, he headed away from his said destination of the forge thanks to a well placed lie. Laciel felt that his mother could cover for him as he prepared some of the weapons ahead of time, just in case anyone stopped by while his mother tended to the shop. He begged to whatever gods existed about her not minding. As he swiftly continued on Laciel felt the need to clear his head and a friend could possibly help him out with this if she still wasn't out on one of her nightly prospects which he feared for her safety.

Laciel could only wonder how she faired as he traversed to Illya and Marideths dwelling - a lonely mansion on the edge of town.