[System]
"I'm the daringest devil you ever met, love."
Physical Form
Azavarn is rather human looking for a demon. He stands at 6'4" in height and has a lean, muscular body build. He has long crimson hair that hangs down to the back of his neck and a beard of the same color that runs along his jawline. The only things that breaks the illusion of Azavarn's humanity would be his skin, it being ash grey, as well as his eyes which are a deep blood red and give off a faint glow. He wears a series of pitch black clothes, such as his leather trench coat, black combat boots, and his wide brim hat.

Abilities
"I Just Make It Look Easy."
Azavarn's physical abilities are far sharper than those of a normal mortal's. He moves so fast that he appears like a mere blur of movement. He is so agile and dexterous that he can grab an arrow out of the air and throw it back at its original shooter. He can preform flips, dodges, jumps, and other maneuvers that would put the most talented acrobats to shame.
"I Don't Miss, Darling."
Azavarn is a marksman with no compare, his accuracy is beyond that of mortal men. He can pin a fly to a tree with a single arrow from three-hundred yards away without killing it. He can draw and fire arrows with such speed that he seems like a one man firing squad. His mindboggling marksman skills are not limited to just a bow and arrow, from knives to or pistol if it can be thrown or fired Azavarn will assure it will hit its mark. He has quite recently throwing cards, they are quite good at giving Azavarn the cutting edge.
"Now You See Me, Now You're Dead."
Azavarn is able to step into one of the many passage ways into the hellish Netherworld and use them to transport himself across the mortal world, to others it will appear that he teleports.
"It Is A Bit Cramped In Here."
Azavarn has the ability to possess the bodies of those with a weaker will or those who have sold their soul, completely controlling them. Those with a stronger will can fight back, though it will be incredibly painful for them to try and force Azavarn out. Azavarn can be exorcised with the proper holy items and rituals.
"Lets Make A Deal."
Does a mortal want to be the best sword fighter in their backwater village? No problem. Do they want to be the most breath taking maiden in all the land? Done. Or maybe they want to be so rich that they sleep on a bed of gold? Easy. All of this can be done with a simple deal with Azavarn, and all he would ask for in exchange for is one itty bitty soul. Once a deal is struck there is no going back on it and that soul belongs to Azavarn for the rest of time, or he decides to release it to whomever he sees fit.

Personality
Do you know that no good, snake in the grass that swindled every coin in his pocket away from someone else and would sell there own grandmother if it meant they would get them a good stiff drink? Yeah Azavarn is the guy that taught that guy everything he knew. This demon has a tongue of pure silver, being able to talk the purest angels into sin. The majority of what comes out of Azavarn's mouth is either a sarcastic remark or a incredibly charming lie. He keeps his cool all the time, regardless if he is making a deal with a mortal or if he is in the heat of battle Azavarn keeps the same sly confidence. This demon can be described as the perfect businessman, getting a man to sign away the souls of his whole family for a sack of potatoes. Azavarn has a black heart, caring for nothing and no one save for himself. The way he sees it others are resources to be used to obtain his goals.

Wants/Needs
Azavarn just wants his right to steal, gamble, trick, torture, and kill his little black guts out back. Let him run his business and you will have a happy little demon on your hands.

Relationships
Who do you think coordinates all those demons making deals with so many mortals? Someone has to be in charge and hold all those souls and Azavarn just so happens to be the right kind of clever, evil bastard for the job. Azavarn runs the whole network of crossroad demons that spread across the land, he knows each and every soul that has been sold, stolen, or given away.

Backstory
"You want to know my story? Well pull up a chair, it is story time kiddos! Where do I begin? Hmmm a yes! Once upon a time there was a stunningly handsome demon. He was a master of his trade, helping poor poor mortals get the lives the always dreamed of and asking for so little in return, just their soul. This demon was so great at his job that he was dubbed, The King Of The Crossroads. Things were perfect for the king for a long time, countless amounts of souls coming in, but that all changed when the horrid age of "peace" began. Demon after demon were killed, deals came to a near halt, and the King had to go into hidings. That was about a thousand years ago and now the King is on the rise again, he has been getting more and more deals, more and more demons working for him, and more and more souls. It is only a matter of time before he is on top again! Now what will it take for me to get my hands on that pretty little soul of yours?"

Other
Azavarn is at home in the tavern, it being the perfect place for his work. With the ale flowing and egos boasting making a deal is child's play. It also helps to be so damn good looking and able to drink enough grog and ale that could kill the drunkest of orcs.

[User]
Athinar rode the horse hard, barely noting the kobold fleeing with a 'twitch' of his peripherals. Releasing the reins, he stood up in the saddle, as he came alongside the villagers, who looked up at the massive mans form with hope, however brief it was. Jumping away from the horse, he landed on top of a man's shoulders, forcing him to the ground, and shattering the collarbone, forcing him to writhe in agony, struggling for breath as his heart pumped blood through a broken body. Grinning beneath his mask, he simply stood next to the man's shattered form as the militia, shocked, came towards him in rage, fear, desperation. After all, he was only one man, right?

 Athinar inhaled. A man on the right. Sword. Swinging wildly. Easily deflecting it with the palm of his hand, Athinar grabbed the man's neck, and crushing his windpipe in his massive hand, Athinar knocked him unconscious with a headbutt, leaving him to suffocate to death. Not what Athinar would have wanted, but the Master would value efficiency over pleasure. Licking his lips, Athinar grinned. That would come later.

 The ragtag militia came to a halt, staring at this man who had made short work of two of their companions. The remaining twelve stood in despair. How would they face this man? Athinar, obviously displeased by what he had to do, raised his ice cold voice, chilling them to the bone. "You will drop your weapons. You will not try to attack me, or escape. Then, you will follow me, wearing these." Athinar held up a long chain of shackles that the Master had given him, ordering him to capture as many as possible. The Master saw that Athinar was displeased by the order, but he would follow it to the letter. Then, a balding man, holding a spear, charged him, howling, despite his companion's objections. Grinning, Athinar fell into rock style, and then dodged the spear as it was thrust at him. Shattering it with a massive forearm, he could smell the man's fear. See it in his eyes. It was delicious. Relishing what came next, Athinar punched the man in the face, knocking him backwards.

 The man began to fall down, but Athinar grabbed his shoulder, pulling him towards him. Pulling his fist back, he smashed the little man's face in over and over again with his gauntlet, until it was little more than a meaty paste. Dropping the corpse in front of his companions, Athinar let out a little shiver of excitement. He didn't expect that, but it was welcome. Turning to the others wildly, he held up the chain. They came willingly.

 Athinar called the horse back, and stood at the head of the chain of captives, looking how the iridescent crimson glowed on his gauntlet, when he realized, the blood wasn't the only red thing in the area. A massive, glowing rune appeared in the village proper. Staring, Athinar thought it was the most beautiful thing he ever saw. It was the color of gushing, pouring, holy, blood.

[Assistant]
Kor emerged from the burning temple with his appetite satisfied from feasting on the humanity of two holy men. The scene he witnessed was... nice. Blood pouring through the streets, the delightful melodies of anguish and terror wafting through the air, and a rather lovely looking rune glowing ominously in the middle of it all. Such bedlam was a lullaby for his twisted soul. Alas, it seemed as though things were wrapping up. Already the peasants were being rounded up and lead away as captives, and any real resistance had been crushed. Oh well, he may as well grab a prisoner like he saw the others doing.

Kor clotheslined one of the last stragglers that was running away from some other horror, and then picked up the man by his throat. "I always wondered what the point of keeping prisoners was," he said as the man futilely kicked against the Darkwraith's armor in a desperate attempt to break free. "If you're hungry, eat. If not, just kill it, am I right?" The man could only give a garbled response, and then fell limp. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me! I wasn't even squeezing that hard!" With a sigh, Kor simply ran his sword through the man's torso and hoisted it up onto his shoulder. Eventually Kor met up with the line of prisoners that Athinar was leading, genuinely impressed by the man's efficiency at rounding them up. Some of the humans gave a horrified look at the fresh corpse whose blood and guts were dripping down his skeletal armor and leaving a crimson trail in his wake. Kor grinned beneath his helmet and said aloud, "Geez, its like they've never witnessed an impalement before."

[User]
That Which Consumes Peace examines the glowing ring and smiles broadly.
"This is bound to be delicious.", he says as his smile grows ever more broad. The demon then decides to check up on his demon brethren.

Appearing beside Azavarn, with She Who Bathes in Blood appearing beside That Which Consumes Peace (and complaining with a " "Awe, boss I had just started having fun!"), he greets the fellow demon.
"Ah, hello, Azavarn. Quite an assortment of humans you have here," That remarks, gesturing to the people in chains. While examining them the demon has an idea.
" Say, what would it take to pry about 7 or 8 humans, young adults preferably, from your hands? I'm afraid I cannot offer you my soul", That Which Consumes Peace says to the fellow demon.

[Assistant]
Torrens had been having such a good time, lavishing in the temperatures of the blacksmith's furnace, that he had completely lost track of time. At one point Octavius had popped by briefly to check that the blacksmith had been secured, but despite that brief interruption Torrens may have sat there until all the coal in the house had been consumed, if beautifully sung lyrics didn't drift their way across the entire village. Torrens took it as a wake-up call, and finally crawled out of the furnace and stepped into the room proper. He was in much better condition than at the start of the raid. His skin had gone from a dull to a bright shade of red. The stones beneath his feet were already red-hot after only a few moments of contact. And his incandescence was visible, like that of hot coals.

The blacksmith backpedaled away from Torrens as he walked ahead, in case the demon had decided to turn on him, but Torrens instead went for the door and opened it, leaving a blackened imprint of his hand about a centimeter deep in the wood. He poked his head outside and looked both ways, and discovered that the raid was almost at a close. There were bodies down the main road, some with mortal wounds or mutilation, others just stone cold dead, some unhurt but unconscious and unmoving. The other raiders were leaving the village, with prisoners in tow, and some raiders were leaving the village in a great hurry. And near the center of the village stood Emily, facing away from him and singing next to part of the giant glowing red rune which encircled the whole village. He had noticed, when he was standing on the roof, Emily doing something flying around the village shooting lines onto the ground, so he figured this must be it.

Torrens stepped out of the blacksmith's and motioned for his captive to follow. "I think we're done here. You go join that lot over there," Torrens said to the blacksmith, pointing to the group of prisoners being led out of the village by Athinar, "Hurry over, surrender yourself to them, and you should be fine. Tell them that Torrens the fire demon sent you. If you flee, they'll murder you. Run along now." Left with no real option, the blacksmith hurried to catch up with the group of prisoners being led by Athinar.

Torrens, on the other hand, turned and walked towards Emily. There was no rush. No panic. No fear about the possible effects of this massive rune. After his veritable feast and brimming with overconfidence, Torrens felt nothing short of a lake or a village-obliterating explosion could threaten him. He figured that dumping a lake on the village would be unlikely for Emily to do and a little silly, with what knowledge he knew about her, and one does not stand willingly in the epicenter of village-leveling explosions unless it was a suicidal last resort, so it probably wasn't the second option either. And so Torrens walked casually until he was standing about 15 meters from Emily, positioned far enough in front of her to have entered Emily's vision.

Torrens nonchalantly leaned against a house, the stone wall and the dirt beneath him slowly starting to melt, and listened to Emily's song for a few more lines before speaking out. "Lovely song. If you can't respond, I understand, but what will this rune do?"


[System]
Female
Age: 24
Height: 5'7
Green eyes, warm beige skin tone, black hair.
Hair that goes all the way down but doesn't touch the floor. (Refer to image)
(Mixed race of Asian and Caucasian)

(Image does not accurately represent the age of the character, but only her hair style and initial clothing. Her skin color is warm beige.)

Primary Ability (Main)
Darkness Manipulation: The ability to manipulate the shadows around her and to create darkness. (As the RP progresses, she will display a variety of skills that revolves around darkness which I'll add onto this character page)

Secondary Ability (Minor)
Time Warping: The ability to manipulate the time of a specific area, such as accelerating and slowing time within that certain area.

Zuri has been sealed within a large dark crystal for thousands of years (roughly 2000) by a group of magic users due to her overwhelming ability to manipulate shadows and create darkness, which resulted in her being sealed up into a large crystal shard and hidden away within a catacomb. Her memories were lost as time goes by, distorted and shattered memories, she can only recall her name and rediscovers her ability to control darkness when she awakens. The crystal has started to give out dark energy from within the core, pulsing at a very slow rate.

Since Zuri wasn't born into this age and time, she doesn't know much about the current world. A factionless Talent without any friends and little to no memory of her own past. A clueless, mysterious and potentially dangerous girl.

Zuri lacks the ability to socialize with others due to the long period of time that she has been bound to the crystal, it's almost as if she's reborn as a blank slate but only feint memories of her past that could possibly change her. She's quite rebellious and can act a bit defensive if people try to get close to her at an unreasonably fast rate.

Zuri is quite simple-minded, willing to do anything to protect the people she likes and is quite direct with her thoughts, not giving a second thought to what she says and does not understand consequence. She doesn't like to keep her feelings bottled up and is quite vocal with her thoughts. She also says whatever she wants and acts upon her own instincts. Zuri has problems with following orders that she disagrees with, with few exceptions, but she can he kind and caring at times.

[User]
Alya listened to Felix as he explained the situation. 'I always suspected Thadeus to be forceful in getting his way and underhanded but this is insanity. He is having people killed just to satisfy his lust for power. The end of the world does not sound good either.' From all the previous events that had been happening and seeing just how Thadeus acted a while back she easily believed Felix's story.

Alya nodded at Felix's request. "My offer still stands, I will gladly assist you in stopping Thadeus." Alya turned her head towards Zuri. "You should come with us, it will be far less confusing that just wandering around here. If Felix is correct then you must of been trapped there for a really long time." Alya suggested, putting a bit of emphasis just how long Zuri had been sleeping.

[Assistant] Zuri was a bit confused about what's going on, and what Felix said was a bit hard to take in all at once, but she has somewhat of an idea. She was put on the spot, and walking out of such an offer would be pretty stupid. 'I need to figure out what is going on, and since these guys aren't hostile and seem to have good intentions, I'll just stick with them.' Zuri thinks to herself. "Sure, I'll tag along." she says in a sincere but casual tone.

[User]
Raiya had passed out almost immediately when reaching her room. Almost immediately she found herself in the abandoned city of her dreamscape once again. The dull greyish blue glow from the fully clouded sky covered everything.

She continued to wonder until she found herself walking down a dirty alleyway. At the far end of the alleyway, a little girl with black hair was huddled in the fetal position. The girl looked to be about three years of age, but Raiya couldn't tell with how far away she was from her. From where she stood, she could hear the girl whimpering. Raiya walked toward the girl, the whimpering increasing in volume. Eventually she was standing just before the girl, and the whimpering was so loud it was almost deafening. Bending over she reached out to touch the girl. Immediately as her hand came into contact with the girl, the whimpering turned into a deathly scream of pain. The girl shriveled up and fell over dead. That was when Raiya saw it, her hand that she had touched the girl with, it was pure white. Raiya gasped in horror. Looking over at a puddle, she caught her reflection, but what looked back at her wasn't her own reflection, but was Nemo's. Nemo's face, Nemo's white eyes, Nemo's white hair. She raised her hand to touch the her face and the reflection did so also. She looked down at her body and saw a naked pure white, male chest.

She let out a scream of utter horror, fear gripping her. Then she woke up. She walked over to the mirror, and was relieved to see her own reflection, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She walked back over to her bed and attempted to get more sleep but it wouldn't come. After a few hours she looked at her mana dial and saw it was only 6:15. She walked down stairs, no one awake yet. She decided to start a fire in the fireplace, and sat down on a leather sofa in front of it.

---

Felix was relieved that his initial rejection to Alya's joining the group had no bearing on her joining now. And was equally as relieved to see Zuri joining as smoothly as well.

Felix closed the first rift and drew another cross glyph in the air, creating another rift. This rift opened an entrance to a comfy looking living room with a lit fireplace.

"Let's go then," Felix said, before walking through the portal.

Felix appeared in the living room, and saw that Raiya was sitting in front of the fire place.

Before Raiya could say anything Felix said, "We have new members..."

[Assistant]
Not far off from Raiya's own seating, a mass of blankets laid on the chair Nemo had been sitting on earlier. Raiya's presence, along with the sudden arrival Felix seemed to cause a stir in the them. Nemo then emerged from the pile, apparently having slept on the chair the whole night, that, or he had been waiting.

"Ohayou Raiya-san!" Nemo greeted her with a pleasant voice. "Yoku neta?" (Did you sleep well?) He asked afterwards. Nemo had clearly remembered what Raiya had said earlier about liking to speak Japanese. For a perfectionist and notorious actor like Nemo, his pronunciation was good. However the extent of what he knew was up in the air.

Nemo fully moved the covers off him, he had clearly undergone a wardrobe change for the occasion some time earlier at night. He had on a collared black silk pajama shirt with white polkadots, thick white and black downward striped pajama pants, and a pair of comfy white night slippers. He seemed to also still retain his jewelry, along with his black glove.

Felix's comment seemed to perk Nemo's attention, however he said nothing yet.

[User] The warmth of the fireplace on the other side of the rift felt welcoming as warm light shone through. She could see people waiting on the other side, and the interior of the building looked inviting. "H-Hello." Zuri waves her hand as she steps through and starts subtly scanning her surrounding with her eyes. She held onto the ragged cloth that was the only thing covering her. Everyone seemed to be quite well-dressed, as opposed to what she was wearing. Zuri held onto the little she was wearing, afraid that it'll fall off. If someone saw, they would most likely assume she's just cold, which is also the case. She walks over to the fireplace and sits on a chair close to it.

[Assistant]
Alya stepped through the portal and arrived in the living room. She saw Raiya and Nemo, but there was no sign of her previous opponent, Travis. "Hello." She greeted the two after Zuri did. Alya knew she was fatigued from both the lack of sleep and the previous day, but she did not show it, and thankfully was able to mitigate most of the fatigue with a bit of self-cast healing magic in the form of a minor rejuvenation spell. "I'm Alya Summers, I am-... Was part of the Catholic Arcanocray. I specialize in healing, defensive magic. Pleased to meet all of you." She said in a genuine tone.

Alya took a few steps closer to the fireplace and remained standing after her short introduction to the group.

[User]
Raiya was zoned out, looking at the fire. And when Nemo emerged from his pile of blankest Raiya let out an audible short yelp. Placing her right hand on her chest, her heart beating fast with the new shot of adrenaline she just received from that scare.

Then Nemo spoke in Japanese, and Raiya didn't know whether or not to be offended. His accent wasn't horrible. Though, he didn't understand the subtle inflections actual native speakers would add in conversation, and that was apparent. But she humored him anyway.

"Iie... demo- watashi ga dekiru saizen o tsukushimashita... Jōkyō-ka de. (No... but- I did the best I could... under the circumstances."  Raiya replied.

Then a portal opened up with Felix stepping through and then a few others. Raiya was a bit confused but trusted that Felix wouldn't be stupid enough to bring random people, or enemies, into the hideout.

Raiya listened to Alya giver her introductions and gave a halfhearted wave.

---

"Make yourselves at home. There are a few unoccupied rooms up those stairs," Felix pointed to the stairs behind the sofas and to the side of the kitchen. "And there is all kinds of snacks in the kitchen. I'm sure everyone here will introduce themselves to you while I'm gone." Felix explained.

Felix then made another glyph rift and walked through it disappearing once more.

[Assistant]
"Sou ne." (I see) Nemo replied, a fairly pleased expression on his face after he managed to get a somewhat good reaction out of Raiya. However the arrival of the two newcomers had diverted Nemo's attention before he could respond.

So this is the source of those manawaves from before... how very interesting. After a few moments of thinking, Nemo got up from his chair and walked over to Alya and Zuri. "Salutations you two, my name is Nemo Smiley. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He said as he extending his arm out to Alya after taking a bow. In his sleepytime slippers Nemo didn't look all too threatening, but to someone like Alya, they very well could already know who he is, on top of already seeing him work earlier at Nevar's expense. Nemo turned to Zuri afterwards. "And who might you be?" He asked.


[System]
Gender: M

Age: 26

Career/Class:Soldier / Ex-Soldier

Weapons:
* Basket Hilted Broadsword
* Imperial Dagger
* Norscan round Shield (Took from his first felled enemy)
* Aged Pistol

Physical Description Cyrdic is tall and lean, but solidly built, standing an inch over 6 feet in height. His eyes are reminiscent of shaped wrought iron. His face is ruddy and echoes a youthful appearance, though battles and training had roughed him into the look of a mature soldier. He has quite the rugged quality about him. Two scars mar his face. One parallel to the bottom of his left eye, and another scraping across his right jawline. His legs are long and his his facial hair is only a coarse, 5'oclock shadow thanks to his knife. He's clad in fine and tough leather over a chainmail hauberk, with sturdy traveling shoes and a worn belt.

Mental Description/Personality: Cyrdic isn't a fool. He spent a year apprenticed to a Quartermaster (as punishment for recklessness) and learned how to read and write (to a degree). The best way to describe him would be a hardened, rough soldier at the brink of his youth. He'll use what he can in his disposal to win, though half the time it turns out he'll need to fuck someone up anyway. His fierce independence and rough nature can only be matched by his determination to survive. He's not tactically intelligent, but he has a sense of how battlefields shift and can command smaller troops with his powerful voice. He tends to have a take-no-shit (unless it's from a superior officer) lookout on life. He's amiable to certain people however, and will have a dry wit around those he enjoys (or to people he wishes he could be more honest with). While fighting and killing and marching has been his entire life, he's not particularly fond of being thrust into impossible situations and doesn't lack a healthy sense of self preservation. He's gotten quite tired of working for corrupt officers. He's a devout Sigmarite thanks to his upbringing, and has a hammer chained necklace upon his breast to signify this.

[User]
Amal grinned when the Dwarf had commented on his bandit-like look. It was strange seeing a Dwarf so deep within a human city. He had dealt plenty with the squat people in his native land, but always by the docks to trade and sell wares before departing again on human ships or the strange steel contraptions they used to go under the waves. He had heard stories late at night on where the Dwarf homeland resided, and he guessed they were simply closer to it here in the Empire.

The Dwarf let out an "Oooh!" when he saw the crown, thick fingers twiddling in the air as if being near the thing brought him tingles. As he lifted it up carefully, Emmaline placed a few of the other items that they had procured down on the table, though Nobby's attention was wholly on the crown at the moment. Amal took this opportunity to peek outside, a horse-drawn carriage clopping past on the paved stone streets. Emmaline trusted the establishment, and he would too. But he didn't trust any other like as not unsavory customers that made their way in.

"This crown is fifteen hundred years old, fashioned by fairly skilled men-folk smiths. Very well preserved..." He turned the circular base of it around, his eyes boring into the make of it unlike any human could. "If I'd hazard a guess, and that's what I bleedin' do, this might be the lost crown of Boris Goldgather." The epiphany had Emmaline gasp slightly at their impeccable fortune if Nobby was right, and he'd never been wrong before.

"Boris Goldwhat?" Amal remarked curiously.

"Boris Goldgather." Emmaline corrected. "He was an infamous and unpopular Emperor in the distant past. He died of plague, apparently. Buried in an unknown location." Amal had already started laughing before she even finished her next statement. "Which means we beat the shit out of a dead Emperor."

"You did what?" The Dwarf asked incredulously.

"How much is it worth?" Emmaline asked while Amal tried to get ahold of himself. By his perspective it was quite funny, traveling to his girlfriend's home country and robbing her ancient liege lord. Amal would be in high spirits all day. Nobby scoffed at the very question, raising the crown up again to admire the fine craftsmanship.

"Normally it would be around sixteen hundred gold peices, but considering the historical value? Likely thrice that, though it would be hard for even me to sell it on that premise. The Reiksgard would be at my door in an instant. As for the other stuff..."

The Dwarf spent the next minute appraising the items, which came down to the pendant being of elven make and costing around eight hundred gold coins, the brass teacup costing three hundred silver schillings due to historical significance, and the Emperor's arming sword costing around one hundred and fifty gold, though if they found the other bit of the blade it would quadruple in price unless they sought to give it to the Imperial academy. The silk was standard but well preserved, easily being a twelve hundred silver schillings. It seemed they had a lot to think about, and if they wanted to sell all of them to Nobby they would need to wait a day while he procured funds.

"While we think, what's the situation been like in Altdorf?" Emmaline asked her old friend.

"Oh, you can call this city an authentic Dragon Pearl if you catch my meaning." The Dwarf said, causing Emmaline to blush. "Old Franz sent most of the army north to handle those Chaos boys in Archaeon's horde. You'd think that would give us a bit of a reprieve but the good Marshal Ludendolf and his Reiksgard have the streets under strict watch, and there's even some White Wolves sniffing about. Not that is stops the gangs, only now they're getting more dangerous. Thieves in this city used to be respectful to each other. Now they kill one another on sight so the witness doesn't tell anyone willing to pay who stole what."

It sounded like an exciteable win win to Amal, particularly because they'd double their riches this time tomorrow.

[Assistant]
"This is genuine isn't it?" Nobby asked, looking up at Emmaline with sudden suspicion in his eyes. She spread her hands in a guesture of mock innocence.

"You wound me Master Dwarf," she protested, lips curving into a smile. Nobby scowled at her and tapped the ruby with a finger, verifying to his old miners senses that it was the real thing. Emmaline couldn't blame the old fence for being suspicious, certainly she had passed enough fake coins and faux antiques in her time to recognize that his suspicion was well justified.

"If I find the real stuff I don't need to fake it," she told the dwarf. Nobby grunted and reached under his desk to retrieve a heavy purse which clinked satisfyingly on the bench as he slapped it down. The dwarf was careful to keep his meaty fist gripped around the throat of the leather bag.

"I have eight hundred marks for the pendant, the rest of it will take time for me to pull together, find buyers you know," he told them bluntly. Emmaline arched an eyebrow, to be able to part with eight hundred marks meant her old acquaintance was doing better than he let on.

"I'll have to arrange to have someone test the crown of course, plus it will take time to find a buyer," the dwarf rumbled, sliding the pouch across the counter to Emmaline who pulled it open and ran her fingers through the coins with a satisfying clink of gold. Nobby gave an amused chuckle.

"Don't worry, I know better than to try to pass fake coins to one of your kind Emmy," he chortled. Emmaline smiled, but tested the coins with her magic anyway. Someone had scraped their edges a little, but you would be hard pressed to find a coin in circulation that hadn't been shaved down at least a little.

"We are on our way to Marienburg," Emmaline temporized, wanting to move the process along if she could.

"Suit yourself, but you know the crown wont fetch the same price there, historical interest here in Altdorf and all. A half dozen noble families would kill for the crown, so they can trot it out and claim some kind of link to the throne. Emmaline frowned, not having thought of that.

"Well I suppose we aren't on any real schedule, we can wait to have it tested," she conceded. Nobby nodded agreeably.

"I can hold on to the valuable until I can arrange it if you like?" he offered. Emmaline was already sweeping the valuables back into her rucksack.

"Master Haraldson," she said with an air of mock injury, "I know we humans are short lived compared to your folk, but I was not, in fact, born yesterday."


[System]
Username: Vongola_Hasayo
Age: 14

Gender: Male

Country of Origin: Italy/Japan

Role: Soon-to-be Vongola XI

Flame: Sky

Weapon/Fighting Style:

Appearance:

Personality: In some ways Luca is similar his predecessor in middle school and in others they are complete opposites. Luca isn't the most socially adept, spending a lot of time by himself in the schools music room or his own at home. He's not as poor a student as Tsuna was but he's not making the honor roll anytime soon. His confidence is lacking and he has a fear of leadership that rivals that of Tsuna's fear of Reborn. Their similarities aren't all negative though. Despite all his short comings Luca has incredible perseverance. His confidence may be lacking but that doesn't mean he won't try and give everything he can. He has a good-heart and wouldn't wish harm upon others. At the same time he doesn't like to see others get hurt. That's were the similarities end.

Luca is a much more reckless and impulsive person, throwing himself in the middle of trouble. Though somewhat timid he can be quite the hothead around certain people. More over his aggression towards those he sees as enemies and scum comes as an intimidating glare that only targets them and only reassures the people he cares about. He's not as forgiving as Tsuna but given time he'll come around. While he's never quite sure if he can do something it never stops him from giving his all. There are only two things Luca refuses to do though: try to lead and play the piano inn front of others.

Luca can be somewhat oblivious but her it's actually very sensitive to the hidden feelings in a person's heart. In the end though he might try and keep his distance his warm and inviting air is ever present revealing his own true feelings in the moment.

History: Luca was born in a small town in Italy known as Trespiano to Katsuo and Felicita Yuuki.

Other: Luca is a talented pianist and enjoys writing music though he'll never perform in front of anyone.

[User]
Luca turned hearing Yuki's voice and have her a bashful smile. "Sorry, yukatas aren't really my thing..." After looking over the snowy haired girl he averted his gaze and blushed slightly. "Y-You look really nice though~" He was glad she asked about the booth. The change of subject was surely needed our there might be a repeat of the afternoon's events. "Actually, I have no idea where it is. Though knowing the president probably snagged the best spot long before anyone else could." As if on cue he heard Asuka's voice over the crowd. Locating the source he saw the booth along with the president waving them over.

They made their way through to the booth. Noticing the other person working on the bananas and rice balls, Luca didn't expect to see the Archery Club captain here. Most of Namimori middle admired Hideaki. He was an ace archer, a model student and as far as Luca's heard a friendly person. Of course he's not lacking in looks either as evidenced by squeals from girls when he's mentioned in conversation. Even with all that Luca didn't feel like he knew anything about the bespectacled archer. And not just because they've never really spoken to one another. Meanwhile Asuka had that cunning look in her eye that she often had and Luca couldn't help but gulp feeling it had something to do with him. "Let's get started I guess." He said with a meek smile.

[Assistant]
Yuki may have retained her stoic expression but her face was bright red with embarrassment as Luca mentioned she looked nice, her mouth was unable to form words for a few moments before changing the subject at hand and making their way to try and find the booth. Unlike when there were others around Luca could render her defenseless like that pretty easily. Not that she disliked it but thankfully she had calmed herself down and with the greeting from the president returned her to her normal disposition.

"Yo"

She gave a small wave as they walked up, it was a nice sized booth, though did it really need all four of them to run it? Giving Luca a reassuring pat on the back Yuki made her way over to help in the creation, putting on some gloves of course. Looking over to Hideaki she gave a small nod in greeting. She had seen him more than a few times when she had been going around all the clubs over the past month, though leg based sports were more her thing.

As Yuki started to work on the rice balls she got a rather evil idea "I didn't know that this was a double date." she said in a dry tone, intending to imply that their president had brought her boyfriend along. She could not help but sneak at least one or two rice balls for herself to eat later, payment so to speak given that she was basically doing this for free, and a nice spot to watch the fireworks.

[User]
While making his way through the merry making crowd, Ren's eyes behind the mask briefly scanned through the area for any suspicious figure. None caught his attention so far, or at least, none that were suspicious by appearance. Laughter of lively children, clacking of wooden sandals against the pavement, chatters between chummy acquaintances, sizzling of a yakisoba grill, yells of merchants advertising their respective stalls; such were the sounds his ears caught at the area. This current area was clear of danger for now, hopefully the figure he was in search of would be in a safe area as well. The raven haired male slightly adjusts his fox mask in place while continuing his search.

It took quite a while of walking till a particular stall was in sight, a professional looking food stall like any other ones he had seen tonight but the only difference was the figure who resembled the picture of the blond Vongola candidate. To make sure it was the boy he had been pursuing after, Ren decided to make a purchase from the stall as a reason to confirm that the appearance indeed resembled the boss candidate. After the last customers left their stall with a stick of chocolate banana for each, the masked male approaches the stall and hands over quite an amount of money to the similarly raven haired female and utters in a quiet tone, "...... I will purchase 20 pieces of rice balls."

The front of the stall clearly lacked a couple of rice balls for his order to be complete, which he hoped would cause the female to leave temporarily so Ren may properly inspect the light haired male while he waited. It was no problem if she didn't do so, at least a careful glance could suffice.

[Assistant]
With Luca and Yuki there, things really began. Customers were coming. Some young guys and girls, guys and girls their age, middle age women. A few of the older women would coo and pinch Luca's cheeks. Asuka couldn't help but giggle at that. The added attractiveness and cute factor did the trick alright. Older gentlemen didn't really come by. Asuka wouldn't have like that anyway. Middle aged men. She shuddered at the thought. Although, some guys and girls just a bit older, maybe in university, came by here and there. That was fun. Most were on dates so there wasn't flirting or anything like that. Not that it would have been appropriate or enjoyable. But they had a certain air about them. Everyone did! The festival was going well.

Still, Yuki's comment nearly made Asuka drop a whole batch of freshly made Chocolate covered bananas. She managed to save it and set it down, but it was still there. She glanced back. "Yuki. Please... Don't ever try and say something like that again. Even as a joke." It seemed that comment was an insult, no, a wound, fatal, struck deep into her heart. She was smiling, sure, but even the smile was nothing less than murderous. That was the severity of how she took even the simple idea or misunderstanding of any kind to relationship with Hideaki.

With that she turned back to the front of the stall just in time to be met with a young masked man already back to her normal cheerful demeanor. "Ah~ Of course." She looked down as she took the money to put it in the box and took out some to return the change. But... They were short. No matter, Hideaki and Yuki would likely bring some soon. It wasn't something that needed to be worried about. "Just a moment please." She gave a slight bow. Luckily there was a freshly finished tray beside Hideaki. Say what you wanted, he did work efficiently. But this meant she was only gone for about thirty seconds. It wasn't a big booth after all. "Here you go." She said placed a small box, she had them under the counter for larger orders like this, in front of Ren.

"Oh and that's quite a lovely mask, if you don't mind me saying." The fox motif was what she liked. But she hadn't had time to pick one up. All she had was a cat themed one given to her by some guy. He did it often. Little things like this. He had a crush, but he was also a jerk. She sighed. "I don't suppose you would want to trade." She gave a small laugh holding up her own mask. Though, in her mind, it was a long shot.

[User]
As the lady who was about to serve him his orders inevitably turned her back to fetch the rest of the lacking items, the fox masked male turned his face towards the blond male attendant. Azure orbs behind the mask intently gazed at him for a good couple of seconds in silence before the female attendant came back with his orders. 'He is the one...', Ren thought to himself, his mental image of the Vongola boss candidate clearly matching with the boy in front of him. As the box of rice balls were handed over to him, he mumbled a soft "... Thank you." He decided to hand them over to one of his men later for safekeeping, as well as distributing them to the others who were famished since he himself had no desire to eat and it was awkward to, half his face hidden while he would bite on a rice ball.

Just when the raven haired male was about to leave with his purchased goods, Asuka's compliment for his mask stopped him in his tracks. A nod of acknowledgment was given in return, he thought it unnecessary to reply back to the compliment. He supposed the fox mask was at least suitable to him but not exactly his tastes. Just when he thought he'd be released from the conversation, his eyes widened at what the female attendant flashed before him. A cat mask. "..........!" Ren's attention was piqued by the sudden appearance of the cat mask, its attractiveness and simplicity drawing him into agreeing to the mask trade. But was it the appropriate time for him to uncover his concealed face? Or was he willing to let this chance pass by and go on without possibly ever finding another cat mask in the festival? He thought for a moment, and a decision was made.

"......... Very well. I consent to the trade." With that, he lowered his mask, revealing the face of the young Kanesada heir. His gaze averted to the side as his arm stretched out with the fox mask in his hand.

[Assistant]
"Hey guys!" Hideaki cheerfully greeted the athletic Russian and the blond-haired mafia boss. He wasn't too surprised Asuka had managed to rope in an underclassman with some underhanded scheme. At least the two workers would be tolerable. He could respect Volkov-chan's abilities. From what he heard, she went around testing all the clubs, not just his own. She also wasn't a rowdy fangirl, so she had that going for her as well. On the other hand, there was Yuuki-kun. He didn't hear much on his end, other than his fights with the resident Disciplinary Wannabe. He could hold his own though, which was good. The archer resumed his work after explaining the necessary processes, and was finishing off a batch when a certain phrase was said.

'Do you think this is a fucking game you impertinent little girl? Me and that fox? How sickening. Just the thought leaves the taste of shit in my mouth.'

Someone was a little bit salty after that date comment, it seemed. "...No," the archer said firmly but politely, having halted in the midst of his snack food assembly, "This is not a double date scenario, no." With that said simply, he resumed creating rice balls as if he wasn't practically fuming with annoyance on the inside. He did a perfect job of it, at least, with the only outward change being that he was now assembling rice balls at a much faster pace. They were still characteristically precise, however. He picked up his batch and moved it back over to restock the front of the stall. "Here you go, Argento-chan," he said, glancing at the other half of the mask trade. Going for a fox mask, what a surprise.

On his return from his station, Hideaki stopped by the post of the young blond-haired student. "So what'd the president do to get you roped up in this?" he asked casually.


[System]
"I don't want to save the world, just strike down those who set it aflame."
"One Who Brings Death"

Age
29

Race
Vashoth, has never been properly part of the Qun so he is not a Qunari

Class
Mage, Blood Mage

Magical Abilities
Through brutally, rigorous training and practice Katari has become a Blood Mage in a league all his own. Where others use blood magic as a last resort or to only augment their other powers Katari jumps wholeheartedly into the art. He excels in the fields of turning his enemies' own blood against them, using it to either heal himself or causing it to boil under their skin until they burst in a glorious crimson shower. As well he is an expert at bending the will of others while in combat and forcing them to fight as his puppets. Though not nearly as skilled as his manipulating of creatures of this world Katari has in the past been able to bend the will of lesser demons from the Fade. His combat style is different than the usual mage, preferring a up close and personal approach rather than firing away from afar.

Personality
If you were given a copper piece for every time Katari has been described as the "strong silent type" you would never have to work another day in your life. True to the stereotype that has befallen his people Katari on the surface seems quite menacing and imposing, not the one you would expect light conversation from, it is only when he talks that one would see how truly unique Katari is. For when he speaks Katari speaks with the same elegance of the Imperium's noble class, both well thought out and spoken sentences that just seem to flow so naturally one just can't help but be swayed by them. He is not one for jokes, remaining deadly serious most of the time, and likes to get things done as quickly as possible. His training and upbringing has made him slightly sadistic, he quietly enjoys breaking his enemies in both body and spirit especially when he knows they deserve it. Katari believes the end does justify the means, as in if he has to slaughter a few villagers to kill a magister he will do it with out hesitation.

Backstory
Katari's beginnings are a bit of a mystery for he is not sure of them himself. Was he the child of proud Qunari warriors who dedicated their lives to the Qun or was he the result of some drunken night between some Tal-Vashoth rebels, one can only guess. All that is certain is that through a series of misfortunate events Katari ended up in the possession of a Tevinter slaver, still a infant less than a year old. Despite all the bad blood between the Qunari and the people of the Imperium and the fact that most of Tevinter's population is made up of slaves a Qunari slave, Vashoth or otherwise, was unheard of which is what made it so scandalous to have one and whenever a scandalous occasion arises there was one Magister that always managed to capitalize on it. Alexandra Landraus was a Magister that knew by being the center of attention was the best way to ensure her a seat in power and the best way to remain the center of attention was by breaking the norm. So it is not hard to imagine that she snapped at the chance to own a Oxman for herself, ensuring that her name to be on many more lips.

This is where Katari's story truly begins. He was raised like a show dog, being trained to both impress and intimidate other Magisters at the command of Alexandra. It wasn't until he was ten that things started to become truly interesting in his life for that was when his magical powers surfaced. Like always Alexandra took advantage of the situation and began to turn Katari into a symbol that stood against everything the Qun and the Qunari stood for. She began to train him in blood magic as well as the politics of the Imperium, two things the Qun strongly disagrees with. But the worst of Alexandra's teaching methods was placing Katari into the Arena. The Arena was a secret event were Magisters brought their slaves and made them fight to the death for sport and entertainment. Katari was a natural in combat and quickly raised to become the champion of the Arena, earning the nickname The Executor.

Despite all the power and training she gave him Katari resented Alexandra for how she treaed him, a mere tool used for the soul purpose of getting her more power among the Magisters. It wasn't till after years of servitude that Katari managed to escape Alexandra, though his escape was quite bloody and did not end well for many of Alexandra's personal guard. Katari has since wandered aimlessly, as surprising as it was no one wanted to house a random Oxman, little a lone one that was also a mage. He managed to make coin by doing random odd jobs he came upon, mostly dealing with bandits or cutthroats that were harassing a local village.

Appearance
Katari is a towering individual, standing at 7'3 in height, with a muscular body build. His skin is a dark bronze color and is racked with countless scars. His hair is long and pure silver in color while his eyes are bright amber. He has four black horns, two large ones that extend towards the back of his head and two smaller ones that curve forward. He wears black and crimson red leather robes with a black cloak. His right arm is covered in armor that ends in a clawed gauntlet.

Other
He was named Katari by Alexandra after his first arena battle, she thought it was funny. Up to that point she referred to him merely as "my pet"

[User]
Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.
I shall endure.
What you have created, no one can tear asunder.
-Trials 1:10

In Orlais you could never go far enough to escape the influence of the Chantry. In Val Royeaux the two towers of the Grand Cathedral dominate the skyline for miles and throughout the countryside smaller chapels dot the landscape. It was said that you were never too far from the Maker's grace a fact that Orlesian's take much pride in for it was Kordillus Drakon I of Orlais that founded the Chantry, and not some other backwater nation. The Chantry's close connection with the royalty promotes close connections between the aristocratic class and their reverence to the holy faith. This another facet of The Game in which those who donate the most coin out of pocket in donations get things done for them easier. It was because of this fact that Freyan was most acquainted with the Chantry.

One could have almost called Freyan devote in his beliefs as such things come easier when you raised among the heart of it. He remembered the times as a young boy that his family would travel to the Grand Cathedral to hear the words of the Grand Cleric or maybe even if they were lucky the Divine. The Cathedral was an astonishing sight to a young mind: glided white walls stretching into the sky, the Chant of Light almost emitting from deep within the building, the opulent banners and the hundreds of people. But the memories he held the most were of Sister Aurore telling him and the other children about Andraste's campaign against the Tevinter Imperium. It was in these stories of heroics and great battle that one could trace the young man's own desires to become a hero.

But Orlais seemed ages away from the City of Chains. Since he had arrived in Kirkwall after his contract with the Margrave of Ansburg had ended his hands had been rather busy. Through the steady march of the years he had gotten used to the switching of cities and the life of a vagabond always looking for work but it was always hard: making a name for one's self, finding a place to stay, finding work. In the beginning it was always hard. When you were busy killing raiders, catching thieves, and rescuing children who fell down wells you had little time to pray to the Maker and thank him for your good fate. In his disillusionment with the Chevaliers he had begun to doubt most of the things of his childhood and even at times his faith in the Maker. For if the Maker was real why would he let all the terrible things he had seen? In short finding him watching the anointing of a new Chantry was the last place you'd expect to see him.

Yet sometimes the melodic calling of coins falling within a purse was too much. He would like to say that it was a job and nothing else. He would like to say that only because the Viscount was hiring out extra muscle that he was there. He would like to say that the money was too good to turn down, which it was. But somewhere deep inside of him he had a sort of morbid curiosity about the whole event. The Kirkwall Chantry had a... troubled history to say the least and Divine Victoria new choice of Grand Cleric would not help the matter. The Viscont knew this and which is why he also hired a few mercenaries as well as the City Guard just to add another layer of protection. Freyan could not blame him as it was never bad to be prepared for violence. Judging from the mixture of reverent faces and hateful slurs Hightown was primed to explode.

So Freyan stood near the announcement dais just far enough away to not draw attention but close enough to leap into the fray to Protect the Grand Cleric if it came to that. To say that he stood out would be a bit of an understatement covered in full Chevalier's plate that shined when the sun hit it correctly. He had what one might call an intimidating figure with his sharp eyes focused with concentration. Some might of knew him as the ex- Chevalier had begun to make a name for himself as the man you want too when you needed your problems resolved. But if they did recognize him they did little to acknowledge him and Freyan almost preferred it that way. His own mind was going over several different worst case scenarios as sweat beacme to trickle down his forehead; Maker's Breath it was hot and the heavy plate was not doing him any favors in that department, but he did little to show any signs of discomfort. Though he did wish for the ceremony to begin just so that it could end.

[Assistant]
The new Grand Cleric's inauguration had drawn quite a crowd of spectators. They filled the Chantry courtyard and, even as they all watched the Elven woman on the raised platform in front of the the Chantry doors, they were in turn watched. By the City Guard, the Viscount's mercenaries, and, of course, dozens of Templars. The inauguration of such a controversial Grand Cleric was not something to be taken lightly and they weren't taking any chances with security. Only a fool would be stupid enough to try anything while down there in the courtyard, which is exactly why Viela was not in the courtyard.

She watched the events unfolding beneath her from a vantage point in the shadows, high up on the Chantry roof, from an eave overlooking the courtyard. From her perch she looked down on the elven woman in her religious garb and felt nothing. She understood why the client had requested an elf carry out the contract, a human assassin would turn the woman into a martyr, but if it were to be an elf who carried out the deed then the Chantry would likely just crack back down on elves everywhere. Viela knew this, and still felt nothing. She had no loyalty to her own kind, her own kind had sold her to the Crows in the first place, and she wasn't exactly Andrastian either. Death was the only god that Viela believed in. This was a contract, nothing more.

The proceedings began down below and a chorus of cheers and jeers reached Viela up in her perch. The elven assassin stood up and drew her daggers. The contract was clear: It had to be public. Viela stood up from her perch and, taking a breath to steady herself for what was to come, she dropped down onto the platform, between a pair of armored Templars. Even as they turned to look at her, still unaware of the danger she represented she drove her daggers up under their helmets, straight through the underside of their chins and into their brains. The holy knights dropped instantly and cries of shock, horror and outrage came from the crowd.

Viela was now well and truly the centre of attention and she could see guards closing on all sides. The closest threat came from the other two Templars standing on the other side of the new Grand Cleric, who had also turned to stare at her. As the Templars charged forward to get between Viela and her target, drawing their swords, the assassin leapt forward and ducked a sword blow from one, sliding a dagger through a point in the man's armor under his outstretched arm. As she withdrew the dagger she threw her weight into a kick, pushing the dying Templar into his comrade with caused them both to tumble off the platform and into the crowd. Viela turned on the Grand Cleric and leapt towards her, driving the woman to the ground with her knees, where she knelt atop her, and raised her dagger for the killing blow.


[System]
Captain
Hugh Talbain - a Knight, played by Lugubrious. While before he merely pretended to be a knight, Hugh now lives and fights as one, though his time as an actor continues to bleed through. The most dramatic pauser.

Front Line
Lilith Merdox - a Mercenary, played by Crimson Raven. Though a painful past has left its mark on her, she is all the tougher for it, and not forgotten where she cam from. The lustiest for riches.
Jakobe Russenfalt - a Cavalier, played by Multi_Media_Man. A soldier through and through, he doesn't let dreams of honor distract him from a reality that needs his help. The most knightly.
Sanguin - a Myrmidon, played by Lugubrious. An alternate persona of hers -the wolf- developed to handle the stress of battle has blended too well with her normal self. The biggest drinker.
Ronin - a Fighter, played by nobody. Wielding a near-impossible to use Imposing Axe, Ronin is unfailingly bold and totally convinced of his own fighting prowess. Beneath the confidence, however, he is painfully aware of his own faults and flaws, and has dismal self-esteem. The faintest after long walks.
Franky Lonnas - a Barbarian, played by Xan the G. This sarcastic, thrill-seeking pirate met his match with a run-in with the Bravuran military, and now atones on the path to freedom. The bravest gambler.

Second Line
Nickolas Rienbach - a Dark Mage, played by TentacleLord. Though at times disturbingly familiar with death, this roamer can boast a genial nature and heroic intent. The lightest dark mage there is.
Kuur Salcair - an Archer, played by TentacleLord. Hyper-competitive yet oddly stoic when it comes to socializing, this venturous young lady wishes to see the world. The most gullible.
Habeen Nocta - a Dark Mage, played by Toadropes. A traveler from lands abroad and a Plegian by birth, this wanderer's only constant is her unflappable good mood. The most unnervingly cheerful.
Syrena - a Mage, played by Prince of Seraphs. A fire burns inside this sweet young girl, one that expelled her from her broken home and into the unforgiving world. The likeliest to repeat syllables.
Taene - a Manakete, played by Cinderella Man. A stoic thrill-seeker, seemingly only vehement when challenged or given the chance to experience something new. The one with the coldest breath.

Variable Position
Gaius Secundus - a Tactician, played by Crimson Raven. Just now officially beginning as a battle strategist, this mellow young man is anxious to do his father's teaching proud. The lightest sleeper.
Jeane Robina - a Thief, played by Toadropes. No mere petty brigand, she sustains a unique set of morals paired with dashing charisma. The first one to steal from the rich and give to the poor.
Kel - a Wyvern Rider, played by Experiment 249. Though flippant, slow to respect authority, and oftentimes lazy, Kel is a man with powerful bonds, be it with his sister or his treasured dragon. The smokiest-smelling.
Dylan Caercot - a Pegasus Rider, played by Burthstone. A courier who blames himself for his sister's death, and whose aspiration to join the Reclaimers came true in a lucky break. The least tanned.

Support
Marcus Ambrosias - a Priest, played by Prince of Seraphs. Few know that this worldly, social, selfless monk once practiced the black arts as a Dark Mage. The one with the most pockets.
Timothy Wolfe - a Priest, played by nobody. Still shy even after the bullies trouble him no longer, Tim diverged from his magical background to heal instead. The most beloved by animals.

Ex-Members
Arkhant - a Mage. Heir to a grand lineage of magicians, Arkhant is determined to uphold the family legacy through learning and adventure. After a grave wound on Mission 1, Westroad Village, he lost his fire to be a Reclaimer and left for home.

[User]
Syrena Sinclair - Westroad Village
Whether her actions were wise or not moments later the standoff dissolved into chaos. Habeen tossed dark magic at the bandit leader and true to there horrid luck some of it spattered over the dancer hostage. Seconds after that the dancer was shoved to the ground and the Reclaimers began to charge. Syrena prepared to let loose her magic. Perhaps she could separate or disrupt there enemy in some way. She certainly didn't want to immolate anyone. As she was preparing however Syrena felt herself yanked into the air as a Pegasus rider slung her onto his mount.

In a wild flurry of surprise Syrena's fireball broke out of the containment she'd been holding it and shot over the heads of the Reclaimers and the enemy exploding in glorious light over the watch tower's midsection. It wasn't powerful enough to do structural damage right off the bat but the wood had begun to burn. They didn't have much time. Her flames burned hotter than conventional fire. If any of the Reclaimers wished to climb the tower they would have to do so before the fire became too intense and the smoke chocked the air from there lungs.

The man whose Pegasus Syrena found herself riding was unfamiliar to her. He wasn't one of the Reclaimers but he seemed inclined to help as he apologized for dragging her roughly from the ground. As the winged horse landed on the top of the watch tower the Pegasus rider assured her that they could take the bandit leader together and he would stop the axe wielding man from hurting her. But who's going to stop me from hurting them both? she thought to herself. If her magic got out of control this far up they would most certainly fall to there deaths. Nevertheless Syrena pulled herself off the mount and readied her powers for battle. She didn't want to kill anyone but it wouldn't stop her from defending herself, this man and the villagers below.

Marcus Ambrosias - Westroad Village
Marcus stayed to the rear of the Reclaimers as the fighting broke out. He was not one for battle but for healing the wounds of the injured and easing the pain of the dying. He knew before this war was done there would be dead to mourn. When the army rushed the bandits Marcus saw his own first targets. The dancer girl had been struck partially by the Mire curse.

Marcus remembered that one well. The slime magic had not exactly suited his fancy as a teenager. It was too messy and somewhat ill inducing. Still the show it put on could not be denied and he and the Black Dragon Guard had used it to intimidate. He knew that even the smallest amount of it would be deadly if not treated promptly. If left on the dancer girl's skin it would cause her flesh to erupt in pustule like boils which would then explode violently spreading more mire over her body. It wasn't enough to wipe it away from the surface. Though invisible the magic had worked it's way deeper and as Marcus moved his staff and heal crystal over her skin he focused on that deeper layer. The surface stuff began to instantly dissipate then below if slightly painfully the rest of the magic was expelled. He did the same on the pieces of clothing that Nickolas' hands had deposited the rotten debris from the corpse. It wasn't mire and so likely not as toxic but it was safer to remove it just in case. The sludge would have to be washed off by hand but any magic that it held had been disbanded.

With that done Marcus glanced over at Nickolas' wounds. There was nothing that could be done about the nerve damage cause by the ice dragon. It was too soon to reheal it, that could cause further damage but Marcus could repair the muscle damage down the by arrow. "This will be quite painful but in the long run you'll thank me." It occurred to Marcus seconds after saying this that as a cloister monk he shouldn't have had the kind of experience with dark magic that would lead him to be able to dispel the mire so effectively. He should have asked Nickolas's expertise on the matter before performing the procedure. No matter it was too late now to dwell on what should have been.

Marcus pulled the arrow as straight and precise as possible from Nickolas' leg before he started the healing spells. It was simple muscle damage and the wound closed in an instant. Lastly Marcus dispelled any residual magic the muck on Nickolas' body that his desecrated corpse might have possessed. As a dark mage he would have a higher tolerance for it but all the same it was not good anyone getting sick from something that could easily have been prevented.

[Assistant]
Annoyance began to stir within Taene as the person charging him didn't simply give up and was steered forward by his beast. How was he supposed to avoid killing him if he was going to get into point-blank range? It was like the kid had some odd sort of death wish. More cold air began to gather between Taene's teeth as he decided that he wasn't going to be able to avoid killing his adversary. As he began to charge up his next frosty assault, he noticed the boy take off his mask. Presumably to avoid it freezing to his skin, which likely wouldn't have been very good for a young warrior. The face that greeted Taene after his mask was removed didn't intrigue him, and he tore his attention away from it quite quickly without second thought.

Surrender? ...I could. Doubt that my employers would be that pleased with a choice like that, though. Taene thought over what the kid preparing to charge was saying, and took particular notice to the fear that was heard in his voice when he brought up the threat of attack. The ball of frost within the drake's jaws was nearly finished forming, when... something happened. The sphere crumbled in his maw and dissolved into nothingness, and he let out an oddly low noise that had a quite quizzical sound to it. His attention snapped to the rider opposite him, and Taene suddenly spoke up.

"Boy. I shall surrender to you, and your men, as I wish not to continue fighting. I am done offering resistance. However," He began. "Before I make myself any more vulnerable to a man that might possibly kill me, I must ask you a somewhat odd question. You would not happen to have a warrior sibling, would you?" The dragon's voice took a much calmer, relaxed tone as he asked his question but it still managed to carry over the sound of his large wings beating as he maintained his flight. Taene quite hoped that his inquiries would go somewhere. He was very sure, more so than he was in many other things. Their faces lined up in a way that made almost no sense.

[User]
Jeanne Robina

Habeen's smile had returned.

"Um, you do realize that you accidentally hit the dancer girl, right?" Jeanne asked.

"My goal was to make him let go of the dancer. I have achieved that goal," Habeen simply replied.

"Ought you to check on her?"

"Marcus is already on it."

Jeanne nodded awkwardly. "Listen, I'll take care of the brigands downstairs. You help storm the watch tower."

The fact that the watch tower was literally on fire seemed to fly over Habeen's head. "Hey, I ought to help finish the job, eh?" she asked. Especially since I accidentally hit the poor lady, she thought to herself. Shoot.

Jeanne drew her sword and flamboyantly circled it over her head. "Have at you, honorless brigands! Thou thieve but to merely thieve; thy grisly greed shall lead thee to a grim fate by my blade!"

Yeah, she was a show-off.

Jeanne immediately raised her sword and prepared to blitz the bandits. Her blade held upside-down in her right hand, Jeanne charged the bandit in the center and with a swift motion unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps. She gave the man a swift kick in the stomach before bringing her sword around to strike the man next to him, creating a larger opening for Habeen to run through and into the tower. And run she did; the folk magician sped through the opening in the enemy forces that Jeanne and Kuur had created, right into the burning building.

[Assistant]
Malboro, Hero turned Highwayman

When Dylan and Syrena entered the top of the guard tower, they found the bandit leader waiting. The man looked suddenly older than he had when he'd been at the bottom; he bore the sagging visage of a man who knew he was about to die. However, his black eyes glittered fiercely, and they held no trace of mercy in them. When cornered, a beast would fight to its final breath.

He upturned his sword and jammed it into the wooden floor before removing his axe, evidently knowing enough about weapons to prefer a hatchet against a lance-user. This iron weapon he leveled at the pair, and spoke in a strange, toneless voice, "I knew death would come for me sooner or later. But if you think I'm going to let you take me easy, you're wrong—dead wrong. I'll show you how a former Hero fights."

Snarling, he rushed at Syrena, swinging his axe in from the side. With a weapon advantage over Dylan, it seemed, he wanted to eliminate the potential problem first.

Sanguin, Westroad Village

After an exchange of blows, the masked woman had the advantage. Her adversary, obviously intimidated not only by her opponent but by the whole situation itself, was unable to properly leverage the advantage given to her by her weapon. As she stumbled back after delivering a glancing blow, Sanguin charged forward. A surge of adrenaline pumped through her veins, and she yelled, "You're out of time!" The myrmidon leaped into the air and with her scimitar cleaved through her opponent's shoulder, finishing her in one shot.

She hadn't time to celebrate her victory, however. Sanguin felt a hard jab in her hip, and a moment later after she'd recoiled, the familiar trickle of blood across her skin. She whirled to face the soldier who'd attacked her and backed up out of the reach of his spear, nearly backing into Thunderclap as she did. A glance at the cavalier astride her convinced her that his help for the moment would be appreciated given her diminished vitality. "Yakob! Help me a second?"


[System]
Gender: Female
Race: Goliath
Main Class: Barbarian
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Size: Large (considered one size up due to "Powerful Build" trait)
Height: 7ft 5in
Weight: 275lbs
Eyes: Emerald
Hair: Charcoal

Appearance:A being slightly below average for her race of pseudo-giants, Vah'lux stands at seven-foot-five, with lean, defined muscles, slate-toned skin mottled with darker -virtually random- streaked markings, and emerald eyes that seemingly glow in low light under a furrowed brow. Dark hair is about as disheveled as one would imagine from her kind, cut uneven in some areas, and the longest part braided in a thick ponytail and secured with beaded string and fabric remnants. While the woman may be in her late twenties, years of harsh weather, blows to the face, scars that never healed properly, and other factors have made her seem older and quite "rough" in appearance, stripping away the beauty she once held as a youngling within her race.

Layers of light tan-colored wrapped linen cover her chest and pelvic areas, while her armor consists of thick, reinforced furs and pelts, intricately woven and layered in order to keep both the elements at bay, and bodily damage to a minimum.

Personality Description: Ambitious, even-tempered, mentally tough, and competitive, Vah'lux gleans with a genuine confidence that very few seem to have in this current age. Whereas her demeanor may come off as coarse, it couldn't be further from the truth. Her rough exterior is balanced by a warm, humble approach, and generally friendly disposition, as even when things may seem dark, she manages to lift the mood of the people she encounters.

[User]
○ ○ ۝ ○ ○

Mages. Conjurors. Wizards. Sorcerers. Spellcasters.

No matter what they referred to themselves as, or what others perceived them to be, only one word came to the Goliath's mind: Trouble-makers. Growing up in a culture where magic and mysticism seemed to be two separate entities, the magic aspect of Faerun was all but lost on many of her kind, and therefore mistrusted and seen as the work of darker spirits. On more than one occasion, Vah'lux herself witnessed such chaotic usage of spells and witchcraft, even a few of her tribe-mates dfelving in such things only to meet a terrible and agonizing end. Some losing their minds, others, being quite literally consumed by spells that were meant to defend, but backfired instead.

The bottom line was that magic was not to be trusted until otherwise proven different. And as the Goliath stood nearby only to see a spark form into a large ball of fire within the palm of the human's hand, she all but leapt backwards a few meters, caught off guard by the cunning of yet another mage. With glaive at the ready, she watched as the fiery weapon was thrust forward and immediately hit the Goblin assailant nearest to them both. Vah'lux had to quickly remind herself that things were already set in motion, and it would do her no good to allow such prejudices to cloud her focus. At least not at that moment.

Two Goblins flanked the Goliath, one wielding a shortsword of crude iron, and the other a wooden pike fashioned with a rusty spearhead, and seemingly felt as though they were making a poor choice but at the very last moment. Vah'lux shifted her foot and positioned herself to face the attackers, swinging the massive glaive in a forward arc, first slicing through the torso of the sword-wielder, and knocking the other to the ground, before allowing the momentum of the weapon to guide her next action. Vah'lux quickly pivoted slightly, spinning the shaft of the glaive so the tail-end pointed down at the prone Goblin, and with a great force, impaled the creature through the face with the pointed steel tip. It's lithe frame squirming under the initial pain, followed by muscle spasms, until no movement was left. The other, sliced halfway through it's torso, bled out into the soil beneath. The Goliath spat toward the corpses, hating the fact that their decomposition would soon contaminate an otherwise beautiful area.

The Goliath pulled the bloodied glaive from the ground and turned to spot two others nearby who seemingly were ready to defend whatever they had left...

[Assistant]
There were few true warriors to be found in the Charred Bog. Their lack of contact with the outside world removed the necessity for it. Indeed, no knights or armor-clad soldiers could be counted amongst their numbers. They were pillagers, scavengers, finding what weapons and bits of metal they could from the swamp, itself. Centuries worth of failed campaigns and ill-fated adventures. The Pyromancers used their home to their advantage; favoring skirmishes and short-lived, decisive battles over drawn-out conflicts. To say that Brennen was out of his element in the middle of enemy territory surrounded by angry, bloodthirsty Goblins would have been a gross understatement.

But to his incredibly tall rescuer, it was almost a dance. She swung her blade with deadly precision, and Brennen could not help but notice the nearly dance-like rhythm of her muscles beneath slate-colored skin. For such a large, unwieldy-looking weapon, she wielded it as though it were weightless.

For comparison, Brennen held the smaller axe she gave him with the clumsiness of unfamiliarity. His own axe was far smaller than this; little more than a hatchet, all things considered. But this weapon, suited for one closer to his rescuer's size, forced him to adapt his stance.

Of the two Goblins that presently remained, one, at least, had the forethought not to end up like his burning companion, and charged at Brennen with a cry that radiated pure malice.

Seeing this, Brennen took a step back, a brief flash of surprise spreading across his features before settling into stoic concentration. Loosening his grip on the axe ever so slightly, he felt the polished wood handle slide down his hand, waiting until he nearly reached the butt of it. Tightening his hold as the Goblin came ever-closer, Brennen threw all his weight into an upward swing, using his momentum to add strength to the strike that he could not have otherwise.

The blade caught the Goblin by head, cleaving into mottled flesh and rotten bone before sending the creature's mutilated corpse back and onto the blood-stained grass.

The last Goblin remained, betraying in its cruel countenance, a fearful uncertainty of what it wanted to do next. Run close and face an axe? Or keep distance and confront the woman's glaive. Still hearing the anguished moans of his still-smoking companion, the Goblin was smart enough to realize two words that every race could trace back to at some point or another: Fire dangerous.

[User]
○ ○ ۝ ○ ○

The fact that the human struggled a bit with the weight of the Goliath's hand axe wasn't missed, and it even brought a bit of a smirk to her face watching such a thing. Still, there was a small bit of respect now for the mage, that while Vah'lux assumed differently about the effectiveness of such a man's martial skills, it was clear that the human at least knew how to swing a weapon without losing it.

The Goliath turned her attention to the remaining Goblin, the one who seemingly was at odds with itself and with the situation at that point. Their comrades were taken down within seconds between both she and the human, and perhaps the creature who now stood shaking and mumbling something in its native tongue would be wiser to simply-

"We have a runner..." Vah'lux said in a matter-of-fact tone, watching as the small being turned-tail and scurried off as quickly as its little legs could carry it. The warrioress jammed the spiked butt-end of her glaive into the ground far enough for it to stand on its own, and with the other hand, reached behind her to slide out another steel javelin from it's leatherbound quiver. Switching it to her other hand, she shifted her stance, positioning herself to wind back her arm, and held the other out, pointing two fingers toward her target, as she turned her head and aimed down the length of her muscular arm for a moment.

"But hopefully not for long." And with that, she thrusted her weapon arm forward and released the metal shaft as it once again let out a low whistle through the air, gliding across the clearing, before skewing the Goblin through the back and causing it to immediately collapse and squirm before bleeding out.

Vah'lux sighed as she surveyed the camp. "I assume this was your place?"

[Assistant]
The battle ended, almost as quickly as it had begun, in fact. The tension in his body relaxing, Brennen's shoulders fell into a more casual posture as he looked upon their handiwork, eyes falling to each of the corpses that marked their victory. Wordlessly, he knelt near to the ground, reaching for the obsidian short sword that lay in the grass, falling from the grip of the Goblin whose remains still decorated the nearby tree.

Holding it to the morning light to examine its craftsmanship, the blade looked equal parts crude and beautiful to Brennen. Given the poor quality weapons possessed by the majority of Goblins, anything more polished than a rusted dagger would have likely been a sign of strength and status.

For a moment, Brennen held the blade properly by the hilt. It was too light and clumsy, made for hands much smaller than his - and certainly much smaller than that of his rescuer's.

He turned to see the woman surveying the camp, with a look that befit a hunter upon the horizon. "I assume this was your place?" She said to him after a deep sigh escaped her lungs.

"No, actually." Brennen answered, ending his first sentence with an uncertainty that indicated he was not done speaking. He looked down at the obsidian blade still in his hands, debating its usefulness, then letting it fall to the wet grass without another thought. "No, they must have dragged me here; looking for loot and a meal, most likely." Brennen continued, a look of concern briefly flashing over his hood-obscured features at the thought of being cooked and...eaten by those creatures; which would have undoubtedly been his fate had this woman not come along when she did.

"I just--" he hung on the word for a second, eyes narrowed as he looked for something. "Need to see where they put my things..." With that, he moved towards the center of the camp, closer to the bonfire that still burned, though was hungering for kindling that was not there. As he walked by, Brennen absentmindedly stretched out a hand into the fire, his fingers curling as tongues of the flame lapped out towards him, as though trying to ensnare him before releasing their hold - unharmed.

Heading towards one of several crudely-constructed tents - the largest, in fact - Brennen stooped low enough to cross the flap-covered threshold, the sound of clattering and items moving about undoubtedly reaching the woman's ears, followed by a sudden "Aha!" As Brennen assuredly discovered something he was looking for.

A few moments after, Brennen emerged from the tent, holding a rustic, weathered knapsack in his hands, made of coarse leather and holding several empty vials on the outside. Opening the sack, Brennen scoured its contents, making a mental checklist to ensure each and every one of his items were still accounted. He procured a chipped and worn hand axe, the tool fitting into his grip with a familiarity and ease that more than signified that this was his weapon of choice. Returning the axe to a notch at Brennen's belt.

Briefly heading back into the tent, Brennen emerged lastly with a shield...if it could even be called that. The slab of planks with an iron boss in the center looked hardly fitting for a Goblin, let alone a proper Human, but Brennen seemed not to care. With his gear now back with him, Brennen returned to the woman, looking all the more pleased.

"Ahh, good to know they didn't destroy everything. Though I think a few of them may have drunk my potions...Hm." Pausing on that note, Brennen looked up to face his rescuer, holding out the axe she had given him with slight difficulty. "I never properly thanked you, I'd have assuredly been killed had you not arrived. I am most grateful." At this, Brennen gave a small, halfway bow, showing all the clumsiness of a man inexperienced with such gestures. "I am Brennen, what might your name be?"


[System]
Nickname: Nat but only certain people get away with calling her that

Species: human/hunter

Age: 24/about to turn 25

Birthday: November 4th

Appearance:

She has long brunette hair that has a natural wave to it as well as always being side parted and hazel brown eyes. Almost always sports a smokey eye look with nude lipstick (or a tinted lip balm). She gets teased for it but she doesn't care. Her outfit includes her beloved biker jacket that is always at least a size too big for her, but it makes it all the more comfortable. She always wears racer back vests with black jeans and beaten up old combat boots that she refuses to replace. She'd rather get them get resolved than change them completely and go through the pain of breaking in new boots. She sometimes wears a couple of necklaces round her neck but not always, depends on the job and her mood and sports an anti possession tattoo on her left collarbone like her brothers do.

Sexuality- straight and single. Relationships get in the way in her mind.

Height- 5'7"

Right or left handed: left

Scars: a couple of large ones on her back, going diagonally across from her right shoulder blade down toward her left side of her natural waist.

Personality: sassy, snarky but loyal to those she let's in emotionally. Quirky at times and old school in her professional life.

Relation to characters (optional): half sister, John is her biological father.

Bio: The younger sister of the Winchester boys whom she only met much later in life. They collided on a hunt that the boys were doing at the asylum she was in, and from there learned they were all blood related via their father John.

Natalia was brought up by her adoptive parents Kara and Harry whom were scared of her by the time she was a teenager. They thought she was insane and put her in a hospital for the insane, as she would have visions in her nightmares of her birth father fighting all things that go bump in the night, making her want to sneak out at night to try and get answers on what they meant. Little did she know it was all a ploy by Hell and a demon named Azazel to get her committed so the wheels would begin turning for her meeting her real family, to play mind games with the winchester boys.

She was ready to escape one night when she was in her early twenties, when Azazel of all people went to break her out by letting her out of her room, setting in motion for her to collide with the brothers in her escape attempt, whilst all hell broke lose in the asylum with a wraith. Her relationship with the boys wasn't plain sailing at first. Dean didnt trust her at all. He was convinced for months that she was a fraud until Sam proved him wrong. She feels this is why she grew much closer to Sam as opposed to Dean, despite having much more in common with Dean. She loves old school rock and roll, she loves to sing and sketch in her downtime if they ever get it or when in the backseat of the impala.

Weapons: firearms of any kind, she's not fussy in the slightest, but likes the convience of handguns as they can be hidden well enough. If it ever calls for it, she enjoys bringing out her compound bow, but it's very rare she gets to use it for ranged attacks. She also likes her arsenal of knives for close melee attacks. She also has the habit of fiddling with her knives if she's restless or impatient over something, or just plain bored. Has left at least two indentations from her knives in every motel room table she's ever sat at.

[User]
MIKA CHAMBERS AND NATALIA WINCHESTER

The moment Mika and Natalia saw him look at Mika as the three important words came out of Mika's mouth, both thought that this might just be the beginning of them all getting through to him. This was so much worse than when Dean and Mika broke up for three years after he beat the living crap out of Ethan all those years ago, and Mika knew it. This verison of Dean was utterly terrifying but she refused to just up and leave him out of her own fear for him, she had to show him that she was with him, even if she became unfaithful thanks to a damn Angel meddling.

Natalia however could feel Dean tightening his grip round the knife which wasn't giving her hope that he would actually let it go but she had to keep trying, she couldn't give up on her brother. She took note of how much Cason was shivering and flinching under Dean's weight and despite all the bravado moments ago, it was clear to Natalia that he was truly shit scared of the man above him.

They both heard Esme also pleading with him to stop and not to go down this road, but the moment Dean glared at Mika.... actually glared at her with his nose bleeding it threw them off guard just enough to make Dean shrug Natalia off of him roughly, making her stumble backwards and onto her ass, failing to get the knife out of his hands. Mika's eyes went wide in fright at the glare Dean gave her. He had never glared at her in that way before, he had never scared her to her core in quite this way before and she didn't know how to react other than slowly and shakily letting go of the sides of his face. "please Dean...come back to me" she mumbled, implying about how he wasn't like himself right now.

The moment he lifted his hand with the knife, she went even wider eyed and before she could stop him, before any of them could stop him, he brought the knife and smashed it into the floor with great force that caused the knife to still shake in the floor. THe sound it made made Mika and Natalia flinch before he got up and stormed off, ignoring every single one of them.

Natalia scrambled back onto her feet, dusting herself down and beginning to head after Dean, pausing beside Esme just long enough to put her hand on the woman's shoulder. "I've got this." she told her then gave Bobby a simple nod toward Mika whilst glancing at him then headed outside to where she knew Dean would be.

Mika didn't know what to do, she felt like thanks to Cupid she really messed things up this time. She was on the ground, her legs bent off to the side, shaking and hugging herself. She couldn't look at Cason on the floor or anyone else in the room as the look Dean gave her still burned into her eyes, haunting her very soul. She couldn't speak or do anything except cry and hug herself.

SAM WINCHESTER

Everything felt so peaceful down in the vault when he was laying with Annabeth when it all kicked off upstairs, making him gently move Annabeth off of him and for him to sit upright, tilting his head to look up out of instinct. "What the hell...?" he muttered in disbelief as he recognised all the voices that were screaming.

Dean was pissed because of something and something he could only imagine that was major which made him wish he could get out of the vault to try and calm his brother down. He could hear his sister and Bobby pleading with Dean loudly to stop and when he heard the word 'killing' come into the equation his eyes went wide.

He got dressed quickly in the hopes that someone would come downstairs and let him out to go after his brother or at least come down to let him know what the hell was going on. He hated that all he could do was listen to the whole storm blow up above him and not do anything to try and help. If he had known that Dean had Ruby's knife to Cason's throat he woiuld have been able to overpower Dean and grab the knife from him.

As the shouting finished, he quickly went over and grabbed his phone, texting Bobby, "Bobby what the hell is going on!?" clicking send, he sighed running his hand through his hair.

[Assistant]
Dean Winchester

Dean shrugged everyone off, stomping off the porch and onto the gravel. He had barely noticed the pain in his nose, as the blood began to dry in the night air, his face a mess. However, as he heard Natalia's footsteps behind him, he knew exactly who was following him, just by her step.

He couldn't believe that Mika would be able to be seduced by someone she barely even knew. At least with Esme, they had a past. They were in love at one point. It made sense that she would be his weakness, considering the lack of closure in their relationship.

Cason was a demon. He was a demon that she barely knew, and Dean only knew in passing, but the guy knew a lot about all of them. The odds that he was fully effected by Cupid was hard for Dean to wrap his head around. He still felt like killing him. Just turning around and marching back into the house, and plunging a knife into his heart.

But for some reason, everyone in the house was protecting Cason, which just made the rage bubble up in his stomach even more. Climbing up onto the trunk of the Impala, he sat panting, and didn't turn to Natalia.

"Go back to the house, Nat…", he said simply, as he stopped short of his Impala, just standing beside it, trying to take deep breaths to calm down from the rage that was still flooding his body, "Now…"

Cason and Bobby Singer

Cason sat up, his body still shaking as Bobby approached him and wrenched his body from the ground, with a slap to his back. Bobby was thankful that Cason was still alive, considering he was the only person in the house who really seemed to know what to do about Angels. He felt his phone vibrate against his side, and quickly pulled it with a hand still on Cason's shoulder.

He flipped it open, tapping Cason and pointing to the couch, which Cason took as instruction and sat.
 "I'll be down in a second…"

He turned from Cason, "You gonna heal?"

Cason simply nodded, and Bobby nodded back, walking toward the stairs of the basement. He approached the door, and turned the heavy wheel, before wrenching the door open.

"So this is where you have been the whole time your brother has been losing his damn mind. What's she doing uncuffed?!", he asked Sam, looking over he and Anna, who was still sitting on the floor, a blanket up around her chest.

Sarah and Violet, hearing Esme screaming, reacted, wanting to protect her and their dad from a possible explosion. Running across the yard, they entered the house, snarling and fighting with each other as they tried to enter at the same time. Eventually, they managed to squeeze past each other, with Sarah hopping up, placing both her paws on Esmes chest to knock her back onto the floor, then placing her body weight against Esmes legs.

Violet ran over to the couch, seeing that Esme was cared for and jumped onto the cushion, curling up on Cason's side, her head on his lap, as if to tell them both to calm down…