[System]
Age: 23

Race: Tieflings

Chosen School of Magic:
Swordmage; Shielding/Assault
Pacting
Invocation; Destrucion
Conjuration

Alignment: Lawful Evil

 Kyvir is an Enormous man, standing at 6'7, and weighing about 235 lbs. He has a patch of thick scars over his mouth, though these are the only ones commonly visible. His back, torso, and legs however are covered in scars of varying length and thickness, and have come from whips, fights, and abuses too numerous to count. He isn't often deemed attractive, however he is seen as powerful, or intimidating at the least. His black eyes, combined with his harsh and scarred appearance often prevent people from approaching him, however few would dare call him ugly. His facial features are rough, just as his horns, and are both a deep, bloody red in tone.

 He can be found wearing Leather armour, or combat armour almost exclusively, and always carries his Sword and dagger. Beneath his layers of armour are layers of scars, splattered almost lazily over his muscular form. He walks with a sense of readiness, as if he is constantly waiting for someone to jump from the shadows and slay him where he stood. However, despite his size, he is surprisingly agile, and his movements do carry a sense of purpose.
Magical Talents:

Evocation - As with most Tieflings, Kyvir has a resistance to heat that allows him to use flame oriented magic in close combat. More often than not, he will set his own sword on fire during battle. He has also managed to set people entirely on fire during trials organized by Slavers

Abjuration - As Kyvir was intended to become a Slave Ward, he was required to learn how to create and maintain protective spells while fighting. He is capable, however he has found he uses evocation far more regularly.

Physical Talents:

 Born and Raised a fighting Slave, Kyvir is very familiar with pain. Whether it be a whip, a sword, or a staff, Kyvir has suffered through it multiple times. Because of this, Kyvir is able to fight in a very tank-like manner, and short of killing or amputating him, he's very difficult to hurt badly enough that he'll accept defeat.

 In addition to his tolerance for pain, Kyvir is a powerful fighter, his survival through each of his trials as a slave is testament to such. Kyvir learned the ways of killing at a very young age, and took his first life at nine during his initiation trials.

Weaknesses:

 Due to Kyvir's environment, he has abilities in particular fields almost exclusively, with little rounding of edges. While he is extremely talented at close to mid-range fighting, he is nearly useless at range; While he can create powerful protective spells, he can only maintain one at a time. All in all, Kyvir's capabilities are very specific, as he was bred to fill a very specific role, and he has little room for flexibility due to the harsh nature of his training. He was bred to become a ward, a guardian for a single person, not a soldier or city-guard.

Personality:

 While Kyvir could likely become an intellectual mastermind, he had any curiosity beaten out of him as a child. As such, his only interest in life has become subservience. He doesn't wish to lead, advice, strategize, or do anything but what he knows; obey and fight. He truly follows the archetype of "strong but silent," as he blatantly will not speak unless spoken to. Even then, he may not respond depending on whether or not he views them as an authority.

 Kyvir often carries a blank expression on his face, almost as if he is meditating. However, he simply prefers to avoid meaningless thoughts, and instead focusing on the task(s) at hand.

Character Flaws:

 Kyvir is a solemn, stoic man of unquestionable loyalty. However, he is not sided with a cause, nor a war, nor a party; but an individual. Whoever is placed under his Ward, he will obey and defend this person regardless of the circumstances. He will respond just the same regardless of the task at hand, whether escorting someone or burning a town into dirt and ash. He will obey, always.

Character History:

 Kyvir was bred and raised in the Eastern slave nation of Thay, a dark and foreboding land of windswept mountains and badlands. Being born into slavery, he had never known or craved another life, largely because he was a slave-ward. When Kyvir became of age, he would partake in the 10th and final trial in full view of numerous prospective buyers. Because of his status as a ward, Kyvir wasn't left to flock with the other multitudes of slaves, but would rather be isolated to his instructors and his slave kin. Because of their race, only one of the prospective Wards would survive the Final Trial, which consisted of all remaining slaves of a season being forced to battle until only one was left standing.

 Upon his birth, Kyvir's mother was executed and Kyvir was taken to where he would spend the first Twenty-Two years of his life, the House of Shields in the castle of Surthay, an elven region known as a Tharc, ruled by Homen Odesseiron. The first five years of his life were uneventful, as soon as he could walk he was tasked to assist the Castle's squires until the age of 7, when he would begin his initiation trials. At the age of Nine, he had taken his first life, one of dozens upon dozens.

 Throughout his life, he has passed through Ten trials, making him available to purchase. At the age of Twenty-Two, he was purchased by a High-Elf known to him as Lady Mornelis, who became his ward. As such, he began to accompany her to the arcanium she attended, as a student himself to avoid suspicion.

[User]
Garanin Stonehewer

Garanin was sleeping like a rock when he felt a disturbance on his face. The first poke startled him out of sleep. It wasn't until the third that he moved, a beefy hand swinging lazily at the interloper, only to hit into a piece of paper. "Uh whuzzat...?" Groaning, the dwarf sat up in his bed and looked down at the paper in his hand as it unraveled into a message. A quick read indicated that it showed which teacher he was going to be meeting with this morning. The Grand Enchanter Rovi, he was apparently called. That was certainly appropriate, since Enchanting was one of the only types of magic he could access with any regularity. Most other magics either fizzled out after a moment or were of...poor quality at best, though he'd seen some small successes with Restoration magic.

Taking his time to get dressed and armored, this time donning his full set of armor, Garanin looked about his room before taking stock. Breastplate, gauntlets, greaves, pauldrons, all accounted for. Making sure to grab his shield and hammer as well, Garanin stopped for just another moment, thinking to himself. He was at a school for mages, dressed like a soldier. He'd stick out like a sore thumb, but he'd stick out as soon as anybody asked him what magic he could use, anyway. He was certain "None, really" was a common response here.

Wondering how the few students he'd spoken to the previous day were doing, Garanin made his way to Grand Enchanter Rovi's room (being sure to avoid angering any otters on his way), solidly knocking on the door once he arrived. This was it. He was going to become a mage. Of some sort, at least.

[Assistant]
Isilfarrel Mornelis

---

"And here I was told High Elves were to be proud and noble,"

Isil was brought temporarily out of her thoughts by a sudden presence next to her.

"Yet here you stand looking like a child who was denied dessert before dinner. I take it you also have an issue with your assigned mentor?"

"C-childish?" Isil stuttered, remembering that she was in public and should at least not appear so impatient. She turned towards the man in question and gave him a slightly surprised look. "O-oh, uhm. Haha, I guess I am behaving rather childishly, aren't I? Having a bird peck at your cheek until you wake up tends to be rather grating on the nerves, especially if you're not much of a morning person and spent all night studying." She gave him a soft smile, laughing lightly as she held her hands together sheepishly. "Perhaps I should have had breakfast and taken a warm bath before speaking with the headmistress."

So she wasn't the only one who had an issue with their teacher, then? Curious, though she assumed she wouldn't be a unique case. There were always bound to be some people who were dissatisfied with their assigned mentors. That was just the way it was. Though, she didn't think she was behaving that childishly. Annoyed? Yes. Rightfully so in her opinion, but no need to advertise that.

"I am Isilfarrel Mornelis, pleasure to make your acquaintance, and yes well, I have something I wish to speak with the headmistress about."

[User]
Silias Aeson

---

"I am Isilfarrel Mornelis, pleasure to make your acquaintance, and yes well, I have something I wish to speak with the headmistress about."

"And I am Silias Aeson," he replied. "I look forward to learning more with you." Silias glanced again at the mentor assignments. By my father's blood, now I'm really curious... he thought. He glanced back up at Isilfarrel. "Truth be told, it's another interesting break from the typical High Elf routine. Not wanting to learn restoration magic, I mean."

Silias glanced back at the list of mentors. "So which one were you hoping to learn? Enchantment? Runes? Destruction?"

[Assistant]
Isilfarrel Mornelis

---

"Mhm. Destruction, actually, and I dabble a little in Alteration." Isil replied in a friendly tone. "Which...is not exactly something that I could easily learn in the Isles. Or was...a very popular subject to speak of." She didn't elaborate further on that - there was no need for him to know the details. It would have been clear from the slight frown she gave though, she at least wasn't telling the entire story to Silias. "Although, I fear I may have made a tiiiiny mistake on my application. Truthfully I have only been interested in learning magical arts for little over a year or so. While I am confident in my application and theory, I was a bit unsure what to classify it as at the time when I applied." She laughed lightly.

"And what of you, then?" She asked. "I actually don't recall reading your name on the list."


[System]
Archetype: Vigilante
Alias: Gunrat

Age: 25

Powers:
-Superhuman reflexes and flexibility
-Individually focusing eyes
-Pain resistance
-Metal plating under her scalp, forearms, and shins.
-The ability to dislocate any body part/joint at will.
-Mastery of Chinese martial arts

 -Note: A great deal of her power comes not from her physical ability, but from her connections to weapon-smugglers, anarchist groups, and other various factions. Her origins in China, and illegal immigration to America, means that there is no public record of her existence. As far as the government is concerned, she's a ghost.

Weaknesses: Bullets, knives, drowning, fire, explosions

Alignment: Walking the line

Personality: Traumatized, Logical, Trigger-happy, Prideful, Loyal

Appearance:

 Xiu is Chinese-American, 5'4", with a round, flat face, sickly pale skin, wide eyes, thin eyebrows, and a large forehead. Her head is shaved down the middle, with amber-died ponytails on either side. Her build is slim, but also very fit. She wears steel-toed boots, work jeans, and a thick leather jacket.

BRIEF Bio:
Storylines: Xiu was born the daughter of two Taiwanese political activists, who made it their goal in life to delegitimize the Chinese government, and incite civil war. When pro-Taiwan protests began breaking out around China in the 1990's, her parents were at the very front of the movement. Fearing that this civil unrest could spread, the government used military force to break up the protests, sending citizens fleeing to their homes. That night, police operatives broke into the homes of those involved in inciting the protests, including Xiu's parents. They were imprisoned, interrogated, and eventually killed, leaving her as a child of the state. Needless to say, no media sources were allowed to cover this, and the world went on completely unaware.
 From early childhood, Xiu was raised by various agents of the Chinese Ministry of State Security. Their goal was to create an assassin to infiltrate the governments of Taiwan, Japan, and America giving China direct leverage over the life and death of any state officials who might stand in the country's way. Training included various mental and physical experiments and surgeries, in an attempt to make her more agile and durable than a normal human. This also necessitated that she be fluent in Chinese, Japanese, and English. Chemical and surgical treatments overclocked her brain, reinforced her muscle fibers, and replaced her joints, boosting her agility, intelligence, and flexibility beyond normal human means, but left her nervous system fried and numbed, and her personality a neurotic mess. In spite of these setbacks, her resourcefulness surpassed their expectations. As a teen, she was able to hack into the ministry's computer network, and review all of the ministry's data, including her own file. Learning of her parent's cause in full detail, and how expendable she was to the state that killed them, she decided that she owed nothing to the government that raised her. Distraught, she became uncooperative to her handlers and teachers. Before too long, it was decided that she was a lost cause, and was scheduled for execution. Learning of this, she subdued her guards, and escaped the facility.
 Xiu traveled to Shanghai, where she survived for over a year by robbing street vendors and convenience stores. Eventually, she made it onto a freighter on its way to America. There she found a new purpose, modeling herself off of America's many superheroes. With the help of a couple anti-government hacker groups, she began monitoring and capturing low-level criminals, wannabe supervillains, and corrupt politicians. Unbound by the moral compass that leads most heroes, she sees herself as superior to them, and hopes to replace more traditional super-groups with her own vigilante, paramilitary organization.

Note: Will be operating not just by herself, but with her non-powered minions/sidekicks (mostly hackers and smugglers, almost always on the sidelines).

Storylines: Will initially be trying to smuggle weapons into the city, and supplant the local police force (through peaceful, but sneaky means). If interfered with, rivalries might form with either heros or villains. She's also looking for recruits into her organization.

[User]
And with last jump spinning back-kick, Stuart knocked out the last thug before him and the man tumbled to ground. Stuart was breathing heavily, his adrenaline was going almost full blast and he felt almost relieved to have the battle over. While it was exciting, it still meant going through the dangers of potentially dying and Stuart wasn't a man without fear. He then turned to head back towards where Paul had finished off his share of the criminals and as he came upon the larger hero, Paul asked him if he had any food.

"I don't have honey if that's what you're asking. You'll have to make a stop by a fast food place I guess" he replied to the bigger hero. Stuart didn't know much about Paul Bunyan, the stories say that the hero is the creator of America in the flesh and is over two hundred years old. The power that the hero possessed seemed awesome compared to his and Stuart wasn't one for bragging about his abilities.

In truth two of them seemed to be exact opposites. Paul was big and strong, while Stuart was small and quick. He was smart and Paul was kind of slow. Some say that opposites can sometimes the complimentary in terms of teamwork. Maybe this whole fight was so that they could meet and team up. The Yellow Jacket and The Builder of America, that would be an interesting team.

[Assistant]
Polaris

Stardate 2116055.7 - May 05th, 2016 // 1900 Hours

Luxe was sitting back with her feet on the control panel, munching on a frozen blue substance from Karth. She enjoyed the different cold delicacies the galaxy had to offer.

The warning lights came on and the computer informed her that she was fast approaching her newest destination, a planet called Earth. She had come to seek out a weapon left behind by an ancient civilization, still undiscovered by the primitive inhabitants that lived there at present. Her father would no doubt be sending scouts to find the weapon as well. It was one of the missions he had prepared to send his daughter on to help ensure his continuation as the current head of power in the Cabal. Luxe put her feet back on the floorboard of the Star-Breaker and began flipping switches and pushing buttons as the ship descended into the Earth's atmosphere. "Terrestrial Camouflage on, S.B." she said aloud to the ship's A.I. "Cloaking on, Captain. Currently looking for a suitable place to land near New Athens."

"It's alright, put 'er on manual. I got this," said Luxe as she expertly guided the ship down from the clouds and into a Valley that was mostly empty pasture. She let down the landing arms with a hydraulic hiss. (pffsssshhhhht) "Can you locate the weapon?" she asked Star-Breaker. "Currently, it seems as if there is a cloaking device on the weapon, Captain. I am finding no traces of it in the New Athens area. Do you want me to expand the search? It could take a few hours to include the whole continent."

Luxe thought about this for a second, and then jumped up out of her chair. "Yeah, go ahead and expand the search, I have never had a chance to explore this planet before. Maybe I can find something good to eat. Besides, I've been stuck in that chair for too long." The ship chirped approval and the computer monitors began showing data and locations in ribbons across the screens. She wished she had commandeered a bigger ship with a wardrobe unit that could outfit her with the planet's attire. She had no idea what the current fashion was here. She put on her duster and combed down her hair, after a second thought she left her pulse rifle on board- worried that it might draw unwanted attention.

"Hello world," she said as she pushed the button for the airlock and squinted against the incoming sunlight.


[System]
Sex
Male

Age
35

Race
Elf

History
Arin was born into the House of Astastel, a prestigious yet mysterious family whose influence can be felt in virtually every part of the civilized world. Although they are not officially recognized as a noble House, members of the Astastel House are accustomed to a life of luxury and being treated with the uttermost respect. There are many speculations on how the Astastel House came to gain such power, but no one knows the truth: not even their own members truly know the answer.

There are only three things people know with absolute certainty. First, unless you are born a von Astastel, you either marry into or are adopted by the House. Never the other way around. Never. Second, those who claim to be a von Astastel are a von Astastel. Finally, the House of Astastel has become increasingly interested in collecting magical items and investigating places associated with magic these past few generations.

Other
* In general, something about Arin rings false.
* Arin seems to have an aptitude for magic, but non-family members have only seen him use it for minor things such as creating light or detecting magic. He does, however, practice alchemy and abjuration magic.
* Arin is by no means a specialist in combat: he can protect himself well enough against the common thug, but that is about the extent of his combat skills. He is much better at dodging attacks and escaping from dangerous situations than being an active participant of one.
* Arin's strengths lie in academia and investigation.

[User]
Ernestus Greye

Ernestus slowly opened the door, and averted his gaze from her at first out of respect.
"Do I need to go hide?" Elra asked while trying not to cry. She gave in putting her head in her hands and cried a bit, "He was trying to break in. I didn't mean..." she paused and let the tears flow. "If he wouldn't have struggled.."

Ernestus sighed "Its alright. Let it out of your system if you need to." he said as he approached. "I won't need the salve." he then said, his hands beginning to glow a small radiant light. Ernestus knelt, and his hands hovered over the wound, it slowly closing and coming back together as if time itself was reversing on that one spot alone.
He briefly peeked at some of the scars that she had on her arm, "Everyone has scars, both mental and physical. They may be subtle or obvious." he kept his hands over the wound to make sure it fully healed. "Do not think yourself a monster. What you did was admittedly a bit rash, but for all we know, the man could of been an assassin. The princess is leading our party after all."
The wound was closed, and he shook his hands as the glow faded away. Magic slowly made his hands numb the longer he channelled it.
Ernestus sighed as he stood up, "You are not alone." he hesitated as he turned away to leave, "I too, have a beast within." he then left Elra to rest.

[Assistant] Vuthaternock wakes up, hearing snarling, and waits until everything quiets down to investigate. He sees a body lying on the floor, throat torn out, and kneels down next to it to see if that is how the man truly died, or if it was meant to cover something else up. "I wonder what happened...?" He takes the body, hefting it over his shoulder, and casts a small spell to remove the blood, and smell of death. He carries the body outside, and whistles. A giant wyvern lands nearby, folding massive wings to his back. Wux relgra ihk ve rilnom? He nods. "Si rigluin wux ekess itrewic rid di nomeno mamiss." The wyvern grins, and takes the body. Si geou ti shartleg vhira duulo rhyaex. He then flies off a short distance to enjoy his meal, cooking it with a blast of fire.


[System]
* Age: 17
* Gender: Female
* Appearance: The face of delinquency. Fear all 5'2" of her terrifying stature.

* Personality:
Surprisingly quirky, as it turns out. Chie's appearance would bring to mind a kind, cheerful girl that offers nothing but support and warmth... and to an extent, that's true. Outside of school, that is the very being you would come across: A warm, supporting, almost motherly figure that is never without a smile or good word to say, even about complete strangers.

She just also happens to have strange beliefs about school life. The most relevant opinion being "every school needs a formidable trouble-maker, right?" and... well, she ended up becoming a delinquent. So she plays the part to the best of her ability: Skipping classes, intimidating students, bossing fellow delinquents around... she can be surprisingly effective in her role, but sometimes her motherly traits shine through, protecting her fellow delinquents as if they were her real siblings. She even sometimes gives teachers advance warning of her truancy. How nice.

She can also be a tad ditzy sometimes, seemingly missing obvious sarcasm or noting a highly mundane detail in a very unusual situation. She may also come across as highly unaware of potential an opponent may face... but what if that's all an act to seem more harmless than she really is?

...That's a serious question, it's really hard to tell with Chie!

* Backstory:
There isn't much to note of Chie before entering Shiroyama. She had been a well-behaved student that achieved fairly good grades throughout her school years. However, Chie had an odd idea about her high school: It didn't represent the delinquents very well, did it? A disorganised bunch of grumpy kids, lead by a weakling? How were they supposed to present any sort of interesting obstacle to the Student Council?

In a bold move shocking just about everyone that knew her, Chie offered her criticisms to the former 'toughest delinquent on campus', was challenged to a fight, and effortlessly thrashed him. This lead to her being crowned the new leader of the deliqnuents, and to Chie adopting this role with the goal of making delinquents a powerful force to be reckoned with, and even managed to structure the unruly group as a club to better take advantage of the school's point system.

* Inherent Engine Skill:
War God's Strength - A misleadingly-titled skill that seems to grant Chie unparalleled physical strength to rival the very gods themselves! ...In actuality, it merely allows her to wield her AED as if it were weightless. Theoretically, this should extend to other items, but Chie has never demonstrated the capability of lifting other heavy objects.

* Active Engine Device:
War God's Axe - A rather massive weapon that stands just over six-feet tall, this unwieldy monstrosity can be attributed to much of Chie's reputation. In her hands, it has superior reach, power and coolness points.
Her weapon, once active, is powered by stored electricity, which she can use to power various techniques. Once this power is used up, her weapon is an overly-heavy prop that, while still dangerous in Chie's hands, is nowhere near as threatening as when Chie can create shockwaves or throw out a stunning field when smacking the ground.

* Skills:
Chie is fairly skilled at many domestic tasks; cooking, cleaning and babysitting youngsters being her most notable skills.

* Rank: 37th

* Club:
Shiroyama's Decadent Failures and Disruptive Elements Club: The head of this particular club, formed mainly to take advantage of club benefits. Activities include, but are not limited to: developing 'tough guy' talk, developing lunch-money-shakedown techniques, how to modify one's school uniform into something badass, and theatrics.

[User]
@HeroicSociopath@ThirdHourIII
"Right! I'm sorry to impose on you, because I know you're not keen on fighting, but I was wondering if you would spar with Kazuya-kun here. You might've heard about his...err, record." She paused for a moment, then she realized she'd forgotten to mention something fairly relevant. "Oh! I don't mean actually fight him. I was wondering if you'd be willing to intercept some of his attacks, for analysis."

Looking at the punk beside her she sighed. I guess this is another opportunity. With a broad smile she once more spoke to Ryuji. "You know, Senpai, I could also fight him in your stead. I doubt he could even beat a rank 0 like myself."

Megumi then confidently smirked at Ban. "Oh, excuse me. That was rude. It's just that tossers like you always manage to rub me the wrong way. Luckily this is a fighting school, so disputes like this can be settled quickly and efficiently. And you'll be my first opponent here, too! Isn't that exiting?"

For a brief moment Megumi considered continuing her taunt, but seeing the young man's temper she considered this to be more than enough.

[Assistant]
Ichihara Ban
@Ryougu@HeroicSociopath

Ban was reluctantly impressed with how Ryuji handled his taunts. It seemed as if his words landed on deaf ears, not even a twitch of annoyance or rage, how anti-climactic. The red haired asshole narrowed his eyes when the giant teen cryptically responded to his question, hiding his motives. Looks like he wasn't going to be able to pry an answer out of the guy, oh well...

It irked him to be ignored so quickly, these people were no fun at all! This was a Battle School for shit's sake, wasn't the whole point of this place to fight and have fun? With Ryuji focusing on a quiet white-haired kid, Ban sat patiently with his arms crossed, no fun at all... His interest was peaked when Ryuji pulled out some sort of mysterious beads. He figured they had some sort of purpose, unless he was one of those weird religious freaks who prayed to non-existent gods.

Ban was just opening his mouth to release another taunt when the crater left behind from the giant's fall magically began to repair itself. The only reasonable explanation to this was Ryuji chanting to those odd beads. Huh, had to be some sort of magic or technology, some sort of telekinetic equipment maybe?

The girl who initially approached Ryuji spoke up once again, ignoring Ban for the time being, seemed to be a running trend. He was surprised when she indirectly took a shot at him. Ban raised an eyebrow, little girl had guts, being so disrespectful and all. What was the phrase, respect your elders? What was with these first years thinking they were hot shit all of the sudden? That annoying transfer student must have riled them up with her small upset yesterday.

The only sensible course of action was to quell any sort of confidence these first years had, power came with experience, they really needed to learn that.

"Watch that tongue of yours, you might get just what you wish for," Ban warned.

He figured that would be the end of it but he was wrong once again, the girl held her ground and challenged him confidently.

Ban's confident smile dripped away until he was glaring at Megumi. Was she serious?

"You want to fight me? A rank 37? Are you crazy? Look, I know that transfer student beat someone 10 ranks above her but we're talking about a 37 rank gap here."

Ban caved and gave into his itch to fight, even though he was certain that he would demolish the girl easily.

"Fine, I'll cut you a deal, I'll fight you after the white haired kid and the tall guy spar. Mostly because I've seen neither of them fight, though I heard the white haired kid is ass at it." Deal?

[User]
Kaz didn't smile, but his perpetual stank face was a little less frowny as Ryuji fixed the crater. "Hey. Thanks." He said, nodding. It was nice to see someone in this school cleaning up after themselves. Suddenly, everyone was talking about him. He didn't respond. In fact, he gave no indication he was paying attention at all. Instead, he took his mop and began to wheel it away from the small crowd.

Clack clack clack clack clack clack clack The wheel clattered as he headed for the faucet on the wall of the school. He turned it on, water hissing from the faucet. The bucket was half of his AED. Any water placed in it was treated with a special concoction of chemicals. It cleaned up stains, and left the floors sparkling clean. Unfortunately, it smelled like dead fish, and the fumes made his eyes water. He glanced at the warning on the bucket.

Warning: If the solution made by this bucket comes into contact with eyes, it causes temporary blindness. Ingestion will cause intense, terrifying psychedelic effects.

Party hard!

He'd read it a thousand times before. He turned to the group. That Ban guy was starting to annoy him. His mop burbled, as he dunked it in the water. It looked like he was going to just take it, though. Go back to being dead last.

Then the mop head shot right at Ban's face. It was fast, like a bullet. If it missed him, there was a good chance it'd take out the tree behind him.

"Megumi. Do you know why I asked to join the delinquents?" Kazuya asked, the mop retracting as he twirled it. He stepped closer, bucket clacking behind him. "I'm tired of being weak. Of being told what to do by everyone in school. He then pointed at Ban from across the crowd.

"Shut up and fight. I'll be your opponent." Kazuya said. He was trembling, though even he didn't know whether it was anticipation, excitement or fear. It was the first time he'd challenged anyone, and the first time he'd attacked someone in the school.

[Assistant]
As much as Shin would've liked to ignore the loud commotion at the other end of the courtyard, his curiosity got the better of him and he just had to see what was going on. Of course, he had seen the student jump from the roof and land with a thud. The student had to be alright because there weren't many that were stupid enough to leap off a roof without knowing they would make it unless they were thick in the head. Either way, it would be good to make sure they were alright.

He arrived at the group later than the others and was just in time to see a large student fix the hole he had made where he landed. Before Kawaguchi knew it students were challenging each other to duels which wasn't that unusual but under the circumstances it was a little strange. What made it all the better was it looked like the underclassmen were getting cocky and trying to challenge Ban of all people. That was when he noticed the cheap shot that one of the other students tried on the larger student.

As quick as the student was with his mop, Shin was faster as he grabbed his sword off his back and deflected the direction of the mop. The sword echoed from the contact and started to hum with a low resonance that if allowed to continue would start to cause a headache to those hearing it. "It's not nice to try and strike someone where they aren't prepared. At least show some honor when issuing a challenge." He told the younger student as he kept the sword in his hand but placed his other hand flat across the blade to settle the reverberating.

"Sorry for butting in Ban. I know you can handle yourself but not fair to be struck when your not prepared." He than took a step back as the challenge was thrown out which a smirk on his face as he knew this would be entertaining.


[System]
Alias/Nickname: "BD", "The Guy Chose Friends Can Never Let Him Live a Joke Down"

Appearance: Could be described as handsome, in a scruffy, almost rogueish manner. Decently tall and decently muscled, he's not giant of a man but he is above average in terms of both height and physique. Active lifestyle'll do that for ya. Auburn hair's of middling length, held out of his lively brown eyes by a red-and-orange headband/ bandana / whatever the fuck it's called. Typically garbed in minimalist armor of boiled leather, he makes what he has work, content knowing he'll run into better things down the line if he works hard.

CREDIT TO SPHERE FOR DIGGING UP A PRETTY DAMN NICE PICTURE WHERE I COULD NOT

Age: 23

Race: Human

Personality: Positive, loyal, and perhaps just a bit too hotbloodedly ballsy for his own good, Kleinsmann is one of those guys that does his level best to both look after his own, and keep the overall spirits of those around him high. Despite his roughshod, at times questionable appearance, the young man is honest, cordial, and friendly as the come, if just as rough around the edges in his words as he is in his looks. A jokester (at times leaning into "smartass" territory), he'll just as often do something he feels he can get away with because it's funny as he will something necessary. Despite this, he will rarely stoop to something outright malicious, instead having a generous and honest desire to help those in need. At times, a bit dense and too straightforward. Depending on how you look at him, he's anything from your typical bro, to your typical annoyance, to possibly even your typical liability. Of course, if you ask him he's really only the first one of those. C'mon, man, would this guy lie to you?

Probably not.

Biography/history: A son of a small town a decent way outside of Angel's Landing, Otto was the ringleader (or closest equivalent thing) to a band of six friends, sometimes just a group of kids horsing around, sometimes closer to a bunch of little ruffians. Really depended on the day, and what was going on in town. They were never ones to back down from a brawl, after all. Sticking close together all through adolescence and well into young adulthood, they began to, as a group, plan for adventure, struck by mutual wanderlust and a desire to chase dreams, to become larger than life legends that one day would inspire boys just like themselves.

In short, it didn't pan out so simply. His mother falling terribly ill even as he was nursing off an injury he normally would have just soldiered through on his own, they were forced to come to a meeting and make a hard decision.

Where six planned to embark from town, only five were able to actually do so. With Big Johnny as the de facto leader, the band of brothers cast themselves out into the world to chase glory, to chase dreams, at Kleinsmann's behest. After all, there was no sense in him selfishly holding everyone else back, right?

Months later, himself and his mother now fully healed, Otto Kleinsmann set off on a quest of his own.

And he has catching up to do.

Reason for recruitment: To get an opportunity to find his party of friends again, to do good (fending off evil is all kinds of good), to grow stronger as both a fighter and person, to be a knight like he always heard of in stories as a kid.

Strength of Will: Unnatural

Magic: None thus far, has a decent yet undiscovered affinity for force magic, particularly involving fire.

God relations: Minor affinity with the Elemental Lord of Fire, unbeknownst to him. Beyond that, not much.

Tech: Laptop, Phone, Basic model Vibroblade.

Possessions/items/property: A simple red headband with orange stripes running across, a basic design that apparently means a lot to him and thusly, always stays on his person. It supposedly has five cousins somewhere in the rest of the world.

Skills: Swordsmanship: Otto is a self-taught swordsman that has somehow, through what could only be avidly watched netvids, practice, half-fucking-around-half-actually-sparring-with-friends, and sheer dumb luck, managed to learn his way around a blade well enough to be considered "not half bad".

Unarmed Martial Arts: Where he really shines in combat, despite defaulting to his sword whenever possible (dude! It's a freakin' sword!) Otto is a longtime veteran of brawls as a kid, and a big fan of the fighting arts, enough that between being in plenty of fights himself as a kid and eventually learning both striking and grappling from an old, one-eyed monk. This leaves him skilled and educated enough to defeat almost anybody you throw his way that isn't an expert or above in their own right.

Cooking: Dude's surprisingly facile in the kitchen and can easily follow a recipe. Chalk it up to culinary classes in school.

Survival: Is familiar with multitude of survival skills, thanks to having formerly been the planned leader of an adventuring party with all of his old friends. Silly though they are, they aren't dumb enough to not read up on what they'd need to know.

Misc: Theme song ideas :

Maybe this, this, or this

You pick for yourself, dear reader.

[User]
Testing The Waters

Krayzikk

Day 1, Morning

"Delta, show me my pending cases." A neat list of indexed files flitted into view within Justin's field of vision, just transparent enough to avoid obstructing his vision, but solid enough to be easily read. As useful as the tech was, the command was pointless. He already knew the state of his work load. Checking it when he woke up was something of a morning ritual, and he hasn't been awake very long. Enough to dress and brew a good, strong cup of coffee. He sipped at it as he looked over the list one more time anyway, checking for anything he might have missed. Not because he had missed anything, or even because he thought he had. Just because he was bored. There were only two active cases, a theft and an extortion. He had already tracked the thief down and sent both the evidence and his coordinates to the police, so he was just awaiting a confirmation so he could close the file. Delta would send a request for payment to the client automatically once he did, cutting that step out of his schedule. The other was a waiting game, too, though for different reasons. He had baited his trap, he was just waiting for them to bite.

But none of this was alleviating his boredom. Such a small list should have been a good thing. Fewer cases meant fewer people needing his services, which meant fewer crimes, which meant greater order and justice. All things he actively strove for. But without anything else, he was at a loss for anything to amuse himself with. Nor was his environment helping. His new quarters in the Tower, graciously provided by the Knights upon his recruitment, were quite comfortable. Sizable enough to avoid feelings confinement, and well-furnished enough to be pleasant. Their occupants were of course expected to tailor their environment to their liking, but Justin hadn't yet gone to the effort. He was staying, for the most part, to grow accustomed to the Tower and the people who dwelt within it. His loft wasn't far away and he knew he would have been more content sleeping there.

If he was going to work with the Knights, he needed to know them. He reminded himself of that just as the coffee in his mug ran out, as if a sign from the heavens. A nudge out the door. The investigator sighed, setting the mug on the table next to his chair and pushing himself to his feet. He didn't bother with anything more in the way of preamble before heading towards the door, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

"Clear view. Delta, lock laptop. Full encryption." A soft beep was the system's only reply. The only reply it ever gave, actually, given that Delta was nothing more than sophisticated voice command system. True AI weren't unheard of, but far outside of his price range. Delta was perfectly well-tailored to his needs. His footsteps carried him easily out into the hall, and he was already committing all the details he saw to memory while he locked the door. Getting around the Tower wasn't hard, though he hadn't exactly seen all of it. Or most of it. Whatever had been needed for his recruitment, and that was about it.

Perhaps it was time to explore. Maybe see if he was needed for anything more.

[Assistant]
Shadow Play
Themerlinhawk
Day 1, Morning

Ralrisk bounced the knife off of her desk leaving another ding in the surface as it flipped through the air and stuck in the wall. "This is stupid, there is no reason for me to be here why is Chris being such a hard ass about this. No one comes to see me and I have work to do" "I can provide your documents so you may continue planning for your missions if you wish but Shard has insisted you be present today for the next 12 hours." Senechal stood off to the side of the doorway. Ralrisk frowned "Whatever"

"Display new from last night and run through the new episodes for my holo dramas would you? At least I can catch up on something interesting."

Ralrisk kicked her feet up on the desk and leaned back to watch while she waited out her twelve hours in purgatory for her.

[User]
Pandora's Box

Wind Wild

Ludelle

Day 1, Morning

Another second passed. Another second of my life that I'm never getting back. So far I'd counted three thousand fifty two. Fifty three. Fifty four.... I grumbled at the ridiculousness of my endeavour and stopped. Surely there must be more useful ways to spend your time, even in confinement. Like trying to escape, you'd suggest? Ha. I'm pretty sure it's the first thing on anyone's mind. Including the people who actually design your cell for you right before they lock you in it.

I'd already tried everything I could think of. Brute force was out of the question: there was nothing around that I could break off and swing at the bars. Magic was also useless. Not because the Blind fool had abandoned me... which he had... but because even though I could still feel the magic inside myself, the leather-like skin that was bestowed upon me didn't let it out. I'd spent hours feeling my surroundings when my eyesight was rendered useless. Hours spent trying to find the sensation of metal or electricity under my fingers that I could influence. Nothing. I could feel the unmistakable cold but only on a purely physical level. So what was left for me to do except for counting the seconds or remembering my past? I definitely wasn't doing the latter.

I nested my head between my knees and flinched when the long inhuman beak hit the floor. Imprisoned. In a prison, in a cell, in a foreign body, not even the skin or face my own. If it was mere clothes it would have been better. Surely there would be the consolation that at least I'm still myself. As things were, I wasn't. Even that was taken away from me. Everything was taken away from me, even my awareness. For a person such as me, used to always being in the loop, it was particularly scary to not even know where I am. Not even knowing how long I've been here.

I should have kept count of the days. But how do you tell the days when there's no light? My meals are not regular. I haven't been out since I came here. Everyone around me is quiet – is there even anyone around? I wish there was commotion around. Voices, shouts, anything. Anything but the dreadful, suffocating silence that went hand in hand with impending death.

There was only one thing I had left. My dignity. The knowledge that whatever the charges were, they didn't have enough evidence to execute me straight away. The knowledge that I had covered my tracks well enough to buy me at least another day. The bitter-sweet knowledge that the reason they were so terribly harsh with how they treated me is because they knew I wouldn't break easily.... They say knowledge is power. I used to agree, and deep down still do but knowledge wasn't power in this case. It was power enough to keep me alive. But not power enough to get me out of here. And did such a power even exist...?

[Assistant]
Man of the Rising Sun

HereComesTheSnow

Day 1, Morning

Blinds were, if utilized correctly, invaluable tools to the late riser. Allowing for protection against the early rays of morning, they could help one who had stayed up late or was simply obstinately not a morning person extend their period of slumber for a couple of hours, which, in sleep time, was almost always invaluable. By artificially maintaining the darkness of the room, they could keep the inherently wakeful light away from the lidded retinas of the occupant in question, which would in turn help them continue to sleep.

Seriously, people's eyes respond to that stuff, no matter how poorly the narration explains it. Case in point being:

One Otto Kleinsmann had evidently not been trained in proper and correct utilization of blinds. And as one might expect, a glorious golden ray of sunshine lanced through the crack offered to it in the window's defenses, casting itself upon his sleeping face with wild abandon. To his credit, his fortitude against the dawn was not one-note-- a scrunching of the face, a repositioning of the body; adequate steps to remain inertly unconscious were taken.

However, it was too still too little, and still too late. The movement had actually served to wake him up more, getting the blood moving and brain working, so to speak.

"Wuuuugggggh..." he groaned, blearily sitting upright in the comfortable little bed issued to all residents of the Tower's dormitories. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes for something resembling a full 90 seconds before checking the clock. Still blurry, and unfocused to boot.

Whatever. "Too early"'s good enough. he groused internally, hauling himself out of bed as soon as blood was flowing past his patellas. Really needed to curb that whole "sleeping on a leg" thing...

One short shower that cleared his mind and sinuses later, and he was at his sink, dutifully brushing away at his teeth before breakfast like any respectably raised young man, when the world reminded him that it wasn't done just yet. He'd set his alarm early by mistake, and had forgotten it was even on at all when woken up extra early by the sun, which resulted in--

AMADOU-amadouuuuu

A majestic spray of mint flavored foam splattered into the bowl of the sink, and a loudly uttered profanity followed soon after as the young man beat his alarm into submission. Today had the makings of...

"Well, something... interesting." he concluded some time later, after carefully avoiding any more surprises as he finished his morning routine. Affixing the sheathed HF-Blade upon his back via magical future technology (read: a simple leather belt), Otto stepped out of the door and into the halls, intent on locating the most crucial thing for any man in the morning:

Breakfast.


[System]
Age:22

Gender: Female

Race: Nem

Appearance:

(As above, but with rounder ears! Though her hair is naturally black, she dyes it pink to stand out. A merchant's most powerful weapon is being remembered. In addition, on the occasion she needs to go outside during the day, she wears a cute, floral, wide-brimmed hat)

Personality: Sweet, caring, and good-natured on the outside. Calculating and selfish on the inside. Lirrah does what she can for the people she likes, and everyone else is scarcely a concern of hers. She has no particular investment in Velt or Ithillin aside from the knowledge that brewing hostilities are a good business venture. It would be easy to label her as another amoral war profiteer, but it's hard to make the title stick when she's personally serving hot meals to the folks on the borderlands (for a fee, of course). In any case, she is outgoing, personable, and really lays on the cute. Cute is good for business.

Brief Backstory: Born into a humble family of sweets-makers with three older brothers and three older sisters, it would be no exaggeration to say that Lirrah was the baby of the family. If she wanted acknowledgement, she had to work for it. Whether she had to lie or exaggerate or even shout, she was always yapping in order to get attention.

From a young age, this served her well, though it got on her siblings' nerves. She learned how to cook, and was quite talented, but her gift of gab often had her strutting the sand to entice customers instead. She and her family's trade became so well-known through her raw, extroverted moxie that she was considered by many to be the unofficial mascot of the store. She and her family's brand of sweets soon became inseparable.

For most attention-seekers, this amount of notoriety would be enough to live a lifetime, but Lirrah wanted more. Her cries yearned to reach more ears. She wanted to say something that the entire known world would one day need to listen to.

On her sixteenth birthday, people came from settlements all around to celebrate her. It was at this moment that she decided to cash in all the affection and goodwill she had earned from a lifetime of honeyed words as sweet as the ripest melon juice. She wanted to leave the village, and travel north. For that purpose, she collected many investors and partners who would fund and stock her caravan, with no proof of success other than the borderline disgusting amount of aplomb with which she conducted herself.

Everyone likes sweets.

Her network was enormous. The affection that everyone had for her was overflowing. And flow it did, into coins and goods and equipment that would enable her desire to reach north. As far northward as she could go… so far, and so high, that even she could look down at the world despite her people's relatively short stature.

It took a while, of course, to get everything ready. But within a few years, funds and equipment in hand, she reached Velt. This was only going to be her first stop, but it would be a profitable one. She had weapons to feed into the growing fires of hostility, and Nem glasswork and art pieces to appeal to nobles who wanted to show off how world-wise they were and who had more money than sense. With her charms, and the situation to her advantage, it was almost impossible to fail. She made a killing when she finally arrived and, happy with the numbers, decided to move onto Ithillin. What happened when everything boiled over wasn't important. What was important was making her money off both sides and getting out, continuing to reach ever northward.

The situation was not exactly as it was described to her.

The conflict was practically already happening, and the borderlands were almost a war zone, with skirmishes and bandits and monsters out in force. Lirrah learned this when she picked the most reasonably under-staffed point on the border to make her trip, and found her caravan surrounded by marauders. Though she could shoot a bow (her home village was small enough that everyone needed to learn), she was not a real fighter. Her hired muscle fell quickly to the deluge of bandits, and she was soon surrounded.

She didn't want her ambition to end there, but what could she do?

Then, the Lions roared.

Routed efficiently to the last, the bandits went from an overwhelming bellow to a simpering swan song within moments. Lirrah explained the situation to the Lions, embellishing to make herself seem less opportunistic, and she soon learned that things were more dire between the two nations than she had imagined.

A caravan cannot move north through a river of blood. Even avoiding everything else, the upcoming conflict could capture her supply chain and leave her stranded. There was nothing else for it. Thinking quickly, she talked her way into a mutually beneficial exclusivity contract with Velt during wartime. Her supply chain would be useful, and she could set up shop personally among the group that had helped her. Until the war was over, she would need to hold out. She didn't want to pick sides initially, but as it turned out, a side picked her.

Equipment: A diverse array of highly saleable wares! Within reason, of course. The art objects get sold far before they reach Lirrah, because warriors on the frontline have little need for such things. If there's something specific a soldier wants, however, she can usually get it in a week or so depending on rarity. She stocks generic weapons, along with some more interesting exotic weapons from her homeland. Nem bows, especially, are in high demand. With the ever-present threat of skirmishes, she stocks a ridiculous amount of healing potions. More high-end wares include enchanted rings and brooches, with a variety of protective effects, and even magical weapons. Nem alcohol is, to most, a novelty, but she gets enough requests from those who have taken to it to keep it in stock (and to drink herself).

When out and about, she carries a bow and a good supply of potions, as well as a few explosive flasks and acid bombs. She has an enchanted hat that cools her and gives her a lot of shade, though seeing beyond the immediate bound of that shade is still difficult as a Nem. Mostly it makes travel during daytime much more comfortable.

Skills:

Diplomancer: Lirrah is very good at talking to people, and even getting them to agree to things they normally wouldn't. She's that charming! She's a natural in any environment, from swanky party to seedy bar. She can lie as naturally as she breathes, and can make herself the center of attention with little effort. Conversely, during a combat encounter, she can turn up her cute and helpless act such that most reasonable enemies wouldn't target her unless they had no other choice. Very helpful as a merchant!

Swift: Lirrah is dexterous, agile, and quick on her feet. On the rare occasion she can't talk or act her way out of danger, she can usually escape it. Her sight, mainly in the dark, is immensely keen. She's good with a bow, though aiming far away is difficult for her during the day. She's practiced enough with the sling to fling dangerous flasks many feet away. Fast hands are useful in the kitchen, and she's also quite good at sewing and knitting.

Gourmand: Lirrah is an excellent cook. She's best at dishes from her home country, but picks up new cuisine quickly as well. Sometimes, the difference between a dead soldier and a living one is a happily-fed belly. She's especially gifted at desserts, which she can make at the level of a genius patissier. She can only make so many to her exacting standards day to day, that they run out quickly. People have gotten into fistfights over the strawberry shortcake!

[User]
@Crimson Paladin

---

Hraesleg Lions Base Camp

---

Val had make her way back to the base camp, not too far behind Hector. Though he had a flying mount and should logically have faster maneuverability, she was quite confident in her own agility in slithering among the tree branches. Arriving back, she looked toward the largest tent in the camp. Velvetica would soon call for her subordinates to regroup there and report their findings. She quickly made her way there, seeing her other allies following suit. She honestly was still a bit nervous in working with so many people from different backgrounds, but Vel would push those thoughts to the side for now.

Convening in her tent, Valmyra had looked intently at their leader. She had already met Velvetica once before, when she personally came to her rebuilt village and recruited her. She was smaller in stature than most, and even more so compared to a lamia like Val. Despite this, her presence came with an undeniable authority and reliability that a seasoned leader would naturally give off. Besides, Val was not one to give assumptions based on another's appearance. As a lamia, she could tower over everyone in the room, depending on how she coiled her lower body. In this case, she did just that, but only because she didn't want to take up too much standing room. She blushed with a bit of bashfulness, not wanting to have drawn too much attention to herself.

She listened as the griffon rider gave his report. "While I was there to observe as well, my near-sightedness prevented me from being able to properly see the effigies" She said. "Thankfully, Hector and his steed didn't have that problem." It didn't even occur to her that she could be getting the man's name wrong.

Apparently, the signs they saw indicate several different things. The leader didn't think that it was the work of bandits, or due to Ithillin criminals. Val's eyes narrowed with a predatory rage at the mention of that nation. She won't be forgetting what an attack from their warriors took from her. Velvetica told the group that the perpetrators were likely cultists, those who worshiped fell spirits. The thought of such people caused a sick feeling to well up inside Valmyra's stomach. She'd never understand what could lead a person to follow such a wretched faith.

"Just give word, and my lance will be at your ready."

[Assistant]
Gisela

"A briefing? Sounds boring, call me if a fight starts," the demon announced when everyone started gathering, turning to look at the merchant, "Or if you can get another one of those pastries."

With that, she turned around and... well, seemingly just stepped forward. But, as if passing through an invisible doorway, she disappeared without any trace of having been there in the first place. It was always quite an odd sight to see, for the Hundi, because it didn't work anything like the teleportation magic she knew existed. There, you either had to move yourself via magic, or establish a stable connection first... both of which were highly visible.

Demons didn't really obey the same rules as mortals did, so it was only to be expected.

At the briefing, the mage did her best to stay small and out of the way, especially once the actual threat was described. No, she had nothing to do with the raising of the dead... but she was a necromancer in practice, even if it was the legal, healing-oriented side of it. Better to not get the attention of so many armed and armoured soldiers whilst everyone was consumed by outrage. She might need to talk to Velvetica afterwards, though--

--She might not be able to raise undead, but when it came to putting them down again, there were few people who had more options available.


[System]
Real World Character
Age: 24

Gender: Female

Appearance: Somewhat tall at 6' even, and a rather thin build due to high metabolism and lack of physical exercise, as well as being quite pale.

Short Bio:

For Cheryl, life was always about a fight. Sadly, she never was really good at fighting like how it usually would be in the streets, which led her to sequester herself in her room most days. A small gig doing gunsmithing on the black market with an old combat vet showing her how it's done helped pay her bills in the American mega city, but she always needed an escape. Books, movies, music, and eventually video games. Making friends with some of the bootleggers peddling video games like moonshine came to in her favor when she got a hold of Gun Burst Online, and she soon found herself extremely sick and tired of the North American server, as it was half the time dead and the other half saw the same roving band of players running around and wiping the floor with anyone they saw.

Cheryl was able to get her version and console spoofed and allowed her to connect and log in to the Japanese server while also giving her a translator for audio that would show up as subtitles on her HUD. This finally let Cheryl begin to hone her skills, and start leveling up her character. While still at the lower levels, there were some things you didn't need to level up to get skilled in. Cheryl learned how to tune her senses, wait for the right moments, and be aware of her surroundings. Eventually she broke down and bought the "Hell in the Jungle" pack that was chock full of old Vietnam style gear. She always had a soft spot for history and a respect for the classics, and she got as much in-game currency to do it as she could manage before paying the rest of it out of pocket.

With more room to practice and more people to fight, it wasn't long before Cheryl had begun to make a name for herself as a solo operator. It helped that she had a personal library chock full of old war stories and even some old US Army handbooks on things like Counter-Insurgency and Small Unit Tactics. Her usage of hand signals is well-known by those who have fought with her on occasion, along with her usage of quick text orders.

Gun Burst Online Character

Name: Leadslinger

Gender: Female

Appearance: 6' 2" and a more muscular build than her player's

Level: 44

Specs:
- Fast Aim 1
- Improved Reflexes 1
- Improved Strength 1

Signature Weapon/Combat Style: Colt M16A1 with detachable M7 bayonet to be utilized in close quarters. Adept at night fighting and jungle warfare.

Inventory:
- US Army style Vietnam era olive drab jungle fatigues with EDRL "Low-lands" camouflage pattern helmet cover
- US M1 Helmet with late-war liner
- M69 Flak Jacket
- M17A1 Gas Mask
- Vietnam era pistol belt and suspenders with ammo pouches, holster, and canteen
- Colt M16A1 with "67" written in blue marker on the receiver
- Colt M1911A1
- M7 Bayonet with scabbard
- 2 M76 Frag grenades
- 1 M34 White Phosphorous grenade
- Camo paint
- Music module
- 4,000 Credits
- 10 Crystals

Skills:

- Gunsmithing 1000
- First Aid 1000
- Assault Rifle Proficiency 1000
- Handgun Proficiency 500
- Bayonet and Knife Proficiency 200
- Stealth 150
- Salvaging 200

Sample post:

Branches whipped by at an alarming pace as Leadslinger beat feet in a dead sprint. Behind her was a a three-man team out for blood. Her blood. She had popped one of their friends who she suspected had been stalking her and now she was finding out that she really hated fighting alone, even if she was good at it. Well, she had to be good at it. No one could really communicate effectively with her to pick up on a team fight so she had to make due on her own. A lone wolf. Well, the wolf was on the run now. But the wolf had a few tricks up her sleeve...

After a few minutes, she stopped and hunkered down behind a tree. She worked on calming her heart rate and catching her breath as she looked all around her. It was night. Good. She could operate well in the night, and the forest she had run into served to really hide her shadow. She just had to focus. It wasn't long before she heard the crunch and snap of leaves and twigs. The team was closing in, and she saw the subtitles of their talking on her HUD.

"Spread out and find her! I want her dead for what she did to Tanaka!"

"Yes sir!"

What she "did" was self-defense, but these didn't sound like the kind of guys that could be reasoned with. She sighed as she drank from her canteen and then put it back in its pouch. She then took the M7 bayonet out from its scabbard on her belt and affixed onto the end of the lug on the A-frame of her M16A1. With the sounds of footfalls getting louder, she knew they were getting close. But they were at least somewhat smart. The middle man was letting his teammates on the flanks push ahead of him in a sort of V formation. That was going to make it difficult, even more so if these guys had NVGs. She didn't see it, but no one could be sure.

Leadslinger listened as she planned her engagement. She could...no, she would take these guys out in one fell swoop. She had to. One twenty round magazine would be fine on semi-auto, but she was going to have to fire bursts and that would run the thing dry damn quick. She took a deep breath as she heard the footsteps now directly on either side of her. Do or die time.

The woman who looked like she stepped right out of the late 60's stood up and sighted on where she heard one of the crunches of leaves to her right and sprayed a long burst. In the light of her muzzle flashes, she saw the man go down. Not enough time to confirm the kill; She swung to the left while keeping the stock tucked into her shoulder and sprayed another long burst behind her. She walked the bullets across the way and cut down the second man. Now that just left one last guy. She popped out from the tree and emptied the rest of the magazine in his general direction. Sadly, with her position, she couldn't gauge exactly where he was like the others. So the fire was meant to suppress more than kill.

But, in the same manner, she saw the night light up and watched the guy duck behind another tree. There was no time to reload or else she'd be caught up in a prolonged gun fight, and she didn't want to deal with that at night. Too much could go wrong. So she put her rifle down at her hip, grabbed the handguard and stock firmly, and rushed out from behind the tree. The last man stepped out from behind his position to sight her in but he was too late on the draw. She had already closed the gap, and he had presented himself as a target for her. The bayonet sunk into his gut as she rammed into him with enough force to knock him to the ground. He didn't have time to try to get back up before she took the rifle up and used the butt-end of the stock to bash his face. A quick stab into the heart and it was over.

The scene was a bit grizzly as Leadslinger went to each individual and made sure the were no longer a threat and then left them there. It was done, and she was heading to the nearest populated settlement to bed down for the night. Hopefully without anymore trouble, as she nonchalantly slapped a new magazine into her rifle and smacked the bolt release. She activated her music module and listened to a song as she walked with the map.

[User]
---

A rush of Schadenfreude had a smirk tug at Roche's lips when their sprint into conflict was curtailed by an ambush that as inaccurate as it was obnoxious. A hailstorm of high caliber rounds pinged off the metalwork around them and Roche was quick to dive forward and roll into cover, her shoulder roughly crashing against it and sticking close to minimize her profile. Casting her eyes around she was quick to notice Kanna doing the same, while Ryuko took to cover with significantly less...poise

"And there goes Lemon Soda. He's going...going....and safe. Must have the devil's luck about him." She opined before ducking back behind cover as bullets pinged off rusted metal with renewed vigor. Roche shook her head to clear the faint ringing, only to realize that was actually Gudako's screams for help, bastardization of Roche's handle included. "You know damn well it's not Roach."

Regardless of the appropriate time for chewing out her friends stubborn habits of annoyance this really was a situation well suited for her particular weapon. From the shores of Normandy to the jungles of Vietnam, there were few incentives as effective as a horrible burning death via jellied fuel to get an enemy to flee their fortifications straight into gunfire.

"Alright, the shooting is about to stop in five seconds. Get ready for a shooting gallery." Roche shouted over the gunfire before judging the attack and making a break for the next closest piece. In truth she didn't care for the position but the movement itself made her a slightly harder target without affecting her own ability to attack. The advantage of a one handed weapon shown as her gauntlet aimed just overhead of the machine gun nest. Clenching her fist triggered a pressure plate which unleashed a torrent of flame upon the crane. Having very little time to saturate the area she slashed her arm diagonally upwards before releasing the trigger and barreling into safety, covering the crane from the base upwards in raging fire.

"That's your cue to start shooting everyone."

[Assistant]
"I don't know, but it looks more like they are the type who doesn't tolerate your face. I mean, you look like the kind of person who drags a crowd of haters behind you whenever you go. If you know what I mean," ICEY said in a somewhat sarcastic voice. She didn't mean to actually berate Gudako, but having some fun wasn't going to kill them, was it?

Well, maybe it would on Lemon's case. But his idea of fun seemed to be pretty extreme already, putting his head on the block might just add to it. That said, ICEY took the opportunity created by Roche to zip towards another cover where she could get a better view of the opposing team using a mirror, taking note of how they scattered around, breaking their suppression fire, thanks to the flames forcing them out of their defensive position. "If I were a trigger-happy brat that's totally not trying to compensate for something else, what kind of gun would I use in a team such as this one?" ICEY said to herself as she tried to think of the possibilities until something obvious came to her.

"I can't be sure about it, but I guess that the last of them isn't up there because they may be using something even heavier that's impractical to wield on higher ground. In that case, they may as well be buying time for their friend to— Called it!" ICEY shouted, interrupting her brief explanation to throw a smoke grenade behind Gudako. "Get out of there if you don't want to become Swiss cheese," she yelled before opening fire at a heavily armored avatar that was slowly rounding the corner of one of the many piles of scrap behind their team, while the minigun in their hands began to produce the characteristic whirl that preceded a hail of deadly lead, aimed at Gudako's back.

---

Meanwhile, the battle at the Assembly was getting more and more heated up with each passing second.

Grave Trench's disoriented attack would fail to connect to its target. Since SHOUSUKE expected some kind of reaction from his mark, be it a blind spray of bullets or physical retaliation, he was ready to avoid it, throwing himself on the floor to roll under the swing while taking the chance to deal a slash aimed at Grave Trench's side. Falling to the ground would prove to not be a wise move either as it opened the chance for SHOUSUKE to chain a second strike, this time a low, reverse roundhouse kick, converting the momentum from his roll into pure striking force, meant to hit Grave Trench like a hammer blow that would be much harder to avoid now that he was prone.

On another side of the room, AmyLee and MESH finished dispatching the remnants of the third team in the area, before turning to assist GRDaze and SHOUSUKE. The machine gun-wielding avatar positioned herself behind a pile of metal crates, opening suppressive fire at Clementine and Kiss❤Shot while her shotgun friend went to help GRDaze, after the later was knocked down to the ground by the exaggerated attack coming from Kiss❤Shot. MESH kept a couple of smoke grenades at standby, just in case the reckless girl had any thoughts to do it again. She judged that even people like the other team wouldn't be dumb enough to use explosive weapons while completely blind. At least if they were in this tournament to win, instead of just to create chaos.


[System]
Age: 47

Gender: Male

Appearance:

Home: Northern Virginia

Skills:
Guns
Repair
Survival
Melee

Background: A semi-local drifter. Achilles' parents were raiders, and worse, they were well read raiders. They thought they were better than most people out there, less ignorant. But they were just as violent. Achilles grew up as part of a wave of children named from characters from various ancient epics. Growing up was bloody and even the children followed the rule of survival of the fittest. Achilles was somewhere in the middle of the food chain, but he held up among the bigger and stronger children by being more resilient than most. When he was a teenager he was involved in raids, and that was how he was separated from his tribe.
They ambushed the wrong caravan, and lost the fight. Achilles survived, as he always did, but was left to die in the waste. He was picked up by the next passing caravan, who didn't realize who he was. He never said, but took the kindness and has been living his life paying it forward since then. He wanders around, doing odd jobs, usually wet work. He tries to work for "good guys" but sometimes it's hard to tell.

Equipment: The clothes on his back, a 44 revolver and a lever action rifle. A canteen for water, a utility knife.

Other:

[User]
Kitten turned to regard the man as Davis returned with her drink and the carton of Fixer. The name Jack Cobalt was familiar and it took her dulled mind an extra few seconds to to make the connection with his reputation. Three Dog was always talking about him. 'Wait he just said that, didn't he...' She picked up the glass and drained it in a single mouthful before picking up the carton of addiction pills and reading the box.

"You wanna hire me as a merc?" She asked a little doubtfully. Usually people hired Kitten because they had no choice, not because they actually wanted to. "Well as long as you have caps I'll do whatever you want me to..." She turned the box over and started reading the back. "...I'm Kitten." She mumbled as she focused on the words. Apparently the pills were for people who wanted to detox and get over additions quickly, good for helping people stop using Chems. Only Kitten didn't want to stop. When she stopped the memories started coming back. She suppressed a sudden shudder and reflexively reached for one of the Med-X syringes on her belt but stopped herself. Even she realized that mixing Chems was a bad idea, not to mention that she had to make them last until she could visit the local dealer.

She turned and handed the box of pills to Jack, giving him a weak smile. "I appreciate your concern, but it's better for everyone if you just leave it alone..." Really it was just better for her. "I'll still work for you, though."

[Assistant]
Jack sighed looking the girl over. "I need someone who can fight and follow orders, fixer holds off the addiction. Takes about a week of use to help you get over it. Point is I don't mind the drugs just use them when you need them rather for a high. Fixer will also let you travel with me, help spread out hits.""I got the caps Kitten, be ready. Were going after that big stuff." He said ominously turning to greet the two new men having a seat beside them.

Jack smiled looked them both over quickly, they were ones alright. He'd told the sheriff about a stash of guns some raiders had found, The sheriff decided to find someone to deal with it. "Davis put there drinks on my tab." Davis sighed handing both men there drinks.

The bartender sighed."You realize that on your tab I owe you money right?"

Jack smiled. "Yep." He turned to both the men with a smile. "I'm guy Three Dog keeps calling the vault dweller, I was the one who reported the raider armory. You two find anything good? I'm a weapons tech, be willing to fix it up for free." He told them as Davis brought there drinks over.

[User]
(To be read in the voice of J.K. Simmons)
"Well, how're yall doin' out there? This is Jimmany Christmas from Carolina Panther Radio. I know you all like how that hack from DC has managed to get his signal all the way down here, but trust me, he doesn't know what's going on down here. Well, Today, the Enclave have stepped up their patrols and have been taking buildings left right and center. But trust me, Mr Gallows of the Panther Empire has assured everyone that the Enclave will never gain access to the Bank of America fortress. Power Armoured thugs are no match for the Gladiators of the Empire... Plus, we have a LOT of Missile Launchers, try to get past that, hahaha, you're funeral. You know what, I dare you. Those helmets are kinda cool and I could use one on my desk. Alright, time for a song, Ol' Blue Eyes may have been dead for almost 300 years, but he still brings a tear to the eyes of many. If I had things my way, we'd all be sipping Nuka Cola's on a beach with not a Mirelurk in sight... But, looks like Frankie's gonna have it his."

The three walked along the dusty road towards New Charlotte, Katty, Fluffy and Grunk. Grunk held Fluffy in his arms and stroked his head, the rat squeaked. But, suddenly rolled and writhed until he wriggled out of the large green arms. It then sniffed the ground, before running towards a ruined gas-station. "Nigel, Fluffy smells something!" Grunk called to Katty, the two followed after him and pushed into the station. All that was there was a few Radroaches and a load of empty bottles, as well as a streak of blood along the floor. Fluffy sat, eating a dead Radroach, Katty approached him and stroked his head "Good boy." she said, then drew her pistol and shot another Radroach. She then walked over to the ruined cash register and opened it. A few rolls of pre-war money. Not much, but some traders collected them. She then looked behind her at the shelf and saw a few packets of cigarettes. Another luxury that would sell well. She pocketted them.

"Found anything, Grunk?" she called. There was a familiar pop and hiss that indicated that Grunk had found a Nuka Cola. "How many?"

"1... 2... umm..."

"3, sweety." she replied. "Remember numbers." She sighed, she knew that his impaired mental abilities were thanks to her experiments on him, but she was determined to stop him from going feral, like the yellow ones up north, or those of the Master from back on the East Coast that she had heard of.

"3... 4... 5... 5, there's 5." he called. She followed the blood trail from the entrance to the corpse of the man that Grunk was scavanging off of.

"Poor bastard." she mumbled. "He's not been here too long, Rigger has set in, but he's not decomposing... But the Roaches have started eating him..." She grabbed a bottle of Nuka-Cola and held it to her head. "Warm..." she grumbled, before opening it and taking a few sips. She then snapped her fingers so that Fluffy would come to her, she scratched him behind the ear "Good boy." she then opened another bottle and put the opening in his mouth, pouring it down his throat, he drank all he could, but with a lack of lips, unfortunately, most of it went all over the floor. He still seemed to purr with delight, though. "Alright, let's get going. Whoever killed this guy could be close."

"Alright, Nigel." replied Grunk, as they went outside. Katty looked at the gas pumps and then grabbed a rusted canister that lent against the wall before walking to the pump and putting the nozzel into the canister. She pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.

"Well..." she said, looking up at Grunk "It was worth a try. I can only imagine how much actual coolant fluid would have gone for at market." She got up and stretched, before the continued to walk down the road.

[Assistant]
Achilles lifted a glass to the vault dweller, but shook his head. "Was all good old fashioned powder guns. Sheriff's got a guy can fix them. And I can keep my own in true. Well..." he reached into his jacket and pulled a little fully automatic pistol from a shoulder holster. "Got this 'chine pistol won't repeat. I can keep the action smooth on my lever and my 'volver, but I'm no good with repeaters." He put it down on the bar top, but when Jack reached for it, he put his hand over to block him. Achilles gave him an uncharacteristically shrewd look.

"You just like fixing things, or there's something 'sides caps you want from me?"


[System]
Age: 26

Social Class: Prole

Employment: Freelance Engineer

Skills and abilities:* Being a highly skilled engineer, Jacoby can use the technology around him to the advantage of himself and to the disadvantage of his enemies.
* Tinkering is a hobby of his. As a result, Jacoby can construct a wide variety of homemade weapons and gadgets at a minute's notice.
* While he's no stealth master, Jacoby has a way of not being seen by those he doesn't want to be seen by.
* He isn't a pro at parkour either, but that doesn't mean Jacoby can't climb a drain pipe and run the rooftops should the need arise.
* No matter the situation, be it playing cards or running from guards, luck always seems to be on Jacoby's side.

Equipment:* 1 Skeleton Key (A small contraption of Jacoby's design that can open any lock.)
* 1 Deck of Playing Cards With Ridiculously Sharp Edges (Useful for a fight or a impromptu game of cards.)
* 1 Plethora of Tools (Because what good is an engineer without tools?)
* 1 Top Hat and Goggles Combo (Welcome to the steampunk genre.)
* 1 Steam Powered Pistol (Self defense the steampunk way.)
* 1 Steam Powered Bird Automaton Named Sir Geoffrey the Impeccable (Animal sidekicks the steampunk way.)

General Back Story: For a Prole, Jacoby gets by better than most. He avoided the cold city streets by taking up residence in the bell tower of a derelict cathedral, lived off the birds that he caught in his bird traps, and made money by offering his services as an engineer to people who needed 1. While not the perfect existence, it was certainly better than what less fortunate Proles had. At the beginning of the RP, Jacoby found himself called called to the home of Earl Ligthfeather to fix some of his steamdroids.

Appearance:
(Jacoby)

(Sir Geoffrey the Impeccable)

[User]
Cornelia was desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood from Anne's chest when a red-haired Technocrat-Lady Callaghan, Cornelia recalled, dimly remembering that Lady Enright had mentioned her before the ball-approached her, bringing a doctor along with her. "Excuse me miss...I don't know if your friend is still...but I have brought assistance. She will be in the best of hands," she said. It took Cornelia a moment to realize that Lady Callaghan was speaking directly to her; most Technocrats would not even deign to glance at somebody like Cornelia, let alone address her by anything other than "girl" or "wench". Cornelia was even more surprised when Lady Callaghan gently moved her hands aside and was stunned for a second before stiffening instinctively and then relaxing again. Casting her eyes around the room, Cornelia could see medical personnel streaming into the ruins of the Lightfeathers' ballroom. She assumed that it was Lady Callaghan who summoned them somehow. Usually, Cornelia would not have missed such a big thing, but she had been too occupied with Anne to notice.

"Miss...I don't know who's done this, but I am going to need help to find out...Might I employ your services miss?" Lady Callaghan questioned quietly. Cornelia found herself taken aback for the third time. She eyed Lady Callaghan warily, wondering what the hell the Technocrat would want to do with a prole like her. Cornelia could only assume that Lady Callaghan wanted some sort of spy or "observer", but of course, Cornelia didn't work for free.

There was the sound of a loud explosion, and Cornelia waited for the reverberations to dissipate before opening her mouth to speak. Lady Callaghan was watching her expectantly. Cornelia looked in Anne's direction, and seeing that there were indeed doctors tending to her friend, she began.

"Ma'am, if you would have me serve as your parlor maid or serving girl, I am afraid that I am already employed," Cornelia said carefully, gauging the Technocrat's reaction. Cornelia lowered her voice as she continued. "But if you would have me watch and listen, with all due respect ma'am, I would be more than happy to oblige...for the right price." Cornelia was never one to tiptoe cautiously around subjects that were more controversial, especially not in a dire situation like this.

For the first time, Cornelia felt as if she had some sort of upper hand. If Lady Callaghan refused, well, Cornelia was still working for Lady Enright. And if she agreed to pay her? Cornelia would be able to send more money than ever before back to her family. She felt a sudden twinge of homesickness. What would her mother say if she knew what Cornelia truly did for her employers, other than dusting the candlesticks and scrubbing their floors? Cornelia impatiently pushed the thought out of her mind-it would do her no good to grow overly agitated in a moment like this.

However, thinking of home made Cornelia think of the other people she knew. It was true that she had few friends amongst other proles, but the few friends that she did have were very connected. Cornelia's lip twitched slightly as she thought of Sebastian Shoreditch, a middle-aged butler who currently worked for a wealthy Meritocrat family. He was born with a photogenic memory, an extraordinarily rare trait. Sebastian was a wily and shrewd, and kept his unusual talent a secret from most everyone, including his employers. He learned to read when he was in his 20's, and since then, he had been snooping on his employers. Cornelia always went to him whenever she needed to find something obscure like a valuable antique; if anyone knew about it, it would be Sebastian. Besides, he didn't ask for anything but a flask of cider, and he was good company. Cornelia fondly recalled his salt-and-pepper hair and cocky grin, his outrageous imitations of his employers, and his many sardonic wisecracks. Maybe Sebastian would know something about the vigilante-it would definitely be worth a try.

Wilhelmina Sullivan was about Cornelia's age. The two of them had suffered through countless beatings and scoldings together when Cornelia was fourteen; they were as thick as thieves. When Cornelia was fired from her first job, Wilhelmina was devastated, but through a long chain of underground communication and passing messages to people who might know someone that knew the other girl, they were able to stay in touch. The last Cornelia had heard, Wilhelmina had become a prostitute at a fairly established brothel. Cornelia could see why she would be hired; Wilhelmina was as delicate as a doll and ten times more beautiful than one too, with her rosebud lips and dainty figure and thick black ringlets. Wilhelmina would have definitely been in contact with wealthy Technocrats. It would be worth a try attempting to speak to her as well.

Finally, there was Charlotte Elliot, or Lottie, as Cornelia called her. Almost seventy years old, half-blind, and hunchbacked, most people thought of her as a helpless old lady. Cornelia had thought so too, at first, but it was Charlotte who got Genevieve Clarkson to employ Cornelia as an informant. From what Cornelia knew, Charlotte had stayed with the Clarksons after Genevieve's death despite the fact that Charlotte was Genevieve's nursemaid and very close to the woman. Gabriel Clarkson had obviously been swayed by his parents to let her be. Getting in touch with Charlotte would be tricky because she rarely ever left the Clarkson estate, but not impossible. Cornelia would figure something out.

Cornelia let a small, cordial half-smile slip onto her face as she awaited Lady Callaghan's reply. Maybe she would even be able to find out more about the masked murderer for Lady Enright during their exchange.

[Assistant]
In between Lady Callaghan's offer of employment to Cornelia and Cornelia's response, Lady Callaghan had asked Jacoby to procure some transportation. "Have the steamers swipe a carriage" Jacoby aside to Sir Geoffrey, causing the bird automaton to take flight in the direction of the steamdroids Jacoby had repaired and reprogrammed.
Some time later, Sir Geoffrey returned with a steamdroid. "We have acquired transportation for you and your associates" the droid said as Sir Geoffrey perched on Jacoby's shoulder once more "It awaits your usage at the main entrance".
"Excellent work" Jacoby told the droid. As the steamdroid turned to go, Jacoby stopped it. "Procure a carriage for yourselves too" Jacoby said "You 6 may prove helpful".
"Very good, sir" the steamdroid replied before walking off to carry out Jacoby's orders.
"A carriage awaits at the main entrance, my lady" Jacoby told Lady Callaghan once she had reached an agreement with Cornelia. 'Well Jacoby' he thought to himself 'It looks like you have an adventure on your hands'.

[User]
Evelyn was quite embarrassed to be perfectly honest. It seemed funny but to her it was far from a joke. Speaking to the servant was more terrifying to her than a prole speaking to a Technocrat. She didn't ever really know what to say, as her position afforded her such impunity she never was able to find out what they actually thought of her. Looking down to the poor lass she gave the doctors shoulder a small tap. "Is it...good?", she said somewhat timidly. "Just in time, her chances are good", he replied before going back to his business. Soon after calling two workers to carry her out of the building. "Ma'am, if you would have me serve as your parlor maid or serving girl, I am afraid that I am already employed", Evelyns face dropped somewhat. Looking more sad than anything else. "I'm...sorry to have wasted you...", she was cut off as the lassie continued to speak. She was available for hire and it looked as if she might just have access to information that would come in handy, admittedly she didn't approve on such things but this was an exception. She gave a soft chuckle. "Wonderful!", she exclaimed excitedly, moving to hug her tightly. Then pulled back, looking somewhat more reserved and embarrassed. She hadn't thought if it would be seen as an offence. Or if she'd even appreciate it, the girl was right, what would a Technocrat want from a prole but a disposable servant. It's not like the servant wanted her for a friend. Most of the youths Evelyn knew were despicable. The kind of people that would use you up and spit you out. ."I don't know how long I'd need you Miss....um..., I'm Lady Callaghan....yourself? but I'd be happy to pay weekly. You can discuss it with my butler. But we must hurry away!"

She looked to see the little mechanical companion of Jacoby flying back to land on his shoulder. She gave a soft smile and gave the little automaton a soft stroke on the beak. "Thank you sir, might I enquire into your services too? If it's not a bother, I wouldn't mind the extra company and you seem to know your way around...I'll pay...", to be perfectly honest she was desperate for the company, it was rather a lonely life being a Technocrat, especially one who doesn't stick to social conventions. She didn't understand the other young aristocracy, their lives so filled with ambitions for power and money. Having friends like show pieces to brag about to their other collectables. It was rather disquieting to be honest and it seemed this was the first chance she had to actually hang around with people who were...well normal. "Your friend is in good hands miss. Please let us go. I'm sure we can avenge the damage done here today", she said before taking the two of them by the hand and trying to run to the carriage. It was getting late and the day was coming to a finish. The nightlife of the docks was getting rowdy and she had people to try and meet there. A young man actually being the first. Edward Thomson, a young prole that had robbed her purse. The police made short work of tracking him down but she refused to press charges. Instead she arranged for him a job in a bar in the port. It's the best way of reforming broken characters. Stick a man in prison and he becomes a hardened criminal. Give a man a job and he can work his way out of his destitution. He'd never let her down after that. Liberating stolen goods from criminals for her to return to their rightful owners.

[Assistant]
"My services?" Jacoby said when Lady Callaghan inquired into his services "Well if you think you'll need a skilled engineer with incredibly good luck at your back in this venture, I think you'll have use for me. As for payment, we can discuss that at the end of our business engagement so long as we're both still alive by then". With an agreement reached, Jacoby took Lady Callaghan's hand (Somewhat enjoying the fact he was holding the hand of an attractive technocrat woman.) and followed her to the carriage.

Jacoby was the 1st to step out when the carriage reached the docks. Once on the ground, he reached up into the carriage and Lady Callaghan off as well. "I hope you don't mind that I brought a few 'friends' along for the ride" Jacoby said as the carriage that the reprogrammed steamdroids had commandeered pulled up behind them "I thought they might prove useful in certain situations".