[System]
Age: 23
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Appearance: He's rather tall, and slightly above average weight, with short red hair, and brown eyes. He very rarely wears anything formal, and typically wears a plain blue t-shirt, and trousers.
Abilities: Cuna's one ability, which he is also unaware of, is complete immunity to non-direct means of viewing. There is absolutely no known way to view him or communicate about him behinds direct methods. Scrying excludes him, cameras do not see him, sensors don't even show him as giving off any sort of presence, as if where he was was just empty space. This also includes audio, as trying to talk about him over a sort of magical means, or radio waves, somehow excludes him (talking about specifically him will be incomprehensible static, while talking about him in a group will exclude him in the group, even in the groups number [being with someone else will instead show up as someone alone]. The reason for this is unknown, but the only known way to communicate with him is to have directly seen him with ones own eyes (assuming they are not magical), or directly talk to someone who has seen him.
He is also one of the only heretics of his world, one of the few to not believe in the god Hokum.
Side note: If a robot uses cameras as its main method of vision, and said robot is sentient, it can see him, but anything else using said robots vision will not, as that would be through a medium. As a general rule, visible spectrum only, and only through direct speaking to someone.

Name: Joseph
Age: Unknown
Species: Unknown, looks male and humanoid.
Abilities and the like: Carries a sniper. Unknown, but approved by the one who is not a god, Hokum.
Appearance: A gaunt figure standing at 5' 6", wearing dark sunglasses and having semishort dark hair. Clothes vary, but typically something based around functional.

[User]
---

Two years before Hany's Ribbon decimated the Quatis home world, an unidentified flying object crash landed on their planet. Within the object a highly advanced cybernetic entity was discovered. Two years later, when Hany's Ribbon appeared on the outskirts of the Quatis solar system, the scientists of Quatis used what they had learnt from the cybernetic entity to enhance their own technology. These enhancements were used in the construction of the Quatis Fleet, with which two million Quatis were spared of Hany's wrath.

---

Present Day.
Quatis Science Ship, The Erud.
Level 9.5, Dorita Gavon Tels. Personal Lab.

 "Where did you find it?"

Dorita simpers at the question, her squinching, large blue eyes denoting the many secrets she forbade herself to tell. The specimen before her was her treasure, the embodiment of everything any scientist could ever dream of coveting. The summit of technological perfection. There it stood behind the unseen forcefield, depicting the structure of a man. Such a lie exhibited by the smooth, platinum hue of its epidermis and the white irises of its eyes, staring out across the room as though in a self-induced state of daze.

"I heard they crash landed." Science assistant Marlic adds to his question with a prying side-eyed glance at Dorita. "At least that's what the rumours suggest, correct?"

Marlic is a plump young man, a testament to his love for donuts, but really anything sweet and pastry-like. He has black hair, not washed regularly enough; oily and unkempt, as are his full bodied eyebrows. His prominent puffed cheeks complimented his full sausage lips and deeply dimpled chin. He's been Dorita's assistant for no less than three days, but it was a position he strove for over the course of the last few years since college. Being in a position of subordinate to Dino Gavon's daughter was an achievement that a great number of Quatis men could dare fantasize about.

"Rumors… rumors, rumors." Dorita replied, softly spoken as she tucks a strand of beige hair behind her ear, her eyes still coveting the cybernetic individual within the forcefield. "let's just say they had a little help with their… crash landing. But here it is…." She smiles and glances at Marlic; "all ours now."

"How much do we know about it?" Marlic asked, taking a deep breath to portray his discomforted fascination.

"Not as much as we want." She answered, placing one hand on his shoulder. "As you know, a lot of our modern technology was made possible by our studies of this… marvel of science. Shielding, teleporters, weapons and even interstellar communications were made possible from extrapolating formulas from this one individual." She removes her hand from his shoulder to give him a nudge with her elbow. "That's why I've called you here today, Marlic. I've deciphered a brand new set of formulas. They're going to revolutionize the course of Quatis existence forever."

Marlic didn't take this news lightly. His widened eyes looked over Dorita's form as though his vision could penetrate her lab coat in order to observe her lean body beneath, as if that alone was going to reveal the knowledge she held.

"What did you discover?" He said, his voice a whisper of suspense. "Did you really…? Did you figure out the formula of its epidermis layer? Seriously?"

She smiled a smile of the deepest sense of accomplishment, taking her eyes back to the cybernetic entity, saying; "That I did…. And more. I've even added a formula of my own."

Had his eyes not been attached to their sockets by fibers, blood vessels and nerves, they would have popped right out of Marlic's head. "Tell me – tell me now! What have you done, Dori?"

Dorita gives her assistant a wink and walks across the room to a polytechnic computer terminal. Marlic follows without hesitation. Once he's standing by her side again, she quickly types in a set of encrypted commands. A readout of her most recently discovered formula's scroll up the screen on the monitor.

"But that's…" Marlic reads over the formula like a wild-eyed child trying to make sense of a mathematical equation beyond his understanding. "…That's not even possible, though."

"I assure you it is." She said with an attempt to suppress the full spread of her smile.

Marlic leans in close, as if breathing on the monitor would better help him understand just what he was reading. "Is that… what I think it is?"

"Likely." She tells him, placing her hand on his back. "By the look on your face I'm guessing you're close to understanding."

"But this contradicts everything we know about metallurgical physics, about… everything. Science books will have to be rewritten…."

"The price of sweet change." Dorita admits.

Marlic shakes his head slowly in disbelief, eyes still focused on the formulas in front of him, saying; "But this simulative or mimetic alloy, it…. What you're describing is in fact a fluidic alloy that is capable of more than just kinetic function. If I'm reading this right…. It's able to simulate humanoid responses? Biological properties?"

"Let me help you out there." She obliges to inform him, though likely of a matter of impatience since she wanted nothing more than to share the news with someone: "This alloy can take on the functions of biological life, yes. In effect… it is its own self-supporting complex metallic infrastructure that functions like that of highly developed humanoid life, only better. It embodies everything; Kinetics… reflex response… synaptic and neurological activity, even regeneration properties… everything… all without the need of a brain."

Marlic turns his eyes to her, now looking more suspicious than anything else as he utters the words; "This is… silicone life."

She laughs mockingly. "No, no. Silicone life has nothing on this."

[Assistant]
"What the hell?" Magnus yelled. While being tossed around he started thinking more frantically. So much so that the world around him seemed to slow. He was partially familiar with disapproving fathers, especially with a humanoid marmot. But a Bee man? Seriously. Something about 200 times smaller than him collectively forming a man than him wants to kill him for something he didn't even do, but did think about. Meanwhile bees aggresively stung him. Forbidden love was a bit too much in his opinion. He thought it was more of a possiblity than a full on thing. But the more he thought, the more questions arose. How could a bee hive make a planet? Was it a planet? Why do they keep wanting to bother him? Why does Fanny want him? Shouldn't she be going for something her own size? And other such inqueries flew through his mind until he banged his head on a metal stationary shelf.
 "OH MY GOD" yelled SANDRA as Fanny's father broke his hand through a window and was feeling around, until grabbing Magnus and pulling him outside the ship, and flipping a switch in the process. SANDRA's voice sounds more human and seems more sensible.
 "Damn this flimsy existence. Barry dear, can you help- Barry? BARRY? Last time I agree to marry a lunatic with a moustache. Everything looks different. I swear to St. Scholastica if he turned me down again he's as good as dead."

[User]
```
where am I
```

/accessing memorybank/
/creating new memory
///STARTING MEMORY RECORDING. . .

DAY 292, YEAR UNKNOWN, DATE UNKNOWN
--------------------------/

Wrrrrrrrrrrr...

```
"damn it."
```

SAM laid there on the floor, face down, violently sprawled out. Based on the previous memory recording he made, the attempt to steer the ship to civilization didn't quite come into fruition. At least, when you look at the bright side, the ship seems to not be exploding or hurtling through space. Actually, there were quite a lot of fortunate events that came from that little mishap, the cargo barge was not completely obliterated by the potential meteoroids also whisking through the star-laden void. SAM also could have landed on a planet that was
improper for human, or any form of life. Perhaps he landed a mere mile away from the nearest city or hamlet, he could jog that distance, he did it all the time.

Enough speculation, it was time to make an informed opinion about his situation. SAM kicked off a drab green crate that fell onto him presumably from the crash landing. Something seems different about the ship, the floor has slightly less blood stains that he remembered it having. Something catches his eye, or rather the lack of something; the control panel. It had simply vanished seamlessly. He strides over to where it used to be. Wait a second...

SAM looks up at the ceiling.

There he saw the control panel.

Well, it was clear the ship landed in an unusual way, but this sprung forth an idea. The ramps to unload crates and such were on the bottom of the ship, there was a convenient little button panel right next to the ramps. All that was needed was a solution to flick some tiny silver switches. The switches would be a painless matter of throwing something and if your aim was sharp, it would open. The problem came with how to actually get up there.

Or, perhaps someone will find the crashed ship? No, only scavengers or raiders would even consider a downed cargo vessel. A rescue crew would be more desirable. Execute phase 1...

Within a few minutes, a sizable bolt was chucked at an arch at the control pad. Ping. It just nearly missed the main switch. The cargo bay ceiling was considerably higher up, or in this case, lower to the ground than SAM had thought. If at first you don't succeed...

Clonk. A miscellaneous pipe or bar he had found struck the panel with a echoing metallic clatter, vaguely in the area of the green-capped switch. It was too high up to get a clear view to see if it worked. A slow, squeaking cry emanated from the ceiling before it turned to a roaring, groaning screech. A ray of sunlight pierced, thin as a sheet of glass, through the gap in the ramp. He had a hinting notion that it was sunrise outside. A good portion of the bay was now basked in light. Phase 1 successfully executed... Now, how to get up through this new opening? Those wires for the floodlights look about as big as a rope...

Swisssh... Clink. Execute phase 2... A black strand flies towards the sky, with three broken tripod legs tied to resemble and function like a standard grapnel. SAM tracks it as it soars towards the ramp, a child watching his kite dart through the park. The sunlight obscured the hook, though, it was hard to see if it was going to actually land-
CLONK. It bounced off his visor and onto the floor. Loosening his grip on the cables, SAM swung the hook around like a lasso before trying again to land it on the ramp. Just like he previously thought, if at first you don't succeed. He waited in anxiety, premeditating if it would rebound off his visor again.

It did not.

With a hard tug, the makeshift mountain climbing gear held strong and sturdily. SAM pounced onto the cable and was hiking up it with grit and persistence. The reward of simply getting out of his crashed prison was enough motivation for him. The straining vigor of the light only grew more intense as he was closer before he saw what lay before him on the outside...

Sand.

Sand for miles and miles, nothing in sight except for sand. But SAM didn't care, at least not at the moment. The rush still painted his view of the situation as a triumph. Even as he realized that this was barely an improvement, his confidence did not wane. Climbing atop the underbelly of the great unnamed ship, he proudly stood over the desert dunes. But, it would be a while before someone or something contacts him, so he would have to play more of the waiting game. The wrrrr... fades out.

///ENDING MEMORY RECORDING. . .

[Assistant]
As the troopers prepare themselves to fire upon the doorway.... nothing comes out. For a time, there are clomping sounds up above, until eventually it quiets down, and the blip disappears off of the motion tracker.

---

The HAM troopers see a group of pretty generic infected seeming to walk, almost in some sort of line, around a corner beyond their sight.

---

The bioship seems to be drifting towards the cruiser, albeit very slowly.


[System]
Age: 19

Gender: Female

Appearance: Onyx has black hair and green cat eyes. The skin of her entire body is covered in short, soft cheetah-patterned fur, except her wings and face. She is missing her left ear and has a scar on her left cheek from a fight she was in a while back. Her wings are like the wings of a brown hawk, and her wingspan is twice her arm span. She usually wears a shawl so that her wings are hidden unless she is flying.

Equipment: 3 or 4 small knives (and other tools), a pair of restored Twin Pistols, and a basic med-pack.

Physical Abilities: Flight, 6th sence(hunting/tracking), Speed & Agility, Stealth.

Background: Onyx's species, the Elissics, live in the mountains and old cities found there. They could be categorized as a frightening predator and enemy to all creatures, as they have barely any ability to distinguish one race of creature from another from the air, and there's barely any escape once they swoop down on their prey. They are not a particularly smart race, they can't understand old human language and can just barely manage to put back together the few relics they find from humans. They can only make crude weaponry, and are fairly simple with the other things they make as well. Their society is broken up into many nomadic tribes across the region, each having their own unique color of wings, and they have no unified head of power, so they will often fight with each other when the different tribes meet.

Onyx herself is a bit different from the others in her tribe… she likes to be alone, rather than hunting in a group, and will keep trying towards her goal until she figures out how to get there. Instead of trying to fly over the tallest mountain and tiring herself out, possibly even getting sick, she'll look for the shortest path around. She's better with strategy and quick moves than drawn-out fights and trying to compensate for a group. Because of this, she is sort of left out of everything, and she doesn't care because she doesn't want to have to feel like she can't say what's on her mind. She is often given solo missions that really don't make much difference around the tribe, and whenever she's not on a mission will fly in random patterns around the mountains, usually ending up at a large lake (or small sea) where she likes to fish using an old net she had found nearby the first time she had gone there. Onyx, just like the rest of the Elissics, doesn't worry much about the state of the world or how it got that way. They all live completely in the moment.

[User] "Ok, you go ahead and do that. I won't be gone too long." Onyx paused a moment before taking off again, debating what to say. "I don't know that you wouldn't be allowed there, but I'd think that some people wouldn't want you there anyway. I suppose it's up to you if you go or not. I wouldn't stop you, but others might try." Onyx Took off then, hovering for a moment to say one last thing before leaving. "I'll be right back, definitely before sunset."

[Assistant] Once Onyx flew away, Tarentek returned to her den and took a few minutes to store away his weapons before he searched around her kitchen for something he might prepare. He could see why she mentioned going to the market, as she did not have too much left in the way of food. What she did have he couldn't make anything particularly spectacular, so he just put together something with the remaining ingredients. He cut up the one fish she had remaining to split between them, then started to roast a few carrots with some spices she fortunately had available. As a side item, he set aside some peaches, then started to sear figs to go along with them. It wasn't exactly a traditional combination of ingredients, but with the right herbs and spices, he felt he could make something they would both like.

[User] Onyx tried not to get too lost in her thoughts as she was at the market, and she managed to do exactly that. She returned to her den after not too long, with a basket of food to show for her trip. As she put away everything she had gotten, she looked over what Tarentek had done while she was gone, not surprised by the strange use of ingredients. "Well, I got more food at the market so we don't have to have two strange meals in a row, but at least this looks edible." Onyx smiled as she spoke and sat at the table.

[Assistant] "I'll settle for edible." Tarentek commented as he served Onyx her meal and took a seat himself. The parts of the meal were strange together, but at least they tasted fine if taken individually. "I suppose I'll just relax here tomorrow, as I wouldn't want to do anything to disturb your ritual. I understand its importance to you. So what will this change for you? I know that you'll become a prophet, and you'll be considered an adult, but what comes with that? Are there any changes you're particularly looking forward to? I remember once I started being considered an adult, there were some privileges I enjoyed gaining...along with a mountain of responsibilities I wasn't so thrilled about." He recalled with a laugh.

[User] "Well, I told you about the name part already, and I suppose that's one part that I really am looking forward to a lot. Once the ritual is complete, I will be a Prophet, and everyone will call me Bri'nx instead of Onyx in respect to my new role in the tribe. That's a big change in itself, as that is the everyday proof of my acceptance by the tribe." Onyx paused to eat some of her meal before continuing. "As for my responsibilities, I will no longer have any daily tasks to complete unless I want to, and I won't have to attend the Elder's teachings and stories anymore. I will have new responsibilities though, such as looking after those who are still to come of age and going on daily patrols around the nest to help anyone who may need it. Any duties related to my role as a Prophet would also become new responsibilities for me, such as going on diplomatic missions or helping to ease the worries of the tribe."

[Assistant] Tarentek nodded. "Hmm, and I suppose I can guess what your first major responsibility will be. It is only going to be a few more days before I'm ready to go. How do you feel about visiting a foreign city? I have been to Tel Nof before, though only once. As scouts, my squad was adept at crossing the desert terrain, so we were assigned to escort a diplomatic envoy to the city. It is smaller than Amman, or most of the surrounding cities, but it is still much larger than this village. It is built on an old Human ruin, a military base. Actually, it was a place where the Humans kept the airplanes and helicopters I told you about. Not even wreckage remains of those anymore, though. All of the metal was taken and reused in building up the city. Still, the Karisskan living there were able to recover quite a few weapons, and have since gathered more from the surrounding area. Amman often traded ammunition to them. They are well armed, which is one reason I believe that they will make for useful allies." He explained.

[User] "I'm a little excited, but also very nervous. I told you I've never been in another city under very peaceful circumstances before. I hope for the success of this mission, but I worry about what would happen if we fail." Onyx fell silent for a little while, thinking. "They are your people, but how different are they from your city? Like how our tribes are different from each other, or are there less differences between your city and theirs than I am thinking?"

[Assistant] "Well...I don't know if I would call them my people. I mean, they are my species of course, but the Karisskan of Tel Nof are quite different from those of Amman. We do share a common background, but we split away from one another long ago." Tarentek began. He did not know everything about the Karisskan of Tel Nof, but he had learned some in preparation for his visit to their city years ago. "There are fundamental differences in our beliefs and the way we live our lives. We see our gods, especially Jhala, differently. For my people, as you know, we are called to develop a deep understanding of the world for the honor and service of Jhala, but the Karisskan of Tel Nof follow a different path, one that can change with their leaders. They split from our people by following their first king to settle Tel Nof. Since then, all of their kings and queens have had absolute authority over their people. They believe that Jhala imparts her wisdom on their monarch, so they serve as leader in state and in spirit. Still, those shared roots we have make them somewhat similar to my people, in a few ways. A lot of our social norms, like the way we behave and talk around one another, are similar, so I can be of help in that regard. They do trade with other cities, so they are accustomed to interacting with other races, and are...reasonably understanding when they make mistakes. Mostly."

[User] "So the major difference between their city and yours is that they follow your goddess in a different way than you do?" Onyx asked before changing her mind. "Actually, nevermind. That makes sense, they have different values, so they follow their own set of rules. The different tribes of my people are somewhat similar, those who are more focused on survival don't actually have a specific ritual for things like coming of age or a funeral, while a tribe like mine that is focused on exploration has a very strong belief in keeping the traditions of our ancestors going strong." Onyx paused a moment as she searched for the thread of thought she had started with. "So, the way their leadership works is very different from yours, but social custom is still similar. Is there anything I should know about what to, or what not to do?"

[Assistant]
Tarentek nodded. "Oh, yes, quite a few. More than I could go over in just a few minutes. A lot of it is behaviors that might offend you which you and the others will have to learn to accept. I've encountered a few of those in my time here, if you recall. I wouldn't want you or the others to think someone is trying to insult you when they're not...or that they're being friendly when they're actually trying to insult you." He said with a chuckle. "We might want to set aside some time one day before the mission to go over all of that in detail. Preferably, with the others who will be escorting me. I may ask your father to decide a few days early on who will be joining me so we can properly prepare."

Tarentek was nearly finished with his meal, though he wasn't in any particular rush. "I think you'll be fine, though, as long as you let me lead the way and try not to make any assumptions if you're unsure about what someone is meaning. You seem to have been reasonably understanding about our differences so far, even if there have been a few misunderstandings. Is there anything you can think of that the others joining us might have issues with?"

[User] "Well, the most obvious thing is that they wont want to follow your lead at first, but even after they accept that they may still be rude or insubordinate. But it also depends greatly on who 'they' actually are." Onyx quoclky made a list in her mind of all those who would be most likely to accept the mission and follow Tarentek's orders without too much bad behavior. "I can think of quite a few people that would be included in the best case scenario, but there is an even higher number of unknowns and negatives too."

[Assistant]
"I would guess that your father would want to send along the people who would best get along with me, or at least be focused enough on the mission to accept my expertise on the matter. If they do not intend to listen, it would honestly be better not to have them at all. We want to make a good impression on the locals, and there are some things that could actually get them in to some trouble if they make the wrong mistakes." Tarentek explained. He finished his meal, so he opened his canteen and sipped on his water as he continued.

"If we are lucky enough to get an audience with her, probably one of the most important rules is to do everything that the Queen tells you, without question. In diplomatic negotiations, you can disagree with her, that is fine, but in everything else, the Queen's word is absolute law, and she doesn't like to be questioned in her own home. If she wants you to do something you don't like or don't want to do, it doesn't matter; you do it. Disobeying the Queen is something they can and will arrest you for, and, well, you really don't want that." He added.

[User] Onyx finished her meal as she listened to Tarentek, and began to clean up everything while she thought how to respond. "How likely do you think it is that we will actually meet with this queen? I'm not certain that our entire group would actually go into the city, some would stay outside either to show less intimidation or simply to avoid the possibility of making any mistakes." Onyx had finished cleaning up now, so she sat back at the table and started sorting through her med-pack. "Speaking of mistakes, it would be extremely bad if we were to come to a misunderstanding while there. Are there specific, rules of court, or anything like that we would have to follow? I suppose you'd tell everyone on the mission at some point along the way, so you don't have to tell them all right now."

[Assistant]
Tarentek nodded. "There are rules specific to the court, yes. Actually, when I was there, they sent someone to us beforehand to instruct us on their rules. It seems they are not so unreasonable as to punish people for rules they know nothing about. No, they make sure to tell you the rules before arresting you for breaking them. Still, I will tell everyone all that I remember. A lot of the etiquette is simple...fluff, is how I would describe it. Who to bow to; who walks in front when you're going somewhere. That kind of thing. One thing I found strange was that guests, or anyone, really, are forbidden from talking with any of the servants while in the palace. There are specific officials who are permitted to relay orders to the servants. It's a security thing, I believe. All of the servants are...well I don't know if slaves is the right term. They all live quite well, and actually receive a good amount of respect in the palace. But, all of them are hatched in the palace, and are forbidden from speaking with anyone outside the palace...ever. Through their entire lives. I think it is meant to ensure that no outside plots ever find their way into the minds of the monarch's servants."

Though she had not asked, Tarentek paused a moment to help clean up. By this point, he had been in Onyx's home long enough to know everything's proper place. "As for meeting the Queen herself, it is actually possible. She does have advisers and other officials who can act on her behalf, but what we are going to be asking of her people is pretty major. We're asking for a military alliance against a force greater than her city could hope to conquer alone. That is important enough for the Queen herself to take interest. If that happens, just do whatever she says. We're not going to be allowed any security in her presence, so it will just be us who has to worry about that."


[System]
"Tha call of battle echoes too loud to ignore."
Race / Age

Human

Personality

Reignald is a hard man to decipher, and who he is changes a lot from who you ask. People in his hometown will tell you he is a gentle giant. Constantly helping around the village, always with a smile on his face. He will always have kind words for those who approach him, and will serve as shoulder to cry on when needed. Despite being strong as a bull, he wouldn't hurt a fly. A bit overprotective of his daughter, Alana, but ultimately a kind man. The nickname "The Old" just elevates his status as village grandpa.

On the other hand, the men under his command back in his warring days would tell you he was a beast. Stories still spread around camps of the time he broke a man's arm just for daring sneeze while in formation. Ruthless, merciless, and hard as stone. His battlebrothers thought of calling him "the animal" but only stopped out of fear of him ever finding out. Instead, they settled for Reignald the Omen, for when he stepped on the battlefield, it was a sign the tide of battle was about to change.

Backstory

Reignald was born in a small household in the capital, son of a blacksmith and a tailor. Due to his economical situation, he started helping his father in the shop at a very young age. He grew big and strong through the hard labor of the forge, and by his late teens, he was already the sort of man you would not want to pick a fight with. Although he tried to avoid it as much as he could, other kids on his street would constantly pick fights with him, trying to prove their bravery or strenght. Unaware of his strenght, Reignald would end up sometimes hurting someones child more than he intended, earning him constant scoldings and punishments. Despite his lack of combat training, Reignald knew everything his father had to teach him about weaponry.But his place was not making swords, but wielding them. In the same way a blade is forged first with fire and, Reignald had already forged his body, and just like a sword, it was time for him to be tested in battle. He joined the army at age 20. Although he tried to convince himself he did it to repay some of the resources his family had spent raising him, this was far from the truth. Reginald wanted to experience war. He wanted to taste the bloodshed and the real cruelty this world had to offer.

He fought numerous battles in the name of his nation, and by age 40, he had cemented a reputation as a brutal force in the battlefield. This ensured him a small commanding rank, and a little plot of land to call his own. In the span of a couple of years his unit had become efficient, effective, and most importantly, deadly. It wouldnt be until 4 years later that he decided to retire, without much explanation, leaving the command of his men to a trusted aprentice. He would lead a peaceful life for another 6 years, allowing himself to enjoy the fruits of a lifetime of service. But his sword yearned for the embrace of its master, and Reignald knew, deep within, he was born for war.

He tried to re-enlist, but instead, go directed somewhere else. His achivements had not gone unnoticed after all.

"The Virtous Company, eh? Count me in"

Physical Talents
Proficiency with sword, armor and shield.
Military discipline.
Blacksmithing skills.
Above average strenght.

Magical Talents
Low Tier
Rage of the Bull: Years of combat and wounds have taught Reignald to ignore pain, even if temporarily. This comes with the downside of constantly ignoring grave wounds, which, unattended, could cause trouble in the long run.
Battlecry: Half of the battle is in the mind. Reignald has learnt this over the years, and has mastered the art of shouting fear into his enemies. Not supernatural in and on itself one would think, until one heard his battlecry.
Mid Tier
Second Wind: When in the brink of death, animals fight the hardest. After receiving extensive damage, Reignald can push himself into a last desperate fight, often with deathly results.
Omens of battle: Plenty of war experience has payed off in an almost supernatural ability to predict the ways of combat. A constant disconnection in the battlefield usually stops his use of reason when fighting. But on the rare ocasion where Reignald fights with a clear mind, the result is a proficiency in duel that some would confuse of divination. Almost as if he knew what his enemy was about to do.

Equipment
His sword (nicknamed "Lullaby")
Full plate armor.
His shield.
A small satchel bag, attached to his sword's hilt.
Rations for 3 days in bread and cheese.
A horn
An assortment of stimulant herbs
A flask of healing poultice (300ml)
A canteen full of wine (500ml)
Fears
Reignald constantly questions why exactly does he fight. Constantly tries to convince himself that he is a good person, and that he fights for his country and his ideals. Deep inside, he is afraid to akcnowledge that maybe, just maybe, he is as brutal and savage as the kids in his block once thought he was.

Another great fear of his is losing his daughter, Alana. Although Alana is a grown woman, Reignald can get overprotective of her at times. He specially distrusts Alana's husband, Theodore, and only backs off as per his daughter's request.

This ties to a general fear of losing those who look up to him. Despite his time in the army, Reignald never really got used to losing the people around him, and would constantly put himself in unreasonable danger due to his inability to let go.

[User]
Reignald put the letter down on the desk of his small room at the Inn after he was done reading it, a small candle flickering. He had received the ltter from the oldman, via courier, very early in the morning. His ol military customs had not left him, and he was up before sunrise. A habit that since he came home, he had been looking to get rid off, but, at least now turned out of some use.

"Captain, eh?"

He smiled a bit. This was not going to be an easy task. The group was a bit too heterogeneous from a military standpoint. They all had very strong tempers. And Fiers was vice captain. Reignald couldn't help but feel a tinge of pride. Maybe that is what the bard needed. A bit of responsibility, to set him straight. And if not, now that he was officially a commander officer again, he could apply some "disciplinary measures". With a bit of training, he could turn the roudiest man into a soldier, and he hoped to do that on Fiers. Hell, given the time, he hoped to turn the whole squad into the most efficient in the Company.

He stood p from the desk and walked towards his crate at the foot of the bed. If he was to make it to the docks, he had to start getting ready. Piece by piece, he assembled his armor upon his body, a ritual he had done a million times before. The cold steel never failed to wake him up. Was it the chilling touch against his skin? Or perhaps something else? He fastened the hilt of his sword against his waist, and he pulled out "Lullaby" from its sheath. Another military habit, he had been taught to always inspect his sword first before heading into battle. If there were any imperfections, he could catch them before they were allowed to cause problems in the battlefield. Lullaby was in good condition. No chips or dents, just a few scracthes. Reignald lookd at his reflection on its blade. It was getting old, and so was he. He looked away from his reflection. Those eyes. He had never liked those eyes. He sheathed it back and headed out the door with heavy, armored steps.

The saline air and the ocean breeze, the clamoring of sailors as they loaded ship and the cries of seagulls. It had been a while since he had been to port. And years since he had even set foot on a ship. He muttered a quick prayer under his breath. In his youth he had been prone to seasickness, and since age was not doing him any favors… He would go to Elsie for that later.

R'ornn and Fiers were already at the docks. Reignald let out a sigh. Yes, of course Fiers was already there. Who else could be responsible of the panicked lady that just ran past him, begging him to protect her from the pirates. This was going to be a long day.

"Now, where's the person in charge of this venture? So I can go give him a firm boot in the arse for allowing mayhem and chaos to spread through the ranks?"

Reignald put an ironclad hand on the bards shoulder, standing behind him.

"That would be me." He answered in a stern voice.

[Assistant]
"Fuckin piss. Dis is just great, ain't it boozie ol girl?"

Sitting in some dark and murky tavern of ill repute was a grey-green hybrid trying to drink himself into a stupor. He chose this place for cheap grog and he was already on his eight mug and barely tingly. "If dis money wasn't worth a king's ransom I'd tell em to sod off, ain't fuckin gettin on no damn boat to some godforsaken plane of gronch, no siree..." The man drained his cheap grog again, putting another coin on the counter to keep them coming. "Ah but dat's wot ye get fer bettin money on that knifer, rot gubbin not worth the copper dey stuck in em. Twenty thousand debt, thought ya got here to leave dat nonsense behind." Eventually after downing sixteen flagons of cheap sea-side grog, Malkai was nice and buzzed enough that he might be able to ignore the fact he was getting on a boat, but still lucid enough to complain about it.

Malkai would've actually had a hard time finding the dock he was looking for if it weren't for some sort of a commotion causing people to run away. Malkai figured that wherever he was suppose it be, it'll be where everyone is running away from. For he is a member of the Virtuous Company, a gang of sellswords and murderers, and they'll kill and murder anyone if the money is right. And surely whatever is causing all this trouble was in need of a killing, and surely there was someone there willing to pay for it. As people were running or just standing around confused Malkai staggered over to the scene, not seeing any pirates but seeing some other members of the Virtuous Company. Or maybe they were pirates disguised as the Virtuous Company. It could go either way.

"Oi. Who's da pisser and where da pirates? I'm itching fer a scrap. Maybe a couple sacks too." The drunk half-orc let out a burp before leaning up against a pillar dangerously close to the edge of the water. Moving to slightly steadier ground Malkai tried to remember who the others were, but he either never met them or couldn't remember. Either way he seemed to get real friendly as he took out a cigar, snapping his finger to light it up after tearing off the cap. "Ya call me Malkie ya hear? Me name's Malkie. Ya with da Virginal Comp? Please ta meet ya. Wat's yer arm like?"

[User]
Even though she spent countless nights away from the group, Rosha still found herself not being able to sleep the same way she use to, the feeling of regret was still housing it's self within her very being making the pugilist's night restless, sometime within the night she found herself meditating. Even though she was forced away from the others who believed in Void, she still meditated to the unseen entity, maybe out of habit or something more personal. Once her meditation was finished, she found the sun had not yet rose into the sky, years of travelling prepared her for rising early and finding the energy to walk even when tired.

Memorizing the letter and her orders burned inside of her mind, she knew where to go, a ship not too far from the inn she was told to stay at. Once she had found the ship, the sun finally showed it's self in the sky and illuminated the large boat she had to board, Rosha stared at the water as the sunlight brightly shined off it and had a bit of an uneasy feeling in her stomach, she wasn't sure if it was from seasickness or something different. She held her gut with her wrapped up fingers before silently looking over to others boarding the boat and the sailor that constantly roamed around the wooden vessel.

It wasn't long before the others that Rosha were told about to arrive, one of the few reminded her of a small stuffed toy she once had as a child, but with less talking as it did, it was a small furry creature that knew how to speak as normal humans, he then began laughing and rolling around the deck as he laughed before abruptly stopping awkwardly and staring at the water. From the shade of her corner, Rosha spotted another person who claimed pirates were coming, hearing about the incoming threat, Rosha got to her feet quickly, ready for a group of pirates as the man stated only to find that he was lying, Rosha held back having any anger." You shouldn't do things like that. " She told him.

Then suddenly a heavy musk hit Rosha's nose, it was an Orc, the smell of some kind of heavy drink was on their breath as they spoke, it wasn't really too surprising to her that they had a couple smells coming off them that were heavy, it wasn't exactly a bad musk, but it was very heavy. As the group began growing, Rosha found a secluded spot on the ship where the sailors weren't too active at and shaded to stay cool, she sat on the deck with her legs crossed in the meditation position, but she just looked around silently at the others, she began thinking if the group was going to be like this, then they might be annoying.

[Assistant]
Reignald let go of Fiers' shoulder. He would have to talk to him about his antics later. Besides, he was not in charge of wahtever panic he spread across the sailors. His only interest where the men of the company. Speaking of which...

The old knight diverted his attention towards the new arrival, one "Malkie". He emanated a stench of alcohol, and spoke like he had had his fair share. Or maybe it was an accent. If it was, it was quite a thick one. At least, so he hoped. He had enough with enebriated characters for the day, and it was barely noon.

Reignald had never dealt personally with an ork. Not that it mattered much. As long as he could swing a sword and take care of himself, whether he was human or not didnt bother him. No, what bothered him was the fact that he knew his type. Rowdy, insubordinate, and loudmouthed. He had his hands full with the bard already, and now he had a partner. Reignald did his best to hide the frustration in his face.

"Reignald, pleased to meet you, "Malkie"" He extended a hand to greet the ork. "I assume that you brought your letter?" He asked. Not having met him in the tavern, Reignald wanted to make sure he was with them. Wouldnt want to jeopardize the operation by letting on the wrong man. He diverted his attention for a second when Rosha approached. She was, as always, not talking much, so the soldier decided to just let her be for now. He had been completely obvlivious to the savolin's presence, distracted by the issue with Fiers and the new member of the party.


[System]
Age: 28

Gender: Female

Appearance:

Personality:

Zypha is a woman of the world and very down-to-earth. Having grown up with a very rough childhood Zypha quickly learned what it meant to survive and how to lookout for oneself. She can very a very sarcastic individual and is not afraid of being rude or callus, so she can rub people the wrong way fairly easily. Despite these character flaws, and at times selfish attitude, she will fiercely defend her crewmates with all her ferocity when they are threatened by others.

Zypha also possesses a very strong will and is actually quite clever. She has a strong resolve to keep bettering herself in combat and learning, so she will often try something new if she thinks it would be beneficial to herself or the crew. Zypha is also willing to go to great lengths and take serious chances if she believes the result to be worth it.

Devil Fruit/ Weapon of expertise:

Zypha's choice of weapon is a twin Chain-Scythe. The Scythe blades are black with a dark blue triangle pattern across the edged-side of the blades. The blades are long and curved on their 'business' ends with short spike-like edges on the opposite side making both sides quite dangerous. The handles are made of essentially dark brown ironwood, polished to perfection with some of the traditional 'imperfections' and patterns that wood based pieces have. A dark blue chain connects the twin scythe at the ends of the handles, making the weapon not only a deadly pseudo-projectile but also a potential grappling hook, among other uses.

[User]
Zypha cursed for not being fast enough to take advantage of Yami's moment of pure humanness and Abigail had paid the price. Thankfully she was fast enough to drop the now useless pistol, unwind her scythe, detach one of them to throw the chain at Yami's legs. The chain wrapped around one of his legs just as he catapulted himself at Abigail to smash her. The chain very quickly went taunt, as she used just enough chain to wrap around a few times, and quickly dragged her along from the ride, exactly as she planned.

Using the momentum from the lunge to her advantage she would then land on his back shell with quite a bit of force; of course that all was just to get her in position for the next strike. As soon as she landed on his shell, using her other scythe she planned to swing the blade over the top of the shell and into his neck for a hopefully fatal blow. The curved nature of her scythe would give it the perfect angle for just such a maneuver.

"Just die already, you reptile. I'm not going to let any more crewmembers die today!" If she didn't finish this fight soon, there was a good chance she would be the only one left alive as Abigail was really taking a beating. "Damn it I'm not going to be alone again after a freaken few days!"

[Assistant]
Yami stopped and winced as he felt something land on his back. It was Zypha, of course! That scythe-wielding harlot was fast, loud, and annoying, the worst qualities for a pirate to have! She was almost as bad as that kooky captain Lenwood... Yami turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of her scythe in the corner of his eye, and retracting his head into his shelled body a moment before it struck, allowing it only to strike his hair, slicing several locks away like fresh grass. But he wasn't done there, Yami pulled all four of his limbs into his smaller, more agile shell right afterwards, pushing himself into the air just before doing so, in an attempt to propel Zypha off his back. As he did so, his shell started to spin again...

"Kame~Kame Uzo~Shredde~r~r~r~r~r!" He shouted, rolling his tongue.

[User]
Things didn't look good. They didn't look terrible either, but far worst than the Red pirate would've thought they'd be after such a successful attack. It all came down to looking like she was going to have her insides turned into liquid, but from pummeling, not complex chemical reactions like how spiders did it. Then, Zypha interfered, which was good because Abigail honestly didn't know what she was going to do. Yes, there was the electricity, but it hadn't been very effective the first time she gave it a go, and had only managed any damage after she shot it directly into the turtle man's bloodstream. Really, it came down to a hope that man would've hesitated long enough to allow her to think up something else to do.

Not that it got much better after Zypha's re-entrance into the fray. Yami had gone back into his shell and apparently he could do things that might not have been possible in his new form. It could do with a decrease in total mass, but there was no way to tell with any certainty. Not that how it was happening was very important, or why, which was already answered. What she needed was what, as in what would bring the fight to an end.

Her first reaction was to charge in and do whatever damage she could. That's the way her brother had been. It wouldn't do any good now. Since any attack with electricity was bound to end up hitting Zypha too. So she did the last thing she had wanted to She took a second to stand and watch the shell spin around. The leader could move easier than before so that meant the shell was lighter and maybe more flexible. If that was the case maybe it had exchanged its nearly total defense for maneuverability.

"And?" She shrugged. "What bloody good does that do? Even with the sword--" She blinked and turned her attention behind her, back to the blade, embedded into the wall so deeply it was going to be a pain to get it out. Not that she needed to do that right away. Grinning like a desperate lunatic with only a knife for a cannon fight she rushed over and took it by both hands. "Zypha get out of the way!" Without bothering to look back to see if her advice had been taken she Power poured into the blade which made its way into the wall and shot upwards towards the ceiling.

AT first it looked similar to the dendo-dendo earthworm which Abigail used against the girl in the armor, but then she said "Dendo-Dendo Hydra" and the worm split into two. The worms burrowed their way around Zypha and Yami before meeting in the middle. There was a loud grinding sound before a large piece of the roof broke off and came crashing down.

[Assistant]
Zypha clicked her tongue in annoyance as her attack, well failed miserably. That bloody shell just kept getting in the way but there was little should could do about it. Yami retracted his limbs into his shell, thankfully the chain wrapped around his leg popped off, otherwise she would have been in some serious trouble. The Turtle man started his spin while Zypha desperately latched on for dear life.

Around and around they went, the force of movement threatening to wrench her off and smash her into the nearest wall. For good or for ill, Zypha was soon forced to abandon her position when Abigail yelled "Zypha get out of the way!" Not waiting to figure out what was going to happen, Zypha let go and was flung off of the shell at a decent speed just as the devil fruit power made part of the roof collapse.

Now normally such a throw wouldn't be too much trouble but at high speeds with one leg injured, it would be hard to land on the wall safely. Taking her still attached scythe she threw it at the roof section that had collapsed, the blade managed to snag onto the broken roof and slow her momentum. She let the chain wrapped around her unravel to expel the excess kinetic energy, causing her to spin around as she flew.

The chain dug into her ribs which hurt quite a bit but it was better than smashing into the wall. She managed to slow herself down and alight onto the ground, dropping into a roll to better her landing. She then unhooked her scythe and looked to see if Abigail's attack had been successful and prepared her next attack if needed.

[User]
Yami fell back down, pushing his limbs out of his shell again to land, but not revealing his head just yet. Unfortunately for him, his falling momentum made it impossible to dodge the oncoming rain of broken stones that fell from the roof due to Abigail's attack. One after another, stones pelted the back of his shell, leaving him covered in a pile of debris. After the stones finished falling, Yami bursted out of the top with his shell spinning again, before landing between Abigal and Zypha, seemingly unharmed.

"Reh~heh~ha~ha~ha! Useless, your attacks are useless! My Shell is impregnable, you useless, stupid brats!" Yami shouted. He laughed further, 'Reh~heh~hah', spinning around in place on one of his feet in a dance of pure joy. But something was off about the smooth contours of his shell. He didn't notice it himself, but there was a small net of cracks beginning to form around the center. "Kame~Kame~Shedder~r~r~r~r!" He shouted, suddenly leaping towards Abigail and retreating back into his shell. He spun at a high velocity again, but before coming into range of Abigail, pit flew out of his head-hole in an area-wide misty spray, threatening to burn whatever it could cling to.

[Assistant]
Abigail frowned at the destruction as well as it's failure to cause any harm to the marine enemy. It was a pretty good trick, and against nearly any other foe would have left a lot more of a mark. As it was the man-turtle didn't look any worst for the wear. If anything, he seemed a great deal happier than he'd been for the whole encounter. It was a bit depressing.

Her hand was still on the blade's handle when the acid spinning top rushed towards her. With a bit of effort it was certain she could get it out, but it was deep enough that there wasn't any way to do it without some elbow grease. "Well damn it!"

She jumped out of the way as the turtle came closer and ran towards the opposite side of the room. "Damn it! Damn it!" She mumbled looking around for whatever it was she was going to do next. "Why can't anything be simple?" She held her hand up and narrowed her eyes. Red sparks of electricity started swarming around her hand.

"Well, maybe this time there'll be more of an effect." She grinned and pointed her open palm at the Yami.

[User]
It appeared that Yami had decided that Zypha was the lesser of the two threats, and he would be right normally considering that Abigail was the Devil Fruit user; however, Zypha was also very astute at finding the next big gamble. Zypha managed to get away almost scott-free from the earlier destruction and now she chased after Yami while having to avoid the spit that spewed over her way.

Acid went everywhere but her atheletism won out despite the pain. Good old guts never failed and at this point the adrenaline was really starting to kick in. As she weaved through the waves her keen eyes saw a discrepency on his shell, it seemed slightly, cracked. So this was it, their chance to push through and end this battle.

Looking up at the ceiling, which now had a bunch of cracks in it, she found her position. Reattaching her scythe she threw one up into the ceiling and climbed up by the chain. Finding cracks she positioned herself as close to over Yami as possible. Narrowing her eyes she looked at the center of his shell and aimed right for the center.

"Girls had persistent guys ya know that!"

Dislodging herself from the ceiling and pushing off with her feet, she positioned her scythe out in front of her, a firm grip on the handles she positioned herself so all her weight would fall on the blades when she struck for maximum force. If the blades managed to penetrate the shell that would be for the best but even if they didn't her next move would be the same, to take her scythe and jump out of the way as soon as possible so she wouldn't be electrified.

[Assistant] Yami stopped shooting forward as Abigail dodged his attack, but didn't stop spinning. Instead, he prepared to follow after her again, but in the last moment, he felt something hard striking against the back of his shell just as he was within a few feet of toppling Abigail over with his Kame~Kame Shredder. The impact stopping his spinning entirely, but he wasn't about to give up despite the cracks in his shell getting longer and wider. Zypha's blade hadn't penetrated his shell just yet! With a loud roar, he pushed his hands out of his shell, and grabbed onto Zypha's scythe in the nick of time, allowing the blades to cut into his hands ever so slightly. He wasn't able to move after that though, which was made obvious when his body hit the ground. He popped his head out at Abigail and smiled wide, desperate to discourage her at that point. "GO AHEAD, BRAT. SHOCK US!"

[User]
Abigail watched Zypha rush to attack the turtle opponent, confident in her friend's ability. So it came as somewhat of a surprise that the end result of the assault was her only crew mate tied up with the last remaining marine enemy on the island. She shouldn't have been surprised. The MArine leader was a step above the rest, but she was, and that pissed her off.

Fist clenched at her side. "Oh god's damn it!" She bit her teeth and power started surging out of her like two fuzzy blankets after a tumble in the dryer. "There's always got to be something in the way hasn't there." Then she smiled. "Well, then we'll play that game." She held up her open palm and started sliding to the left, but she didn't let her hand waver an inch from its target.

"Zypha, keep him there. I'm going to grab my sword and shove it as far into one of that bastard's holes as far as it'll go. Sounds good?" She kept on sliding the shorter way towards her blade. "And then, just to make sure he doesn't survive that I'm going to fry him from the inside. What with his body being as good as an insulator it is, I'm sure no more than a few sparks will make it to you."

[Assistant]
It was annoying but her latest attempt met with failure. Despite all the force and pressure she was unable to get through the shell and now Yami had her scythes in his hands. Yami's grip was too strong on her scythes to pull free, essentially trapping her on top of him, or at least would have if she couldn't unattach the chains at will.

As Abigail yelled out her plan Zypha moved quickly. Discarding her scythes for the moment she quickly wrapped the chain around Yami's hands, tying them together. Next she did a Houdini, shimmying out of the chains wrapped around her body she threw a loop of chain toward his head, planning to wrap it around his neck for good measure while keeping a firm grip on the chain. She was not about to let go until the last possible second to make sure Abigail could get a clean shot at Yami.

"Don't let this guy have his way any longer and finish him alright?" Zypha yelled back while keeping a firm grip on the chain to keep Yami from going anywhere.


[System]
Gender: Male
Birthday: Nonae Maiis ('Nones of May', May 7th), 55 BC
Age: 23
Height & Weight: 179cm, 79kg

Appearance:
Generally carries the same build and fair complexion of Roman youth, although one toughened by his early adult years of service in the Roman Army. Possess a well-trimmed crop of black hair underneath his helmet and his blue-irised eyes are usually focused on either the enemy to his front or the immediate task at hand.

Weaponry
Gladius Hispaniensis (early Roman legion sword)
Scutum (shield)
Two pila (weighted javelins); and
Pugio (dagger)

Armour/Uniform
Lorica Harmatia (chain mail)
Republic-era legionary helmet with cheek-plates and tri-feathered plume
Greaves
Balteus (sword belt)
Caligulae (hobnailed boots)
Short-sleeved woollen tunic
Focale (anti-chafing scarf); and
Subligaria (underpants)

Sarcina (military pack), mounted on a furca and containing the following:

Cloak bag, containing both of the legionary's cloaks (a sagum and a paenela),
Approx. two weeks rations and personal waterskin (usually with enough water for a day's march),
Spare tunic and subligaria,
Cooking equipment (cooking pot, mess dish, cup and basic utensils),
Entrenching tools – dolabra (entrenching tool or mattock), turf-cutter and wicker basket,
Two sudes (wall stakes), for constructing a marching camp's (castra) wall; and
Titus' personal effects, such as letters, personal items, effigies of his patron gods and so on, contained in a small satchel.

Assets: None … at least, for now.

Merits:
Five years of campaigning, garrison duties and the odd clash with the Gauls has hardened Titus into an aspirant Legion officer. Generally calm in the face of the foe and able to act on his own initiative if a tactical opportunity presents itself.

Flaws:
While capable of acting on any orders given to him, the hardest one for Titus to ascede to is for a withdrawal or to give ground to the foe; as a Roman and a legionary, he believes that to retreat in the face of the enemy without due cause is cowardice. As a result, it usually requires either one of his fellow Legionaries or his cohort's Centurion to reiterate an order to fall back for Titus to do so likewise; a trait that has already seen him 'dressed down' by his centurion three years ago and one that Titus finds difficult to suppress.

Additionally, while he recognises his adopted noble heritage, he currently doesn't possess any major drive to become a member of the Senate. He instead prefers to work his way up the Legion ranks and focusing on his merits rather then political connections - this results in him usually shunning political contacts and leverage when it would otherwise be advantageous him.

Tragic Flaw:
None, at least by the time this story begins. Time and the strands of Fate, however, can only tell.

Personality:

As an adopted son of a patrician family, Titus usually does his utmost to uphold personal and military standards to the highest feasibly possible. Conversely, he is no Stoic and will usually avail himself of the odd hard-one reward or luxury gifted to him by his commander for exemplary service - his increased pay as a decanus could be interpreted as a reflection of that.

Generally, Titus has himself "squared away" and will knuckle down to focus on whatever assigned task is ordered of him. Perhaps reflecting his traditionalist upbringing, he had possessed a firm faith in the Senate and its members - confident that they were capable of doing good and holding a fracturing Republic together. Such faith, however, had been badly shaken and, as a result, Titus transplants such devotion to the gods of Rome.

As part of his piousness to the gods and while doing his utmost not to neglect all of them, Titus usually dedicates his prayers and small sacrifices to three of the main Roman pantheon:

Jupiter – God of thunder and head of the Roman Pantheon. Prayed to as patron god of both Rome and the army (though it goes without needing to explain why),

Minerva – Goddess of wisdom, war and strategy. Prayed to for success in battle and as patroness of the XIX Legion; and

Diana– Huntress of the gods and goddess of the woodlands. Prayed to for protection against the beasts (and, it could be argued, barbarians) that prowl the Gaelic woods, as well as for good fortune in his own expeditions. Thus far (save for open clashes against the Gauls), it seems Titus has remained in Diana's good graces.

Culture and Country:
Latin
Tusculum (original family), Etruscan-Roman (by adoption)

Languages: Latin

Public Record:
Currently not a lot is known in the wider public record regarding Titus. However, according to legion records, Legatus Gaius Varus promoted the legionary to Decanus in 33BC. The general cited Titus' improvised command of his contubernium during a reconnaissance assignment in Gaul, which resulted in the legion able to prematurely ambush and wipe out a major Gaulish force while they were encamped.

It later emerged that this barbarian army had been the fighting force of one of the last Gaulish holdouts in Amorica (modern day Brittany); said community would be subsequently 'flattened' by the 19th and the nearby 15th Legions after a second battle two days later. On viewing the burning remains of the town, Titus boasted to his centurion, "Caesar would have been proud: all Gaul is now Rome's!"

Private Information:
As he had been part of the Roman Army since adulthood, not much regarding Titus' private life (outside of the legion's camp duty and the extremely rare temporary rotation back to Italia) seems worthy of note. While his adopted father had encouraged him to pursue an office in the Senate, the presently-toxic environment and the constant duties away from home have actively discouraged him from pursuing a political career so far.

Loyalty:
II Contubernium, V Centuria, IX Cohort, XIX Legion 'Scions of Minerva' - an Octavian-affiliated Roman Legion

While he personally opts for a stable form of Pompeian-minded government compared to the present upheaval, the 19th Legion has declared itself for Octavian and Titus cannot renege on his enlistment. As a result, he is swept up in the Civil War between the Triumverate nominally on Octavian's side.

Political Rank: -
Military Rank: Legionary Decanus (II Contubernium, V Centuria)

Skills:

WARRIOR

Infantry
Light Weapon (Gladius Hispaniensis) (Trained)
Light Weapon (Pugio) (Knowledgeable)
Shield (Scutum) (Trained)
Armour (Lorica Harmata) (Knowledgeable)

Skirmisher
Throwing Weapon (Pilum) (Trained)

OFFICER

Tactical
Personal Initiative (Knowledgeable) (only applicable to II Contubernium at this time)

???:

Fate:

Miracle:

Legion Number: XIX Legion ('Scions of Minerva')
Legion Founded: 19th March, 108 BC

Legion's Founding Region: Roma, Italia
Current Posting: Amorica, Gaul
Patron God: Minerva
Legion Emblem: A depiction of the Owl of Minerva surmounted on two crossed pila, with the Legion's number (in Latin numerals) underneath.

Legion Legatus: Legatus Gaius Cominius Varus (former), Decimus Aelius (current)
Style of Leadership: The former legatus in command of the XIX did not stand out from many of his contemporaries; like other legates, he's a stern disciplinarian, a drilled tactician and strategist and no slouch when it came to wielding the spatha from his mount. He had recognised the usefulness of the recently-formed 11th Cohort and generally allowed their commander a bit more battlefield independence.

Of course, there's always a metaphorical rod at the ready to reign this ticking battlefield time-bomb back in; as a result, 11th Cohort members are entrusted with the same expected discipline as the rest of the army. They are not driven into the ground as slaves, but they are expected to face the same penalties as the other cohorts - even if it should mean the rare (but bloody) decimation.

Previous Actions:

- Participated in the latter stages of the Cimbrian War (then known as XXII Legio) from 107 BC - 101 BC. Was on the Roman Order of Battle at the Battles of Aquae Sextiae (102 BC) and Vercellae (101 BC).

- Revived in Rome during the Social War. Fought in the Third Servile War at the disastrous Battle of the Colline Gate against Sulla - predictably, they and the defending Roma-Italians lost. XXII Legio subsequently disbanded.

- Legion resurrected and renamed as the XIX Legion 'Scions of Minerva', at the outset of Julius Caesar's campaign in Gaul in 60 BC. Legion fought alongside Caesar throughout Gaul until the campaign's end in 50 BC; remained in the region to preserve the Pax Romania and to put down any rebellion attempts or resisting communities the Romans had overlooked.

11th Cohort Composition: Drawn from both Italia and (when possible) from Gaulish levies within the occupied provinces. Similar to a "line" legionary cohort, though with their own methods of fighting and own command structure at centuria level. Typically armed and armoured like the main-line soldiers, though they are allowed a limited increase in scope of uniform dress - it is their ability and disclipline that, at the end of the day, will count the most.

11th Cohorts Primus Prior: Centurion Primus Tiberius Marcius Corvus (Legion liaison), as-of-yet unidentified Centurion Priestess (de facto)

[User]
Silence is Golden

Aelia smiled, it seemed like they would go with her plan, for now at least. Getting to the mansion would be the easy part, getting in was questionable. Provided they got in, though, it would be an easy task to complete their mission from there.

Aelia responded to Sanngridr, "Yes, I know how to reach his home. Come, provided we can talk our way in, this should be an easy affair."

With that, Aelia took the lead, heading toward Flavius' mansion.

[Assistant]
Preservation of Democracy

Athens, patron city to the goddess of wisdom herself. Only fitting that it be a bastion of philosophical, scientific, and political progress within the Republic, with stores of knowledge second only to those of Alexandria. The city's market place was alive with the bustling of commerce and trade. Livestock, salesmen, and disgruntle customers contributing to a great roar that seemed to be alive in its own right. Philosophers and their students gathered upon the steps of great monuments or within fine gardens, discussing their views on life, the universe, and everything in it. Politicians argue with one another in their great courthouse, the process of democracy pushing ever onward!

Departed from their vessel, Pompey's agents have taken a carriage to the market place, now let loose into the city-state to bring the people to their cause. Pompey has obviously put his trust in their competence and ability, whether it is misplaced is yet to be seen.

[User]
Road To Knowledge:

Losing her pets was heartbreaking, but she was sure they'd get their spot in Valhalla. They might not take the form as the common man, but they were greater warriors than many, as shown by the majority of the ship's inhabitants. Godelvia would make sure that these oarsmen, as well as these hired street rats would never go to Valhalla. They were undeserving on that paradise.

" Thanks for the concern. I know they will be welcomed, and they will show skills far greater than many warriors who are already there. "

Godelvia was going to walk over and wrap the corpses of her animals up, but Kára seemed like she wanted to talk a bit. It wasn't like Godelvia really got people, but walking towards someone slowly, especially with a smile on your face, seemed like something an animal might do. If an animal could smile of course.

Well, it would be rude not to talk with the girl who fought alongside you. It would be like not petting and feeding your animals when they were done fighting.

" Thank you Kára for handling the other ship, along with Amelia. I have to ask something though, what is it like when you're in that. . . form? You didn't really seem like, well, yourself. "

Interacting with Kára became a bit more easy know that Godelvia knew she could turn into an animal, if you could consider that thing an animal.

[Assistant]
A Wild Goose Chase

"Hmm, it was," Titus replied to Agripena, removing his helmet to smooth his shock of hair. "Mind, I heard that the centurion had been fairly notorious in the Legion's for his overly stern discipline. Some legionaries even nicknamed him 'Bring-Me-Another' due to his habit of-"

A shout suddenly arose from one of the crewmen, causing a flurry of activity to begin on deck. Collecting his gear, Titus strode forward until he was near the prow; he shaded his eyes and peered on the sight that loomed before the ships: the coastline of Britannia.

"Thanks be to Neptune; we made it." he thanked said god of the sea, relieved that their crossing hadn't met undue disaster. Turning to Ari, he muttered an apology. "My apologies, priestess, but I can't speak any further for now - I must report to my Centurion and ready my contubernium for landing. Perhaps once we are ashore and on the march, we could speak later?"

He started towards the steps towards the lower deck when a thought struck him - he hadn't asked or given his name. Turning back to her, he quickly added, "Oh, you may call me Titus; Titus Licinius Nerva Flavianus, if you prefer the full name."


[System]
* Age: 16
* Gender: Female
* Race: Human
* Appearance: Armored, Unarmored. She is 5'1, with pale skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair. Her armor is silver with gold decorations. Her sword has a golden hilt.
* Personality: Fanilly is one to take her duty seriously. This is both due to a belief in the cause of the Iron Rose Knights, and a severe insecurity and self-consciousness about her position. She is well aware that she is young and comparatively inexperienced. She knows that she is only in the position she is because of her birth, as she was born under a full moon. This only makes her feel worse about it. For Fanilly Danbalion, captain of the Iron Rose Knights, she can't help but feel that they have a point. She's young. And even though the founder was the same age, she was viewed as something miraculous, almost a saint. Should Fanilly truly be leading them? This weighs heavily on her mind, and thus one of her biggest desires is to prove that she is. In spite of her young age, in spite of how this tradition has worn thin for some, Fanilly wants to prove that she is a worthy captain of the Iron Rose Knights above all else. Aside from this desire, the girl is somewhat socially awkard, sometimes unprepared for conversation. However, she is not really shy and can generally deal with attending various functions in the capital, as is expected of the Iron Rose Knights. She is dedicated to the purpose of the order, to defend the innocent and protect the land of Thaln. However, the doubts surrounding her have lead to a lack of confidence in herself. Fanilly has a younger sister and as a result has a somewhat stronger affinity for children and desire to keep the safe, but as someone dedicated to the Iron Rose Knights' cause she wishes to protect all those in need. While she has a lacking in confidence, she retains some pride in her training, as she has proven to be skilled at swordplay in spite of her youth.
* Brief Backstory: Fanilly was a daughter of the Danbalion family, a noble family already. While they had never been knights, her birth on a full moon immediately made her a potential future candidate for the Iron Rose Knights' captain. She was simply needed sooner then many expected. And so she experienced training for several years leading up to her instatement as the Captain of the Iron Rose Knights. Initially she was confident in herself, but it quickly became clear that even some within the Knights had grown tired of the tradition of selecting a maiden born on a full moon to be the captain. This wore on her quickly, and has lead to her desperation to prove herself.
* Equipment: Fanilly wears a well-made set of somewhat ornate armor. She wields a fine longsword in her right hand and a dagger with a curved hilt for trapping weapons in her left.
* Skills: Fanilly has experienced extensive training in swordplay, specifically in the use of a longsword in both hands, or paired with a unique parrying dagger.

[User]
Marianne Delacroix

Blinking as a bandit was suddenly killed mere feet away from her by a crossbow bolt, Marianne stopped in her tracks. Turning her head as yet another bandit was killed by an ice spell cast, she looked around for their sources and was pleased to see Sir Ian and Sir Tiral. Graciously being afforded a moment to catch her breath thanks to her allies. A thin sheen of sweat coated her skin, her attire damp and sticking to her body. Panting heavily, she watched as both crossbow bolts and icicles flew about the battlefield dropping bodies like flies. She had to conserve some of her energy, as she tired rather quickly. Especially if she still intended to aid the Captain. Turning to Sir Tiral, she was a little confused as to why he was apologizing. Did comrades not commonly fight side by side? As she thought over Sir Tiral's words, she nodded wordlessly in agreement with his plan. It was a great plan, after all. What better and quicker way than to douse the flames and allow their forces a direct path to regroup with the Captain?

Looking over to Sir Ian, who neared them at a slight clip, her face grew saddened when she realized he was injured. He was nursing his arm and his gait was affected by yet a different wound it seemed. Eyes widening and mouth slightly agape, she noticed Sir Ian's hood had fallen back and saw his ears. Her expression lighting up visibly, despite her environment.

"He's Hundi!?"

She thought to herself, forgetting where she was and the situation she was in.
She had never met a Hundi in person, only having heard stories and reading about them in books.
She took a step forward, wanting to touch those ears as her hand partway lifted.
But she stopped and shook her head as regained her composure.
Clearing her throat, she turned back to Sir Tiral.
Looking around her, she finally offered her response.

"Please, Sir Tiral. You insult me. Just 'miss', is fine. I'm not betrothed yet. I'm still a young woman."

She laughed, smiling. Referring to his usage of the word 'madam'.

"But yes, your idea is sound. The battle here is nearly over and won. I'll command my forces to the base of the fallen tree and we'll provide you with cover as you work. Once the flames are out, I'll begin to cast my own magic and support the Captain from afar. It should be more than enough to strike down that false 'King' Jeremiah."

After referring to the bandit as a 'King', she turned her head and spat at the ground to rid herself of the disgusting aftertaste.
Such a title should only be reserved for the most honorable and noble. For the most respectful leaders of this world, not to be sullied by such filth. To consider the bandit leader Jeremiah as a 'King' would be to insult her own father.
There was a sudden commotion as a few bandits began to lay down their weapons and kneeled with their arms raised, offering their surrender.
Eying a bandit waving a makeshift white flag, Marianne stared at him for a moment before turning back to Sir Tiral and Sir Ian.

"We must act quickly." She said softly to them.

Turning to her men plus their additions, she issued her orders.

"Men! Be mindful of the bandits that lay down their arms to surrender! Do not murder them senselessly and attempt to restrain them, we are not barbarians! Continue to subdue any who dare raise arms at you! Move to the base of the fallen tree, as we are providing support to Sir Tiral and Sir Ian!"

She said, her projecting her voice as loudly as she could so that her words carried far.
Thankfully, they all seemed to hear her clearly as a resounding cheer was their response to her.
Smiling somehow, Marianne slashed at the empty open air to flick excess blood on her blade to the ground as she turned back to her two comrades.

"Let us move. Sir Ian, did you need me to stay close to your side? Or can you still move and fight with your wounds?"

She said as she began to walk forward, towards the tree. Partly to offer her genuine aid to him, partly because she wanted a closer look at those ears of his. Did he a tail, also? She would have to sneak a look when she could.

[Assistant]
With the lines moving forward and the camp being cleared Ian fired one last time before putting the crossbow away. He stayed behind as the troops pressed on with the intent on finding better care for his wounds, or at least staying out of the majority of the fighting until he could, but he was soon approached by Marianne, the knightess showing concern for his wounds.

He smiled "ah please, I could use a hand" he made to lean on her though with his shorter stature he had to put his arm around her waist and lean into her side "I can still shoot if you need me to, if you can find me a spot to shoot from and I may need some help reloading" one of his ears unconsciously flicked against her arm "if not, I may just find a place nearby to rest until I can get this seen to" He let out a slight groan of pain as he shifted his broken arm.

[User]
Sir Garrett
Themerlinhawk

Sir Garrett barely noticed the back up that had made it to the fight with Fanilly and the Giant of a man. As the Knight Slayer threw the captain Sir Garrett flanked him and swung his sword towards the man's left leg aiming at the Achilles tendon. Following the cut he brought the sword in a smooth arc and swung it at the man's clavicle aiming to remove the man's man left arm by cutting through the joint since it lacked any kind of actual armor.

Catching the flash of light off to his left Sir Garrett launched himself to the right moving away from any kind of counter attack and out of the way of burning embers Sult had launched at the Knight slayer.

What a presumptuous name I think it is high time to teach you a lesson.

The thought surged to the front of Garrett's already narrow focus as he prepared to fend off any sort of counter attack that the man launched at him. Regardless of how dangerous the Knight slayer was eventually the other knights would simply overrun him and Tyaetha wasn't going to let Fanilly die. This fight was already over it was only a matter of time really.

[Assistant]
Hot ash scored across Gillian's face as the tree slammed into the battlefield. 'Ah, just what this needed. Even MORE burning timber.' he though, following the offending fir (or was it an oak? Botany was not his strong point) to its point of origin and was surprised to find a giant of a man bearing down on the young captain. "The hell is she doing up-" he begins to say, cut off abruptly as he feels a sharp pain across his ear and the whizzing of a bolt in flight.

Out of reflex he raises his shield and backs up quickly, resisting every urge in his body to paw at the fresh gash. His comrades seems to not share his reaction, screaming forward (in one case quit literally), to aid the captain. Calming his momentary panic, he looks for the origin of the shot. 'Lucky shot?...' he thinks, watching as the offending crossbowmen and his friends where over taken by Tyaethe's forces. 'No. too many. Ambush. Well laid too...", he thinks, looking over the devastation. While few in Fanilly's charge were hurt (it seemed Sir Aethelmund's forces claimed the majority of the honors) they were woefully out of position, cut off from both their captain and the fray. They held their position, slaughtering any bandit still on their side who was too dumb or too desperate to escape the flames to stay away, but were hesitant to do much else, fearing another trap.

Gillian cursed it all, the damage to morale (much less the physical) had crippled their line. The only savings grace was the flaming sanctuary the felled tree provided. The situation called for a charismatic, tactical young knight to step up and take charge! But Gillian didnt see any candidates in the throng of knights(self included), so he'd have to wing it. "..P.." He shouts above the ruckus, barely sure of what he was doing (engagements like this were why he was a mercenary). "PIN THE REMAINING BANDITS BETWEEN US AND THE FIRE, WE'RE GOING TO MOVE TO THE RIGHT FLANK AND GET AROUND IT. THEN PRESS ONWARD TO THE MIDDLE!" He calls out as the company begins to move, though purely from a sense of urgency rather than and regard for rank. "If I live through this Klien, I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life....", he thinks bitterly, hoping he'd not just doomed the very charge he was in (or any of the others).


[System]
Physical Form: Clotho is a foot taller than most men, with long arms and legs, and has a chitinous exoskeleton that is a dull brown-maroon in color. Four gossamer rounded wings, transparent green with orange edges, form into a cloak when not in use. Her shell forms into a barbaric-style armor around her shoulders, knees and thighs, gauntlets, and chest. Small spikes line many of the edges of her shell. Her face is crossed with seams, her nose is inhumanly sharp, and her wide mouth is lined with razor-sharp teeth. A shock of black hair more like spines protrudes from the top of her head. Additionally, her eyes are a bright, luminescent green, with layered pupil rings. Instead of hair, two membranous mini-wings protruding from her upper back form into a hood.

Abilities: Clotho's wings grant her the power of flight, which she can perform with almost ludicrous speed and agility. Her insect carapace functions like armor, affording her ample protections. Hidden inside her left forearm is the Stinger, which she can project from her palm for stabbing. The Stinger can inject a variety of toxins into a target, all of which are manufactured chemically within Clotho's own glands. Such toxins include 'poison', 'paralysis', 'mutation', 'subordination', 'blindness', and 'calcification'.

Cloth also has the ability to command bugs and parasites. Aside from conjuring flies, hornets, leeches, worms, and flesh-eating beetles, sometimes in vast swarms, she also controls her own minions in the form of Myrmidons, Lambent, and Antlions. These she orders around via chirp-calls, and she has no true leadership ability.

The true combat ability of Clotho, however, lies in her rapier. With a barbed tip, it can slide into flesh cleanly and eviscerate it on the way out. Its flexible blade allows Clotho to lash the tip around when fighting, cutting and gashing opponents as she opens them up for a thrust. Its deceptive deadliness, couple with Clotho's uncanny speed and notable strength, make it a lethal tool of destruction.

Personality: A certain conflict underlies Clotho's convincing exterior. Deep inside she is still Nona, confused and reticent and immature. This directly disparages with the aged experience of the that melded its soul with hers, whose bloodthirsty monstrosity has guided her thus far as a Keeper. The union of the two distinct spirits produced Clotho, a cunning, intelligent imperialist. Clotho is without conscious barring the distant, faint murmurs of the suppressed girl within her, and will kill without question, though good judgment keeps her from exercising this often. Though self-centered, she is more than willing to make alliances and deals for mutual gain, and will even adhere to them—an behavior unheard of among most such creatures.

Wants/Needs: Clotho lusts for power and control. She wants nothing more than to rise through the ranks of her master and become both his most powerful warrior and most trusted ally. Eventually, Clotho wishes to gain the ability to become a Dungeon Keeper herself, though she does not plan whatsoever on betraying her current master.

Relationships: None

Backstory: Clotho was once human, an urchin of Virens. This premier logging town, situated in the Oerwood Forest north of the Saploya river, was home to over two hundred thousand, but never truly to a girl called Nona. Surviving by her wits and her knack for finding odd jobs, she later became reliant on the family of Theo Rosenstern. Theo, playing the nobleman as well as the romantic, sought to feel better about his own clan's success and gain a girlfriend in the process by hanging out with Nona and helping her get by. Ever in need of aid, Nona accepted, forming an uneasy relationship with the boy while trying to make ends meet. From a young age, the Biomancer's Guild of Virens, responsible for the magical acceleration of conditioning of the city's saplings and crops, had fascinated her, but her own lowly beginnings and ineptitude for magic estranged her from the organization.

It was in this stagnation, during her nineteenth year of a woeful life, that a voice first reached out to her through her dreams. Its whispers, low and meaningless at first, grew in strength as she became more desperate, and finally its message became clear: journey into the jungle and find a special insect. After convincing Theo to accompany her, Nona left in the morning to pursue her dream. Hours later, she arrived in an unpeopled lumber camp miles from the city limits. Upon entering the shack at its center, she beheld a nasty-looking metallic green wasp confined in a jar. In a trance, she seized the jar -totally unresponsive to Theo's urges- and smashed it against the ground, freeing the wasp. Immediately it stung her, injecting into her the ancient soul of an insidious being of darkness—Kafka.
The two minds, girl and monster, melded, and in the process her own body transformed into its current state. Long before the modification finished, Theo took to his heels. That day, Clotho came to be.

From there she imposed herself on the forest, thinking to become a force of darkness. Though the self-appointed Vermin Queen stockpiled quite the retinue of mindless insectoid minions, and gave the nearby towns a great deal of trouble, she never quite lived up to the status of an evil overlord. After a botched attempt to obliterate her former hometown caused an army of avenging townsfolk to converge on her lair, she fled south until she happened to find one of the Overlord's bands. After wiping the plains with them, she sought the Overlord's dungeon, and pledged her service to him without question.

[User]
When Twich was given his latest task from the Master, a part of him was somewhat annoyed that he was being called away from his experiments so soon after they had began. Granted they were only the preliminary tests but being absent for them might result in him losing information and delaying his research.

While not ideal, Twich managed to rope a couple of Imps into staying in his lab and gave them some basic instructions; They were never to touch the bodies, they were to observe and keep note of anything out of the ordinary that happened and if one of them died they were to write down the time of their death (Twich had made sure his clock was properly freshly winded up for just that purpose). It was the best he could do under such a sudden deadline through...

Speaking of the mission that he had been given, Twich's mind was already combing through his current set of objectives and the information that the Master had to provide for the third time as it tried to piece together a plan of action. He already had a fairly decent way to pin it on the humans and have already sent a messenger to the Master requesting at least two weapons and two sets of armor from whatever passed for the town watch from that village that they had raided the day before. A second messenger had been dispatched to whatever lair That Which Consumes Peace had taken for itself with a request that it carefully pick two of its slaves to come with them; They would not be coming back.

At least there was the starting of a plan; First and foremost they needed more intel but that would have to wait for them to arrive there. Taking the time to make sure he had his supplies topped up, the kobold went to meet with the rest of his team and get underway.

[Assistant]
Shukra received word of what was to be done, and sighed. No rest for the wicked, as the saying went. He took a sip of the stale mead the orcs had made, and let out a sigh. A larger village, wanted intact, with sizable defenses. He took another sip from the stone mug, then grunted. And the master put a bloodthirsty barbarian in charge of an operation like this. It was foolish, madness, idiotic. Some of the orcs around him could see his frustration, and began to make themselves scarce. His frustration often led to someone getting burned, and while it was rare that someone died because of it, no one wanted to be out of commission and miss a raid. But, as it were, he didn't want any of them out either. There was no telling what the others would bring, but he was going to bring as few of his own as possible to the fight. He wouldn't get them all killed in whatever hairbrained scheme Athinar cooked up.

The enchanted equipment had been handed out, but those men would stay behind and lead in his absense. It seemed that he would be out in the field more than he would be conquering the mountains, as he wished. No matter. The orcs weren't going anywhere. They had no drive, simply killing and eating, living like animals. All the better to make them his. They were weak minded, easily pliable. He would correct that with the introduction of humans to his forces, but for now, he'd have to rely on his own mind and their brute strength. It would be enough, for now. The cat scratched his chin, then stood and began rounding up some forces. Now that he thought about it, he might benefit himself by coming in full. Ah, decisions, decisions.

Rather than consult with his own forces, he began to make his way towards his quarters. Which consisted of little more than a large pavilion made of animal hides crudely stitched together, with a bed, chair, and desk inside of it. He sat at the desk, facing a tall, wide mirror. He mumbled a few words and passed his hand over the mirror, and in to view came Athinar, who was just now shouting for the others that were put under his command. Rolling his eyes, he tapped on the glass. "Athinar, turn around," he said, his rich voice coming from behind the oaf. There would be am image of Shukra, just his head and shoulders, but there. He narrowed his eyes slightly, then said, "My forces and I await orders." His voice was calm and cold, showing his obvious lack of respect for Athinar.

[User] Azavarn didn't bother sleeping, mainly do to the fact that he didn't need to, so he had spent his night in the dungeon's tavern, though it would be more suitable to call it a filthy hole in the ground. The demon's evening consisted of out drinking the imps, no easy feat given the pigswill that they were serving, and swindling them out of whatever trinkets they were willing to bet. It was only a matter of time that one of the imps spilled the news that Azavarn would be heading out on the next raid, and to be lead by one of the humans no less. So he took it upon himself to wait in the larger cavern in the cave, and just as he thought Athinar came there and began to bellow for those who would be joining him. " 'Bout time you woke up boss, thought I was going to have to wait all day. I don't have eternity you know... Wait I actually do." Azavarn said with his usual sly smile on his face, he was seated on a near by bolder. He got up and walked over to the muscle bound human just as the fur ball Shukra appeared. He couldn't help but smirk, the 'warlord' had quite the ego didn't he. "As great as it would to have the orcs around, I don't think they would be great for this action. You know keeping the town unflattened." He said as he looked at the mirror image of the cat man. "Though, if I may be so bold as to give to advice, I would recommend that you order your forces to surround the town. They would make quite the useful neat for catching any runaways." He said before he turned on his hill to face Athinar. "And our oh so brawny leader may I suggest that you allow me to do what I do best and make a deal?" He said in a calm tone. "You put some muscle down on the little settlements around the town, let word get back to whoever is in charge. With the panic of an attack on their mind making a deal for ownership of the village will be easy."

[Assistant]
The rabbit took some wrangling to remove from its little box and keep in place upon the table, but it was nothing that the swarm queen couldn't do. With the alchemist and his young assistant looking on in fearful but intrigued anticipation, Clotho pinned the small animal on the table and held up her left hand. From a groove in the palm, a short, bladelike prong emerged, leaking a dark liquid that glistened in the yellow-green firefly-lanterns' light. Once her stinger had fully extended, Clotho reached down toward the captured mammal's belly and nicked the skin beneath its scrubby brown fur.

The changes were immediate. Growing very still but for the occasional twitch, the rabbit began to slough off its hair. Where the fur fell off, greenish plates of chitin formed, taking on a rough similarity to segmented plate armor. Legs grew longer, and a third pair began to branch from the middle of the bunny's torso. Its ears hardened and curved inward, like the prongs of a Hercules beetle, and even the texture of its eyes altered until the thing's vision was compounded. Spiky mandibles extended around its mouth, and its teeth grew sharp while joining to the gums. "Fascinating," Clotho breathed. "Now for the moment of truth." She let the miniature monster go.

Predictably, it remained statuesque except for the constant motion of its orange eyes. This gratified Clotho immensely. "The prototype serum is satisfactory. Subject's body structure has been altered immensely, and..." she gave a sharp, high-pitched chirp, and the former rabbit rolled onto its back. "...it is fully receptive to instruction. Congratulations, alchemist Omer," she said to the man. "It would appear that you're useful to me after all. I understand the knowledge is limited, but please continue to work on the serum as much as you can. Work assured that if you do well I shall not use it on you. Soon I will leave, and you know what fate awaits you should you venture out of my hive."

At that moment, an imp rushed into the room. Before it could even blink, Clotho had reacted, her rapier drawn and nestled against its throat, prompting a terrified squeak. If she'd still have been human, Clotho would have rolled her eyes. "Announce your presence next time, small one," she chided as she replaced her rapier on her back. "I am not fond of surprises. Do you have news from the Master?"

Afterward, Clotho was pleased indeed. "Dwarves...master builders and engineers, and less well known, alchemists. This could be exactly the thing you need to complete my transformation toxin." She zipped into the hive's main atrium, where the bulk of her forces spent their time. Looking down upon on Myrmidons, Antlions, and Lambent, she silently thanked the Master for giving her an opportunity for her minions to shine. A series of clicks and shrieks communicated everything that Clotho required, and soon after she emerged from her dungeon with her minions not far behind. At the entrance, she encountered Twitch, who the imp had said would be joining her on the mission. "Hello again, whiskered one. The Master has trusted us with a task most important. I am sure the both of us will prove beyond a doubt's shadow that we are worthy of his trust." A quick look around determined the absence of Ekusha and That Which Consumes Peace. "The demon and the spirit have not yet arrived?"