[System]
"Shit happens. It's how you deal with it that matters."
Age
21

Height
5'11

Weight
200 pounds of pure muscle(and cupcakes)

Role
Chosen One

Notoriety Level
60%, Medium Guard Alert

Powers
Blink, Windblast, Pull, and Bend Time

Chosen Fate
Hero(ish)

History
Tygen wasn't born of the noblest of beginnings. His mother was...well in pelite terms she was a lady of the night, and his father a client of hers. So needless to say he never knew his father growing up. But that never really mattered to him growing up. Despite her line of work, his mother was all the family he needed. But then it happened, his mother contracted the plague.

It was a difficult time for him, he was forced to take care of his mother, and buy her medicine, even though he knew it was a fruitless effort, he still had to try. But there are very few good paying jobs in the slums, so he ended up having to steal so he could keep her alive. He stole only enough for her medicine, and only from those who could afford it. But eventually it all proved for not as his mother began to worsen. She desperately pleaded with him to kill her before she turned into a Weeper, before she became a monster. And he had no choice but to carry out her wishes.

So now he's focused on bettering the lives of the victims of the plague, of their families. He does so by stealing the nobles blind, those who refuse to do something about the plague.

[User]
In times such as these, a lady must know how to defend herself.

"No! Leave me alone!" A distinctly feminine voice shrieked from a darkened alleyway. "Release me!" The victim was a pretty thing; with long, glossy sable hair; a nearly flawless blushed ivory complexion; a dainty upturned nose; full pouting lips; and the most vivid cerulean eyes...surrounded by deep, dark, thick eyelashes. She wore a simple cotton dress, one that was pulled on like a coat and buttoned down the front, but the top two buttons had appeared to be cut off, leaving the garment to fall open quite revealingly. It was no wonder she was seen as a target. None would assume such a small thing could fend for herself in this city. "Help! Please help!" The young woman cried.

Her attacker was slender in stature, but solid...toned. Dressed head to toe in black, from a cotton mask which only revealed the eyes, to calf high, black leather boots. Perhaps a young adolescent male? The assailant's black, leather gloved hand was wrapped about the woman's throat, and a wicked looking blade was pressed against the apex of her fear labored bosom. "Give me your money." The voice beneath the mask sounded strained, forced.

Seemingly unbeknownst to the young woman's attacker, someone was crouched atop the roof of the dilapidated building opposite the woman and her assailant. Whomever they were, they were statuesque, still to the point that one might overlook them should they not have a trained eye, and a suspicious nature. In the shadow of twilight, however, the figure remained well concealed, cloaked in darkness, and bathed in ebony.

It was in that very moment that another young woman, a passer-by, heard the wailing of the victim, and without hesitation...she ran across the street, toward the alley. The slip of a woman, was loud in her approach and deceptively clumsy, so the assailant made little effort in deflecting the small fist that came toward it's shoulder. With one outstretched arm, the attacker pushed the valiant lady to the stone street, turning their attention back to their captive. "Money!" The assailant demanded once more in a masked voice.

The victim flinched noticeably, turning her face away from her attacker...and began to weep.

[Assistant]
Honor For All

A shadow was cast down on the streets below by tall boys as they patrolled up and down. But another shadow was thrown into that mix. The shadow of a murderer. But it wasn't Corvo.

Lysander Kingsford ran along the rooftops, dodging incendiary bolts left right and center. The alarms went off and the Lord Regent's voice boomed through the speakers all across Dunwall.

"Attention, all citizens. The notorious mercenary, Lysander Washington Kingsford, is afoot on the rooftops. Please remain calm and make your way to the nearest shelter. The notorious mercenary Lysander Washington Kingsford is afoot, please make your way to the nearest shelter. Thank you."

Kingsford laughed as he dived down onto a tall boy, killing him and entering the suit. He fired at the rest, and jumped out, running rampant along the streets.

"La la la la! Isn't anybody gonna come out?!" He threw back his head and laughed. "Come ooooooooooooooooooooooon! Come say hello to ol' Kingsford!" He skipped over to the entrance of the Whiskey Distillery, now completely empty. "C'mon, guys! I'm not that scary! Why don't you come on out, Slackjaw, and say hello to my fist? Oh, I'm sorry, did I say fist? I meant blade!"

He continued his skip around, yelling at the top of his voice. "Isn't it a lovely day, Dunwall? Come out in the rain, with the rotting weepers and the infectious rodents! It's a beautiful rainy day in Dunwall!" He pranced about, sneering at the scared citizens inside the houses.

[User]
Attention, all citizens. The notorious mercenary, Lysander Washington Kingsford, is afoot on the rooftops. Please remain calm and make your way to the nearest shelter. The notorious mercenary Lysander Washington Kingsford is afoot, please make your way to the nearest shelter. Thank you.

The lovely victim's weeping ceased immediately, and she lifted her deep blue eyes up toward the heavens with a huff of agitation, "Damn and blast! Can he not terrorize during the day?" She pushed her attacker away from her a few steps, and began smoothing her dress.

The assailant stepped back from their quarry, and glanced out into the street where they had just pushed the blush haired, young woman, down. Turning away from the dark haired beauty, the presumed attacker reached a black leather clad hand out to the fallen. "Sorry, Corri, I had to make it look real." Murmured a distinctly feminine voice. Reaching a hand upward, the assailant tore the mask from their head, and long, glossy brunette tresses fell forth from it. Blue eyes rolled, and the woman shook her head. "Well, that settles it. It does not look like we are going to earn our meals this night."

"Oh, that is alright Claire." Corri sighed, dusting the filth from her bottom. "Perhaps Esme could work her magic at the speak easy?" She suggested.

The gorgeous, sable haired victim, known as Esme, swept her attention to Corri. "They know me too well there now, Corri. It would not be safe."

The statuesque figure that had been lurking upon the rooftop of the next building, swept a scrutinizing gaze about their terrain, especially the surrounding rooftops. "Too bad we do not have the power to bring Kingsford down. I wonder if they would not pay a handsome price for him, perhaps give us our pardons as well." Yet, another female voice called down from her perch. However, she was not about to endanger the lives of her sisters, so it was best to heed the authority's warning.

All three women lifted their attention to the fourth upon the rooftop, but it was Claire that spoke up. "That would be suicide, El. Besides, they would just as likely take us into custody and design us a rope necklace once we turned him over."

El leaped down from the rooftop, onto the wrought iron of the fire escape steps. She then slipped beneath the railing and swung herself downward still, catching, flinging and propelling herself from anything she could use to Parkour herself to the alley floor. "You are probably right."

All four women looked between themselves before nodding their agreement that they should probably get off of the streets, but where to go at such a late hour? Their hide-away was nearly upon the other side of town where they had about exhausted their resources. "I am all ears to suggestions." El commented.

[Assistant]
Wilheim Sullivan

---

"C'mon, guys! I'm not that scary! Why don't you come on out, Slackjaw, and say hello to my fist? Oh, I'm sorry, did I say fist? I meant blade!"

Wilheim groaned. He slowly rose up from his old wooden chair, bottle clinging in one hand, pistol in the other. He wiped his forehead with the pistol-hand, bit of grease on it. His eyes, a little irritated, glanced over to the open window.

"Isn't it a lovely day, Dunwall? Come out in the rain, with the rotting weepers and the infectious rodents! It's a beautiful rainy day in Dunwall!"

Outside, some unabashed jackass was yelling at the top of his lungs like there was no tomorrow, over the pitter-patter of the rain and the sirens going off in the distance. The neihborhood did not need this right now this, theatrical bilge rat coming here waking up folks who were trying to get a decent forty winks or have a calm round of drinks or...

Oh, he had to do something about this.

Wilheim arose from his creaky chair and stumbled over to the window, leaving the pistol on a table. He peeked his head outside to see the culprit of the commotion - an indecent dreg who hijacked a Tallboy's legs. Ignoring the insane amount of skill, finesse, and luck an action like that would take, Wilheim breathed in and yelled out to the rooftop rider.

"Will you keep it down you enormous BLOODY CUNT."

That old sailor's vocabulary was about to get a workout.


[System]
Nicknames/Titles: The Paper Angel
Gender: Female
Age: 25

Appearance: A young Caucasian woman with striking red eyes and long pale red hair that reaches down to her waist. She has a slightly eccentric manner of dress, wearing a pair of red tinted goggles on her forehead and long flowing scarf at all times. She stands at roughly 5ft11 in height and has a lithe, toned figure. Her left arm is bandaged up to the elbow, covering a burn mark received when when she was still an inexperienced magi. Her bandaged hand is hidden beneath a robust, armour lined glove. In contrast she wears a fingerless black glove on her right.

Skills:
Magical Resonance – Paper God Magic can resonate with benign magical essences to either reinforce spells already present such as wards or seals or to imbue her paper with additional properties. The latter requires cooperation with another mage. Resonating magic is far more difficult to interfere with and disrupt. It is also more draining on the user as well.

Foci Split – Chloe has trained to be able to effectively wield a wide variety of weaponry so as to make best use of her particular style of magic. This skill allows her to seamlessly swap between weapon types without interrupting her rhythm. Her skill level is easily exceeded by masters of particular weapon types or styles, as one would expect. The power of Foci Split lies in versatility and adaptability.

Strong Vessel - Years training as an apprentice to an experienced mage have their benefits, such as rigorous, repetitive training of even the most basic of cantrips. From such practice an apprentice gains increased magical stamina and efficiency.

Magic: Paper God Magic is the ability to freely manipulate sheets of paper through the will of the user to form a wide variety of shapes and forms. The more skilled the user the more complicated and intricate the shapes that can be formed. Paper that is being manipulated is far more durable and resistant to damage than conventional paper and is as strong as any steel while Paper God Magic flows through it. Basic practitioners of this magic use it to form small weapons and shields, more advanced practitioners have a far more varied repertoire of techniques as their disposal.

The greatest weakness of Paper God Magic is that of fire, regardless of whether the fire is magical or natural in origin, though natural fire needs to burn far hotter then magical fire to inflict the same degree of damage. Paper that has been soaked in water or oil is also an issue for practitioners of this form of magic as it becomes more difficult to wield, especially if magic is involved. However paper that is already being manipulated can only be drenched by the use of magically imbued water. As distance from the caster increases so does the difficulty in maintaining control of any manipulated units of paper, preventing effective long range attacks and limiting the effective range of the magic to medium range at most.

Elemental Affinity – Paper God Magic
*Fire – Very Weak
*Water – Weak
*Earth – Resistant
*Lightning – Resistant
*Wind – Resistant
*Light – Neutral
*Darkness – Neutral

Equipment:
*Goggles – Red tinted goggles used to reduce the glare of bright lights and to protect the eyes from dust and the like.
*Scarf – A wide and long brown scarf worn around the neck. Possesses no magical or supernatural properties, its value purely sentimental. Whatever material it is made from it does not burn very easily.
*Backpack – Full of paper mostly, along with a few perishables.
*Steel Rods – It is easier to form a weapon around a core material then without one.

Personality: Chloe can be somewhat eccentric in both her mannerisms and actions but there is never any doubt as to the honesty of her intentions and is generally easy to befriend. She often comes across as a somewhat lazy, needlessly cheerful and surprisingly intrusive individual with no apparent notion of privacy or personal boundaries. In battle Chloe will always seek out the tactical advantage, preferring to avoid head on and prolonged combat when at all possible. She is also very protective, willingly sacrificing her own safety to shield other people from harm. Unsurprisingly she has been injured more than a few times, sometimes grievously. She is terrified of magical fire and will cocoon herself in paper if she has no way of running away.

Biography: Chloe is the adopted daughter of knight commander Callahan Chevalier, a brave and well respected soldier in service to his majesty king Allamon of Torrea. Something of a tomboy Chloe spent far too much time at her fathers heel growing up, her natural curiosity always getting her into mischief of one sort or another. Not that her father minded all that much, he was happy so long as she was happy. But things are never that simple in the real world and when Chloe started puberty her magic started to manifest itself. Violently. Untrained magic is dangerous for all concerned and so it was with a heavy heart that Callahan sent his daughter to Milokis to be apprenticed to an experienced mage at the behest of King Allamon's court mage, who used his connections to secure the arrangement.

Being apprenticed to a mage was not such a bad thing as it turned out, there was always something to occupy her curiosity. And she was a quick study, her form of magic relying more heavily on intuition than extensive and studious discipline. As a mage in training she was expected to perform all manner of tasks as deemed appropriate by her master. These included lofty tasks such as accompanying knights into dangerous ruins to battle evil monstrosities, to chasing rats with a broom in the masters pantry. Both were equally important, according to her master. Though Chloe had her doubts on that account. One day, her master assured her, she would understand.

She had yet to complete her apprenticeship when word of civil unrest reached her, followed shortly thereafter by the news that her father had just barely survived an assassination attempt by some unknown faction. Chloe returned to the capital as soon as she was able, her master wishing her all the best, knowing he could not dissuade her from her course. After all, she was her fathers daughter.

[User] Bristlebane was somewhat skeptical of the ability of the army lady's archers to be EVERYWHERE, and was pretty sure that he could make it to the prime minister if he felt like. In fact he was almost tempted to simply because of the challenge of it, but more importantly, he needed to know how to use paper magic. He now realized that his thoughts before were to small, why stop at paper airplanes. Why not create.... PAPER ROCKETS THAT COULD FLY TO OUTER SPACE. He giggly excitedly at the thought as he moved out of the nice paper lady's way and followed her down to ground floor again. The cool shadowy magicy guy was offering her a deal, frantically Bristlebane thought of what he had that she would want. Money? he had lots of that, wait that was it. The nice army lady said that they could meet back here tomorrow and do some fun stuff like blowing up the spider thingy so he filed away that information and then moved onto his plan. "Hey nice lady, i have an offer for you and its a good one. If you teach me how to use paper magic then... I'll be a slave for you! I can do lots of things, like carry things, make music for you, ummmm, set up camp if you ever need to do that, and i got lots of money so I can pay for you if you want to stay at an inn or something." he said to Chloe beaming with delight at his brilliant idea. He was positive that there was no way the magic lady would refuse his generous offer and he would finally learn how to use magic. For some reason all the other mages he managed to find had told him that he was to wild and irresponsible. Bristlebane had no idea why, last time he broke into a bank he had totally owned up to, coincidentally that town had had a really nice prison.

[Assistant]
Salazar felt the emotions of the party that had gathered pressing against the walls of the mental fortress constructed in the illusionists mind. It was akin to the heady feeling of drunkenness yet every muddled feeling, emotion and question came to his mind with complete clarity. It was a heady cocktail of confidence, fear, aggression, loyalty and deceit. One that told Salazar all he needed to know about the party. His eyelids shut for a second as he remembered the instruction his teacher had once bestowed upon him.

"An Illusionist is nothing without the inborn ability to read minds" The grizzled Grim growled at the young man that was his protégé "To heed the darkest fears and the most upheld ideals is how we ply our trade…so you must learn to decipher the emotions" the man's voice was more guttural noise than human words "Got it? Good"

Salazar opened his eyes to the group which had once more gotten bigger in the moments he had taken to compose himself. Things were crawling walls and another mage had gathered to the cause. The little trip of reverie down memory lane had taken longer than the Illusionist had expected. He caught the final part of Hazael's speech and nodded gently, the fighting was something he could possibly not help with too greatly…illusions were notoriously ineffective against things of lower intelligence. Looking over the group he noticed a prostrated man kneeling to the mage that had appeared. He stifled a grin "ahh…Chloe Chevalier…such an honour that you grace us with our presence" he said with a good natured smile before clapping Hazael on the shoulder and leaning down to whisper to her "When they leave…I must have a chat with you…in private" He straightened back up and held his palm out, blue energy flowing into it and creating multiples of the little blue bird messengers that was his favoured method of communication. He breathed animation in to them before letting them loose to gather some favours he deemed necessary. The birds, crystalline sapphire formations, shot into the air and spread out quickly.

[User]
New TorreaTsubasa
"Triple, huh? You remember, I hope, that half of my fee is paid up front and that it may increase based on expenses I incur?" Tsubasa crossed his arms as he turned to Hazael, but this time he wore the smallest semblance of a smirk. "My equipment is very important to me. Having it taken away, even temporarily, is going to cost you. But, for three times the price...sure. Consider Donat as good as dead." He turned away to head back to the same inn he'd mentioned before. "Remember, half the money by tomorrow, or I can't guarantee anything gets done. Same inn as before, ask for Kojiro."

A fake attempt on the King, for the purposes of getting close to Donat. A bit of a roundabout...but potentially two birds with one stone, if he played his cards right. The fake attempt would give him the layout of the castle, and having the guards under Hazael's control on his side would give him plenty of escape opportunities or ways to get back into places that would no doubt be under heavier guard after the attempt on the King. It wasn't nearly as bad a plan as he'd initially thought, but...only an amateur wouldn't expect something to go wrong. No strategy, no matter how articulate, survives reaching the battlefield.

He'd need to do a little bit of "research" tonight...but that would be no problem.

[Assistant]
Astarte & Hazael

People seemed to come together a bit better now. They were now willing to follow her, or at least, that's what she thought. Now, what was next? She motioned something to her brother on the rooftop. If someone were to turn around, they'd see a shadow hurrying out of sight. Kendrick, Hazael's brother, who was watching over everything and will now inform everyone of Hazael's companions and who they should be watching. It was thought, Hazael was almost sure that Donat was already on their case. She felt the approaching danger, that's for sure, but right now, she couldn't back down, not after so many preparations. "Dismissed, then. We will meet right here again tomorrow."

Astarte was confused as ever, and wanted to demand some kind explanation. What his sister had said meant nothing to him. He'd follow her to her home if necessary, but he wanted a real run down on how the hell did Hazael got on to everything that was happening. "Sis, I-!" Before he could say anything, Hazael stopped him by simply putting her hand up.

"Ask anything you want to Kendrick. I have some things to take care of right now. Don't be late tomorrow, Assie." Hazael said, smiling at her brother and then walked to where Salazar was and motioned with her head for him to follow her. When she was sure there was no one else aroudn, she raised her voice. "Then, what is this about, Salazar?"
The Next Day

Three figures stood next to the gate, at afternoon. Donat didn't do anything all throughout the night, and that was all the more worrying. In the gate were the three siblings of the Triumvirate. Many looked at them, all armed up and wearing suits of armor. Hazael was wearing really light armor, as well as her brother Kendrick, who had a bow hanging around his back, and lastly, her baby brother, Astarte was using heavy duty armor that looked extremely heavy, along with a sword and shield.

"So, dear sister of mine, how the hell are we going to bring the other pair of girls here with the Arachnoblaster in our butss, huh?" Kendrick said, while Hazael just sighed. "Whaaaat... No comeback, really? I thought you were a better straightman, woman, that this, sis." Kendrick then started laughing sarcastically. "Then, were there any hot chicks in the group from yesterday? I got a look, but not a real good look at them.... Did any of them have a nice body, sis, unlike you, that are merely bones and skin?" With that, Kendrick won himself a punch to the face. "Ouchie! I've told you not to do that, sis, my face is my toold of trade." He stroked his nose as he said that.

"Shut up already, Ken. I've got enough to worry about as it is." Hazael said, though she said so, she didn't seem all that stressed, meanwhile Astarte didn't talk at all, though. 'He must be nervous... I can't blame him.'

(@Musoka Let's do that chat through PM's, sorry. :P)


[System]
Age: 45 or so
Gender: Male
Species: Dwarf
Class: Primary: Engineer/gadgeteer type mid-level. Specializes in heavy, large machines and devices.
Secondaries: Low level fighter (Preferred weapon: spear with or without shield, also some grappling and dagger)
Low level alchemist: Assayance, mineralogy, some basic herbalism for making those chelating teas you give people with metal poisoning.

Appearance: Well, he looks like a dwarf. His beard and hair are prematurely grey, making him look older than he is. Unlike many of his kin, he keeps them cropped short. He is missing the tip of his right ring finger, and his right middle finger is smashed-looking and has no nail. He refuses to talk about how that happened. He is usually dressed in his work clothes, including a miner's helmet, work gloves, a leather apron, and a tool belt.

Do they dress for other rolls? Bork has some nice dress clothes for meetings with "management", but he only wears them when necessary.

Personality:

Point – blunt and honest to a fault
Point – conscientious and hard-working
Point – private about personal affairs
Point – visionary but practical. Put foundations under those sky castles and such.
Point – Almost as smart as he thinks he is.
Point - Ambitious

Motivation:
 Loves problem solving. Wants to make big and new things happen and make a decent living doing it. He believes (incorrectly) that his estranged wife will reconcile with him if he becomes successful enough.

History:
Bork has made a name for himself as a mining engineer in his home town. He has also made a name for himself as a first-class jerk. He has come to Pigeon Spit because he got tired of working with idiots, and also because his home life had become unbearable (see Relationships). He has convinced himself that Pigeon Spit has much untapped economic potential, and has decided that the community simply needs a non-idiot to take charge and show 'em how it's done. Bork, naturally, has himself in mind as said non-idiot. Nosy people won't find out much more about him because a) He's pretty much unapproachable when it comes to his private life, and b) he doesn't really have much of a private life.

Equipment:

Heavy work clothes including a leather apron, work gloves and boots, a mining helmet, and goggles.
Rock hammer, pick axe, and other mining stuff. Lantern and oil. Some carpentry tools as well. His work gives him access to rope and other things he might need.
A gambeson. A boar spear. A battered round shield. A dagger. (not usually carried)
Dress clothes for business meetings with idiots.
Small library of books on work-related subjects.

Weakness:

Married to work - this is a problem because he has an (estranged) wife. Bork just isn't relationship material
Asocial and tactless - Need a smooth-talker to get you out of a sticky situation? Or to soften hard feelings? Well, you're screwed. Read a room? Nope.
Incorrigible, stubborn know-it-all. Not only is this off-putting (see above) but also a hindrance to rethinking anything once Bork decides he's got stuff figured out.
Partial hearing loss in one ear. One of many things he's in furious denial about. Roll over, Beethoven.
Prone to seasickness. A problem considering the setting's coastal.
Can't swim. Ditto.
Uncultured. Bork is literate and knows his practical disciplines left and right. However, he doesn't do poetry or romances or stuff. Or music. If a book has lots of dry text about mechanics or mineralogy and confusing illustrations of assaying ovens or lifting cranes, Bork has probably read it. If it doesn't, he probably hasn't.
Mean drunk. Doesn't get drunk very often. But when he does: hooo, boy!

Relationships:
Roswith, estranged wife, left back at home. She resents the amount of time and attention Bork puts into his work and feels emotionally neglected. Bork has misread her discontent and thinks she'll reconcile with him once he's successful. His pursuit of success has, of course, only made things worse between them.
Rorik Fellforest (LN Dwarven Fighter/Cleric)- Mining captain, go-to source for any stone that needs to be quarried in Pigeon Spit. So far he and Bork get along simply because they have interests and goals in common. Whether their personalities remain compatible is yet to be seen.
Nelthurin Sebheon (aka "Nelf the Elf") (N Rogue) - Harbormaster. Interested in what's good for Pigeon Spit, but has some unconventional ideas of where legal authority fits into that. Is happy to work with pirates and smugglers if it means bringing wealth and goods into town. He and Bork are ambivalent about one another, but are currently willing to set aside differences to develop the harbor.

Character goal: Become successful and wealthy in his business. Reconcile with his wife.

Goals you would like for Pigeon Spit: Bigger and better-run mines (by himself, of course). Bigger and better run-port facilities (ditto).

[User]
Home coming
As the waves come into the sleepy little coastal village, a ship starts to unload it cargo. Grain, metal goods, supplies for the coming winter, military equipment for a small garrison, and other items that would be needed. Ten solders and five archers were preparing to disembark. The tents would only be useful till the first real storm came. Earlier in the day, the two large warships had fired flares and cannons announcing the arrival. A few of the ships had left port, running the shallows so they could not be boarded and searched. No captain wants to have his vessel searched or worse seized.

Andrew Richard Whitewood III, now an Abbot was coming home. The village was originally called Dragon Spit, till the Dragons took offense to the name and it has hastily changed. Andrew was a noble bastard of the royal court. He and his mother were exiled to Pigeon Spit. He ended up being turned loose in these streets as a child, to survive or die on his own. He learned his first trade, thieving, from the pirates, whores, and street rats. He was made an honorable member of the Gold Tooth, the thieves guild, when he could finally pay his dues. Back then, he was called Andy and he spent as much time in the stocks at the docks as he spent in the school.

But life takes funny turns at times. His was when the Red Dragon, Fire claw, and the Sea Dragon, Riptide found him useful. They wanted a treaty with the king, territory to hunt and in return peace. Men and dragons have warred for as long as they have been alive. So Andy was sent to the king with a message. His uncle the king, kept him at the royal court. Andy's life took a second funny turn, he was educated and assigned to the church to keep him from being a royal pawn in court politics. It was there Andrew found that he had skills for administration and a distaste for royal politics.

Now his uncle was sending him "home" quietly banishing him from the royal court. Back to Pigeon Spit with instructions to help it become a city, help prepare for the coming war with the Western Isles, and of course pay the proper taxes.

After the troops gear was loaded on the barge, next came the horses. Andrew was placed on a smoke grey mare at the captain of the guard's instance. Andrew was not sure if this was to get him killed off, either by the horse bucking him off or by someone mad at the king. At the thought of someone thinking about assassinating him as he arrived with two large war ships docked close enough to send sailors to destroy the town, made his heart beat fast for the moment. Then he shook his head at thinking that he had been at court too long. First chance, he gets, he is getting off this horse, put on normal clothes, and get something to drink at the Rusty Peg Tavern.

[Assistant]
As the barge started its trip in, the horse shifted uneasy with the waves as they came along the dock. There were row boats many had left a sailor to guard it. As the lines were secured, he made his triumphant reentry to Pigeon Spit by falling off the horse and on to the dock. Andrew's handlers had told him that riding in on a horse would make him look royal, being at court had polluted his thinking that this was a good idea. Now, the small crowd that had gathered to see the commotion, laughed to themselves.

Andrew waved off his handlers, picked himself up and belly laughed loudly. Bringing a roar of laughter from the crowed. Better to be thought the fool and to be found competent than be thought competent and found the fool, he thought. He then proceeded to push pass the pomp, his captain and servant,and went to greet the people. A few he remembered from his childhood, a couple he asked about family members. It was his attempt at letting the people know he was one of them, even if he dressed like one of them. By the late meal, his story would have made it from porch, to tavern, to table, to wash line and everyone would know who he was. Not all of it would be true, but not all gossip was bad and having some confusion gave him a little power.

At the end of the line was Lilly, a woman a little older than himself, with two children in tow. He took her hand and then hugged her. She was his first "true love" and now she was married to a forester with children of her own. She introduced him to her children as Uncle Andy, which confused those that did not know him and the guard. He took her arm, picked up a child and headed for the tavern to catch up on what had happened while he was gone.


[System]
Gender: Female
Appearance: "Just remember, this one is mine."(Red hair and eyes, pale skin, gold and silver scissors, red dress with black trim and frills)
Personality: At first glance, VV seems rather cheerful. And this is not entirely untruthful. The Doll can be quite happy... it's just that she's also quick to anger and quick to violence, as well as rather hostile to others. At least she's usually initially friendly. However, VV is also highly possessive of her Doll Master. She dislikes letting them out of her sight and follows them practically everywhere when she can, and becomes rather irritable if they begin spending too much time alone with anyone else. VV is okay if it's multiple people, but alone? She'll be very unhappy with her Doll Master. She also has a tendency to speak rather harshly, saying things like "This is mine" in reference to her Doll Master. VV has a tendency to be overzealous in combat and possesses an aggressive fighting style. She is quite arrogant in combat, claiming that she is never going to lose. Even still, however, she can initially be friendly as long as she actually likes someone. Though if that someone starts trying to spend time alone with her Doll Master, things will rapidly go downhill. VV loves food, especially sweets(some of the neighboring countries to Saulbine have fantastic sweets, in her opinion), and has a notable interest in stuffed toys.
Abilities: VV is strong enough to effortlessly wield Calamity Edge one-handed(blades shut), but she is weaker then many other physical combat Dolls. She compensates for this by being highly fast and agile, able to outpace some Dolls and Marionettes entirely. She is also less durable then other physical combat Dolls, though she is still far more durable then a human being and is invulnerable to nearly all mundane weaponry like all Dolls.
Weapons: Duality of Laceration: Calamity Edge - VV wields a giant pair of shears, as long as she is tall(about 5'1). The handle is a gleaming gold, and the blades an equally shining silver. Held shut, Calamity Edge acts as an effective sword, capable of cutting and parrying. However, when she uses both hands to fight with them open, the razor-sharp blades can slice through nearly anything. Even shut, the shears are capable of cutting solid stone like butter, and even effortlessly shearing through metal. When opened, Calamity Edge's true power shines. The shears are capable of cutting even the intangible, such as Dolls who have hidden themselves from existence. However, as VV cannot see the invisible, she requires some idea of where they are located to do such a thing. VV also states that the more power she gets, the more Calamity Edge will be capable of.
Misc: VV has an "older sister", /\/\(pronounced AA).

[User]
Annalee Diaz

The sun had just set, and Annalee found herself late for her curfew, again. She rushed down the nearly empty streets of the city, cutting through allies where she could, and dreading every new second. Father will be cross with me again, I hate to worry him so much. Annalee looked up to the shadows of the roofs of the buildings constantly, hoping that her doll Megumi was still following her in case she got into some sort of trouble.

Luckily, the only thing that went wrong for Annalee on the way was time. She heard the great clock in the center of the city chime the half hour as she burst through the door to her family's home. There, in the siting room, was her mother and father. They looked up at Annalee as she struggled to catch her breath, and she tried to get out an apology before her father started speaking.

"And what should I assume held you this time my dear? Should I be worried for your safety out there, or are you simply incapable of keeping track of the time? Must your mother sew pockets into all of your dresses so you may keep a pocket-watch?" Her father's tone was calm, kind. It made Annalee want to cry. I can't tell him the exact reason...

"I'm sorry, father. I was helping a young man regain something he had lost." Annalee heard herself say in a voice much calmer than she felt. It's not a lie... The real reason she was late this time was that she and Megumi had run into a marionette earlier, and had separated the Puppeteer from him, indeed helping him regain something. Himself.

Her father seemed to deflate at her words, the harsh kindness in his tone lost. "Well then, I suppose that is a well enough reason to lose the time, however I expect you do understand how much we worry for you when you are not her by curfew." He looked over to her mother and continued speaking. "You seem to come back later and later each day."

Now, her mother began to speak. "Dear, I forgive you for today. From how you look, I can tell that you had a rough time of it. Now, off to bed dear. You have errands to run in the morning." Her mother walked over to her and gave her a quick hug, kissing her on the forehead softly. Annalee said goodnight and went up to her room, changing into her pajamas before opening her window to allow Megumi in.

[Assistant]
Nuul

"Not now, Eren." Nuul said, "This is important."

The Grimoire floated openly in front of her, and she seemed to be staring upwards into empty space, or darkness as it were. What Eren couldn't see was the nightmare before her eyes. The Pursuers had shown their fangs, and now they had them buried deep into the thug's flesh, and they held him in the air as the others rushed past, not giving the man a chance to breathe.

This was one of the powers of the Pursuers, the Nightmare Sphere. They would pursue their target anywhere, even into unconsciousness and they would not relent. The thug was holding them off fairly well with the knife he had in his free arm, but even so, he was still bleeding quite badly from the wounds he had received.

"That's to be expected, I suppose." She said, engrossed in the scene. "He'll last a while."

[User]
Gehrman walked through the streets, searching for the address of his next hunt. His notes were scrambled and overwritten numerous times, so he had to look at it twice before he was sure it was the right house. He unpacked his suitcase and made a last check of his weapons. He loaded his nailgun and placed it in his holster, while he equipped the Nail Driver over his arm like a boxing glove. He tested out the weight and balance of the weapon with a few quick jabs.

"That's right. Shouldn't be a lot of rust left after that metal Doll from last week."

His preparations done, Gehrman stepped up to the front door of Eren Deville's house and knocked on the door.

I only hope I'm not too late to save this soul.

[Assistant]
Ryan Macfield
Ryan was at his home in his room, which was not too small, but not too spacious either. What made this room different from most rooms in Saulbine is the abundance of mirrors, which would make Ryan look like a mirror collector, but in fact, he isn't, and weren't interested in collecting mirrors for sake of it before, while pretending so. Then why does he pretend that he is a mirror collector and fill his room with mirrors? Ryan briefly opens the door to check what is happening outside of his room, and started speaking to the largest mirror.
"Ashling, it doesn't look like my parents are coming here anytime soon. You can come out now."

[User]
Regina Victoria

The day continued to get ever stranger, as a short redhead came from nowhere to interrupt her impending demise. With relatively little space on the balcony, the creepy man was still too close for comfort... and now a Doll. To the nun, this was hardly the godsend that anyone else would be treating it as; the number of monsters she had to fight had gone up.

At least this one, inexplicably huge scissors aside, would be easier to fight than the Marionette: she wasn't visually displaced from her actual location (the hand on her shoulder gave it away) and she'd hardly be expecting to be dealt with by the person she'd saved. Though maybe she'd have to let the Doll go and simply report her to the higher-ups. Even if it was a monster saving your life, betrayal was the worst crime imaginable.

"Fine, kill it," Regina answered, gripping her nails tightly and mentally adding 'then leave'.

[Assistant]
The moment the words left the nun's mouth, VV's lips spread into a wide grin.

She let out a small laugh. There it was. The completion of their deal. The seal that would confirm the nun's nature as her anchor. Now, they had forged a contract that could not be broken, at least not without certain extreme circumstances being met. VV was in the human world, and she knew there was nothing that could take her out. "Contract accepted."

The Marionette had evidently gotten over his shock, one fist lunging towards her, towards her at an impossible angle. That wasn't right at all...! It was then when she noticed, the coiling shadow that was the Puppeteer wasn't inside the man's body, but to the side, to the right of him. So that was it...

Moments before the fist could connect, VV's fist lashed out! It struck the air beside the Marionette's head, and there was an ugly crack as the image of his body snapped to the side, relocating to its appropriate location. He reeled back, clutching his nose as he fell backwards, toppling off the balcony and to the ground below. He hit the ground with a thud below. Idiot. Didn't he know anything about dealing with Dolls?

Placing one foot on the railing, VV looked back over her shoulder at the nun. "Now don't do anything stupid."

With that, she sprang off of the railing, landing boots-first below on the cobblestones. They cracked beneath her from the impact, dislodged and kicked into the air, several cobblestones clattering across the ground as she straightened. The Marionette was back on his feet already, both eyes fixed firmly on her. His body was already to the right of the shadow within again. Placing one hand on her hip, VV laughed.

"Really?!" she began, "Do you seriously think that's going to work? I can see you inside him. Twisting around like the parasite you are. You can't solve that, can you?"

The Marionette's hands clenched into fists. "Doll... I'll butcher you and that bitch!"

"Pffftahahahaha wow, you're funny," VV wiped a mock tear from one eye. This idiot seriously thought he had a chance? That parasite was going to learn a whole new world of knowledge in a few moments. Well, before dying. "But there's no more time to mess around. Come on out, Calamity Edge!"

VV outstretched her right hand. The air seemed to warp and distort, as red sparks materialized from nothing and gathered in her palm. With a flash, an immense pair of gold-and-silver shears had formed. The center of the handles was held tight, shut so that each blade formed a single double-edged sword. The metal hissed as VV swung it into the air, red sparks still raining down from the pristine metal that composed the massive shears. There was no further hesitation, VV's crimson-clad body blurred as she suddenly charged towards the Marionette! The sheer speed, the speed of a Doll and even moreso, dislodged cobblestones from the ground with each step.

The Marionette attempted to use his distorted image, pushing himself to the side harder than before, but really it was useless. VV's free hand latched out and caught his shoulder with an ugly crack. Well, something near it. It was hard to tell where it had hit, but wherever it was had sent the bastard stumbling!

She wouldn't use Calamity Edge to inflict lethal injury, especially not now. Not until her real target was exposed. The red-headed Doll's hand blurred, and with a thunk slammed directly into the spot that was occupied by the Puppeteer. The Marionette let out a stranged cry of shock as his image once again returned to its proper place, and it was now clear what was going on. VV was reaching inside, a shimmering light around her wrist as her arm sunk in deeper, grabbing for her target. The parasite was about to get just what it deserved!

There was a hiss of metal through the air, and VV barely snapped Calamity Edge up in time to deflect it. It was, apparently, the Marionette's hand, reshaped into a metallic blade. He was already preparing to lash out again, but...

"There. I've got you now, bastard!"

VV's fingers wrapped around the coiling darkness and began to draw it free. The Marionette's hand returned to normal and he staggered, letting out a gurgle as VV began to pull the parasite from his body. Finally, his eyes glazed over as he passed out, his body going slack. VV wrenched the monster free as he collapsed, and tossed it down onto the cobblestones! It was human-like in shape,though it lacked most features beyond eyes and pale skin... and its hands were simply sharp edges. No wonder it had wanted a human body so badly.

She could already see its shape shimmering! But it was disoriented, she wouldn't let it get away!

Calamity Edge slammed downwards. There was a wet thunk, then a crunch as it pierced all the way through and cut into the stone below. The Puppeteer's body ceased to shimmer and returned to its natural place as blood sprayed from its chest, splattering across VV's clothing and across the ground.

"Like I said, not your lucky day, is it?" she commented as she drew Calamity Edge from his body. The shears faded into red sparks as she straightened, standing over the monster.

The parasite's body went limp, collapsing onto the ground as blood continued to spray from it, coating the red-headed Doll. But it was starting to vanish, the blood seeming to seep into the girl's body. Indeed, the body was dissipating into a red mist too... all of it flowing into VV. Soon, the blood, and the corpse, was gone, the only remains of a battle being the unconscious former Marionette and the damaged cobblestones.

"Sheesh, he wasn't even very filling," VV stretched, "Oh well, he's dead now."


[System]
---
Appearance:

Gender: Male

Age: 36

Bio: Tyler's life was wholly unremarkable before the apocalypse. He'd married his girlfriend, Helen, at 28 and came to live a middle-class existence with her and his two eventual children. He was a contract worker working in construction and his wife was an aspiring nurse with a small growing hobby as an author. Tyler didn't have the closest relationship with his parents, but the death of his mother when he was only 35 inspired Tyler to work toward a greater relationship with his father.

The apocalypse a year later put a stop to all that, where Tyler's father was one of the many initial victims of the outbreak. Tyler managed to get his family to a refugee camp, where he believed they would be safe. The situation around them quickly deteriorated and the refugee camp became smaller and smaller. A giant horde finally finished the camp off for good and took the lives of Tyler's wife and son. Tyler and his little girl, Katie, fell in with the other survivors. Tyler swore to protect his daughter from the horror surrounding her.

Their group were a disorganized mess at first, losing and gaining members haphazardly. Leadership of the group fell on many different individual's shoulders. When it finally landed on Tyler's shoulders, it was his status as one of the original members and a family man that put him there. He didn't desire to lead at first, and the few deaths the group suffered under his care only made Tyler dislike the position more. Eventually, Tyler saw his role as more of a protector and a leader, and he wanted to protect his people like they were family. It was around this time that a man named Brad joined the group, who quickly fell in awe with Tyler. Unfortunately, further death put the group at odds. They suffered bandit attacks and suffering at the hands of other humans.

Around the time a woman named Lynn joined the group, Tyler suffered betrayal by one of his group members, who stole supplies and ran off on his own. Tyler became depressed and vulnerable within his position as leader. He bonded with Lynn and eventually started a relationship with her. Still, his people were displeased, so after a large chunk of them went off on their own, Tyler decided he had to lead the group with a heavier hand. The group grew upset with Tyler getting harder on them and they lashed out, making him turn further into a dictator. Eventually, the kinds of people that tolerated Tyler's behaviour were mostly men with shady morality. Tyler came to believe this was the only way for his group to survive, but he was still upset with the world around him. Tyler wondered if he could change it all.

Tyler was initially encouraged by Lynn to work toward a better future, but Tyler came to believe that future was unobtainable with the rotten people all around him. Betrayal eventually was met with death, and Tyler thought of a plan to ensure the survival of the next generation-- his daughter's generation. His group came to clear the catacombs underneath New Orleans, where Tyler eventually began to bring girls so that he could get them pregnant and raise their child in the manner he felt was best for the future. Tyler kept his daughter Katie locked away in the catacombs to shield her from what he had to do. Eventually, Tyler realised that the men working for him were restless and unpredictable. When even threats of execution didn't keep them in line, Tyler was forced to construct an arena for them to entertain themselves with. Even more, Tyler let the men have sex with his pregnant women. It was necessary, he believed, for the future he envisioned.

Lynn, already disgusted by Tyler's actions, felt that this was the final straw. She left the group and Tyler grew furious. He killed anyone that supported Lynn and sent a group after her, though they were unsuccessful in their search.

Tyler continued this way of life until he came across a man named Bruce Levi, the mayor of a community called Haywood. The two struck a deal where Levi would secretly give his women away to Tyler in exchange for supplies. This deal continued uninterrupted until the people of Haywood discovered Levi's secret and overthrew him. They sought to eliminate Tyler and planned an assault on his catacombs. Just before the attack, Tyler managed to capture Lynn, though he was ultimately unsure what to do with her. He hated her for leaving, but he still cared about her in some way. Still, he put her into his arena to entertain his men, believing Lynn was ultimately strong enough to survive. During Haywood's attack, Lynn escaped from her prison and revealed to Tyler she had been infected in the arena. She attacked him as she turned and began to overpower him. Brad saved Tyler's life and killed Lynn, but was bitten by her as a result. Tyler was then forced to kill Brad.

The attack resulted in many of Tyler's men being killed and the walkers in the arena being let loose. The walkers ended up killing his women, ending Tyler's hope for the future. One of Tyler's raiders, Lauren, had grown upset with Tyler and escaped with his daughter during the assault. She and her boyfriend Bull managed to survive with Katie in tow. Tyler, on the other hand, found an injured man, Enrique. Tyler told the man that his name was Thomas and that he was a prisoner. The pair then escaped the catacombs with one of Tyler's men, Bex, who went along with the charade.

A few weeks later, Tyler and his trio sought to enter a community called Outpost. Tyler now called himself "Thomas Zuchowski". Eventually, the three were let in and Tyler became a member of the community's scouts. He met a man named Matt who was tired with the leadership of Outpost and wanted more power. Tyler worked with him to frame the leader of the scouts, Reggie, for murder and mutiny. Matt became known as the man to take down Reggie and Tyler became the new leader of scouts due to his work in taking down Reggie and the friendships he had made.

Tyler then wanted the scouts to attack Haywood, where he believed his daughter had been taken. Matt convinced Outpost's council to approve of the idea and the plan was in motion. The stand-off between the scouts and the people of Haywood resulted in Lauren being murdered under Tyler's orders and Tyler's duplicity soon after coming to light. Still, Tyler managed to escape with his daughter, the person that mattered the most to him. He realised his mistake in hurting countless people to attain some hope for the future when his hope for the future had always been his little girl. Tyler then left New Orleans with Katie and travelled North, where they eventually came to Baton Rouge.

[User]
Tyler - Baton Rouge/Motel

By the time they got back to the motel and settled in, it had become late afternoon, and the sun was bleeding across the sky. Tyler stepped out of the room had had fashioned for Katie and himself, moving across the balcony to look out toward the city. He crossed his arms over the railing, his eyes examining the pool sitting in the courtyard-- covered now, after they had moved the dead bodies into it. The smell was still incredible, even from here, and Tyler wasn't looking forward to having to burn the bodies eventually.

If they planned to stay here, anyway.

A motel probably wasn't the best place to live, especially when it probably wasn't doing so well before the dead started walking around. Tyler turned to lean his back against the railing, barely mindful of the fact that said railing was missing a sizable chunk just a few doors down. He looked at the room next to his own, that he'd insisted Scarlett and Liam take. As the rooms were fairly small, it was only fair that they stay in the next room, leaving George a room to himself. Tyler wasn't sure Scarlett would ever get along with George.

Leaving the blood-red landscape behind him, Tyler stepped up to Scarlett's room, only briefly knocking before asking, "Katie? We need to talk."

[Assistant]
Abram - Mall - Magnus and Co./Sam

When the man presented himself, every single one of Abram's military instincts kicked in. His thumb pulled the hammer back on his pistol. He grabbed Samantha by the shoulder and pulled her behind him, covering half his body with a ceiling-high support pillar. He saw that the man wasn't pointing a weapon at them, but this didn't appeal to Abram in any way. Weapon or no weapon, this guy was still a threat. "I don't want any trouble, pal."

His sights were aimed directly at the man's forhead, and his finger would pull the trigger at the mere flinch of a muscle. The man spoke in an accent and announced that they were surrounded. He was incorrect, however... as a few men trickled to either side of them, he backed up, making sure that Samantha was shielded. He knew she was independent and could protect herself, but his knee-jerk reaction was to protect his friends.

"Look, I don't know what you want, but I'm afraid we can't come with you..." He said. He had to make their plea believable. The lie brilliantly unfolded in his head, and then through his lips. "We've got a kid - precious little girl waiting for us back at our place. Th-the apartment building a few blocks down!" He picked the building they'd passed on the way in.

His feigned tone of fear did not show his true confidence. He was sure he could get them both to the exit if need-be. "Please, sir... W-we can take you there!"


[System]
Age: 19
Appearance: Short and with a sickly looking complexion. Her thin face is framed by long, straight black hair that falls all the was to her thighs. She wears a long black skirt and a bulky brown coat. Has a scar the extends from the left side of her forehead up under her hairline.

Personality: Morbid but affable, Charlie is awash in nervous energy at all times. Talks a lot. Talks to herself a lot and doesn't have much of a mental filter. Comfortable with the sight of blood and most other things that normal people are squeamish about. Loves true crime books. Her greatest fear is waking up one day to the realization that she's a serial killer.

Skills: Rifle shooting, Taxidermy, anatomical knowledge of pests.

Other: Uses a handgun.

[User]
As the engine of the helicopter hummed and the blades chopped through the air, Mikkish sat and went over in his head how he wound up in this situation. Maniacles Corporation was quite innovative, so the helicopter they were in looked futuristic, not unlike those vertibirds from Fallout.

Maniacles was supposedly the reason guns were now so cheap, and affordable to anyone. His own glock was only $50. When they weren't selling and manufacturing guns and other technology they were hiring and selling mercenaries for wars overseas.

Yes, there were wars, even despite the Pests. Mikkish reluctantly worked a fast food grill and killed god knows how many Pests in his life. As far back as he remembered, everyone owned a gun, a pistol at least. He himself kinda sucked as a marksman, being gifted in hand to hand combat instead, particularly MMA.

He wondered what they were off to go study. What "magic?" Clearly it was meant for young people. Would it be college like? He always wanted to go to University, but never could scrape up the money. He looked around at the others in the big helicopter, and wondered what was up with them.

[Assistant]
Alexis was excited to be on the helicopter. She could finally do what she never did in her life because of her running. She could go to college. Who cares if this "magic" thing is not really. She was happy. A big smile on her face. Her Desert Eagle was at his usual at her hip holster , the new paint job really looked good. She loved her weapon , even named her Turli , for who knows what reasons ?

This Maniacles corporation really knew how to make good weapon and her ex-boyfriend gunsmith made it better. Going at the range was her favored thing of the day , besides the morning practice. Every now and then Pests would come to the track and she had to shoot'em. Good target practice as she called it.

The helicopter was full of people. She didn't knew anyone there but she saw confusion on some faces and on others ? Excitement.
She plans to make full of this opportunity. She only hopes that there is a shooting range at the campus or maybe a Pest attack occasionally.

[User]
Most of the people on the helicopter ride were quiet, even those that looked like they had the jitters. One, though, you couldn't get to shut up.

"Magic is real. Magic is real. Gonna be a wizard. Magic is real. Wingardium Leviosa, Hokus Pocus. Magic is real." Charlie mumbled under her breath as she tapped her feet in tune with the muffled WHUP WHUP WHUP WHUP that the helicopter blades made in the air. Charlie was a big believer in the concept of thought affecting the body. Not in any hippy dippy mystical placebo effect kind of way, no, in a practical way. She'd read in a book that when you repeated and ruminated on an idea the neural pathways related to that idea got stronger and stronger, like working out a muscle, so that in the future information about that topic was easier to carry and it allowed you to accept the ideas much easier.

The book had been about suicide clusters. Good read, but a little overwrought.

She looked around at the people in the cabin, still mumbling to herself, and wondered for the tenth time today whether this really was on the up and up. Those things where they slapped an explosive collar around your neck and made you fight to the death didn't actually happen (at least on this scale, she wasn't willing to rule it completely out of existence), but there were those weird sex islands that big businessmen and politicians occasionally owned.

Maybe Amos had been right about this. She hadn't exactly gotten her uncles permission to go on this trip.

She should have bought a phone before coming out here.

"Magic is real. Magic is real. Weird sex island battle royal. Abracadabra, avada cadarva."

[Assistant]
Mikkish smirked.

"Holy shit, Battle Royal. Thats what this reminds me of." He said, breaking the ice with Charlie.

Just then, a man in a suit entered the passengers section of the air craft.

"Ahem. Uh, sorry to interrupt, but just want everyone's attention real quick."

He paused a second as Mikkish and several others turned their attention.

"My name is Mathew Williams. You may call me Matt. I just wanted to go over, real quick, some details of whats going on. First off, you all know about the Pests, right? Well you may or may not have heard that they have been increasing in number over the past decade, despite how much people are killing them and all of the actions taken to bring their population down, there are more Pests each year than the last. In addition to this, not all of the Pests are the sizes of puppies like you have probably seen. Many of our mercenaries have died fighting some which we believe to be breeders for the Pests. I don't really have my projector with me so I cant show you, but these breeders are huge, from elephant sized to large building sized. These larger ones are a lot more reclusive though. You wont find one walking through a city, most likely." He explained, "Any questions so far?"

[User]
"No? We all good? Good." Matt said, as he continued.

"So, Maniacles Corporation has been in contact with various little hidden towns all over the world for years, but only recently have they agreed to do business with us. You're probably wondering what hidden societies I'm talking about. Well what if I told you there were people all over the world who could read minds, set things on fire by blinking at them, and even cause a dead body to walk and act alive? Well as crazy as it sounds, these people have formed hidden societies all over the world. They are called "mages." But the most amazing thing about this is not that there are mages. The most amazing thing about all this is that almost anyone, any average Joe or Julie, can become a mage through practice. These abilities that mages have can destroy Pests much more efficiently than a glock or even an assault rifle could, and now people can be trained and develop these abilities. There are even colleges in these towns. Towns that, for the record, have no Pest problem, or at least a very low infestation problem. When I say college, I do mean university, by the way, meaning room and board and learning magic in a classroom setting." He paused

"Any last questions?"

[Assistant]
"Alright then. Just a few more details to go through, there is a chance of injury or even death if instructions are not followed strictly, and anyone who's GPA falls too low will be kicked out of the program and sent back home.

Another couple of agents began passing around papers, which asked for signatures. It included being paid while in the program, what benefits they had access to, the risk of injury and death, notification of what can get someone kicked out of the program including murder and too much damage to Maniacles property, and a GPA falling too low.

Mikkish, of course, signed without really looking. He just wanted the pay and the college girls he just figured out he would probably meet. He never could afford to go to university, now he was being paid to go experience something he didn't think he would get to.

Sooner than anyone thought, the helicopter started to land, and the doors opened, revealing they had landed on the roof top of a tall building, overlooking a city of high rises and sky scrapers. It looked more like a smaller NYC than anything out of Harry Potter.

"Welcome to Malficus City, found on Malficus Island. Somewhere West of Northern California. The academy is at the other end of the city. Hope you're all in the mood for some sight seeing." Said Matt.

It was late afternoon. The neon lights of the city would be visible soon. Mikkish grinned. He never lived in a big city like this, and wondered what transit was like. He especially couldn't wait to see what clubs he could get into.

[User]
Charlies feet pounded on the roof as she hopped out of the helicopter, walking over tho the edge and looking down over the sweeping city. Definitely not a sex island then. You didn't build all this when a summer camp sufficed. Had magic built all this? She shuttered. She hoped wizards weren't all dicks and idiots. Wizards in fiction tended to be either dicks or idiots. They could take out pests and had hidden that from the world. That definitely leaned dickish.

Anyway, she did was she came here to do and signed her form on the safely railing, walking it back and handing it over the Matt before turning back to the crowd of students. "Anybody got cell reception?" She asked out loud. She didn't have a cell phone herself. Nobody to call. If there weren't any bars here that was a suspicious sign that this might still be a weird, murderous hoax. "If you do that means we're definitely not fighting to the death or something."

[Assistant]
I was sitting in a corner of the helicopter, as far away from the others as I could. I was clutching a bow, a quiver of arrows, and a small case full of my personal belongings. It wasn't because I didn't like anyone, or that I was a cold person or anything... just... a bit socially awkward, or shy, I dunno... a lot of people back in my old town didn't really like me. Probably because they thought I was weird a bow instead of a gun... or that I was always reluctant to attack pests... or... my presence... some people even spread nasty rumors that I was a form of pest that puts its prey into a relaxed and defenseless state before killing them. I took a deep breath, that's over now. It's a new start.

I didn't have that many questions, so I stayed quiet and stared out the window in silence. When the sheet was handed to me, I read through the paper quickly and then signed.

When we landed, I got out of the helicopter, slipping my bow and quiver over my shoulder, and walked to the edge of the rooftop. "Whoa... how... could this have been hidden for so long...? Magic's amazing..." I looked at the city below and took a deep breath. This was going to be my home from now on. I never really thought I'd be able to go to college. I mean, I had great grades, and I qualified some scholarships, but for the most part they wouldn't take care of everything, and I couldn't very well work a full time job and do college full time... before this, I had merely been saving up.

[User]
"Catch up!" Shouted Matt, giddily, as he walked down a flight of stairs into the building.

He lead everyone down through the Maniacles building and out into the city streets. As soon as they got out...they came to find a city much like any other. For Mikkish, and perhaps a few others, this didn't dull the excitement of being in a city. But cars whizzed by occasionally, the city was very pedestrian friendly though. Occasionally, a person would by seen wearing a witch or wizard hat along with normal clothes. Some could be seen lighting cigarettes with flames on the tips of their fingers, or blasting themselves with cold air right from their hands to cool themselves in the heat of the day.

"Like I said, these mages were here, having their own modern society when we got here. Not sure how." Matt said, he turned around to Charlie as he kept moving "We are trying to keep our operations with these mages as discrete as possible. The only cell reception is for cell phone companies found on the island."

They passed two men who were throwing punches at each other lightning quick, seriously like something right out of DBZ. It was impossible, for a normal human being to move at these speeds. Matt moved around them casually. Mikkish did similar, but stared with great curiosity.

[Assistant] "A-Ah, sorry!" I called out, before turning around and rushing after the group. I looked around in amazement, my town hadn't really been this big or bustling. It was a bit dizzying... I hope that I don't get lost later. I tried not to stare at people, wearing weird accessories, clothing, or doing impossible things. However, I did stop when we reached the two fighting. "S-Shouldn't we try to stop this? O-One of them could get hurt." I clutched the locket around my neck, twisting it slightly in my grip. It was an unfortunate nervous habit of mine...

[User]
But Matt ignored Joe as he lead the students on.

"Damn dude, are we there yet?" Mikkish said, annoyed by the heat and humidity.

"Oh no, we got about another hour of walking ahead of us." Matt said, a hint of insincerity in his voice.

Ahead was a couple of buildings on a hill. The lawn was freshly and neatly mowed. The sidewalks swerved in an intentional, organized pattern. Young adults stood or sat, chatting or studying about the lawn.

"Hey wait...an hour? You're telling me this ain't the school?" Mikkish asked intuitively.

Matt, of course, ignored as he continued into the school grounds.

[Assistant] I was a bit taken aback by his lack of an answer. |"B-Be assertive Joe, these people could get hurt if we don't do anything! We can't just ignore this." I stopped, trying my best not to seem nervous. "H-Hey! I-I asked a question! W-We should try to stop this, shouldn't we!? These people could get hurt, couldn't they!?" I tried to keep my voice and body from trembling. I usually never raised my voice, and I tried to always keep my emotions in check...


[System]
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Weapon: Ebon uses what looks like a huge tower shield known as "The Kingdom". A very heavy shield that Ebon can swing and bash his foes with, but there's a secret to it that is it's true power. The Kingdom stores about a hundred "R-Types", drone ships about the size of a handgun within. Each of these R-Types can be used for different purposes with different equipment, from simply being fast moving shooting drones, to melee-oriented drones that grapple and swarm his enemies, to recon that allows him to have a knowledge of the battlefield. Some drones can take more damage than others, and if they can return to The Kingdom they can get repaired within the next few minutes. The R-Types are build around a unique beacon that allows Ebon to control them with his semblance more easily. As long as they are near by he doesn't need to look at them to control one of his R-Types. While mechanical in nature, rely entirely on Ebon's semblance to operate; if anything else tries to all they'll get is a useless model ship.

Specialty: Ebon prefers to use his R-Types to fight for him, controlling them from a safe distance to break down his opponents. Not that he can't handle himself in a fight, but this is just how he works best. Like a sniper, it's best if the enemy isn't in his face.

Semblance: Ebon's Semblance is basically Telepathy and Telekinesis which he calls "Mind of Matter", but it works on just about everything, even inanimate objects. Specifically what it's like is as though he was right where the person or object is, and he can see what they see, hear what they hear, and feel what they feel like he was there himself. He can also use this power to communicate with others or read their surface thoughts. With long focus and concentration he could even dig through their memories for basic information, like their names or things they're very familiar with. He can telepathically "Listen" to someone as fast as it take to listen normally, though he needs some time if he wants to decipher more jumbled messages that come from trying to read someone's thoughts.

He can telekentically control inanimate objects or unconscious creatures. He has to see what he wants to telekentically control unless it's one of his R-Types, in which he can control without looking as long as they're close to him. Ebon can use his telekinesis to augment his strength as he usually uses it to throw very heavy objects around, occasionally even his foes if they make an opening.

Ebon has an effective range of about 50ft away from him that he can easily control or use his telepathy without losing concentration due to the heat of battle. Beyond that Ebon would need to divide his attention on things further away less he lose control over them. If he doesn't need to worry about something disturbing him, Ebon could keep his focus on objects well outside his 50ft range, though any distraction will break his focus and force him to start over.

Personality: Ebon can be a rough guy to be around. He always seems to be on edge, like he expects you to fight him. He can't help it as he grew up with a fairly violent history; you don't make threats you don't intend to carry out, and Ebon is more likely to act on those threats than other people are. He can also be very superficial; he'll judge you for whatever reason, be it your gender, your race, your weapon, your appearance, or even just your name. He can be a hard guy to get close to and he typically does that on purpose as he doesn't want to make emotional connections. If you can tolerate him being an asshole to you, he'll slowly begin to warm up to you, but only if you can prove that you're not about to die any time soon. He hates the idea of losing his friends and will go out of his way to save them, even if he has to kill hundreds of others to do that.

Color: Ebony

Emblem: A castle tower (Kind of like a rook from chess) with three arrows coming from the top. This is suppose to be The Kingdom, and the arrows represent his R-Types.

Appearance: Ebon is a tall, black skinned young man. He has a rather full beard for a 19 year old which he keeps braided. Despite his dark attitude he wears colorful clothing, prefers warm colors like red and yellow, though he doesn't mind wearing light blue and green as well. He also doesn't like shoes and often goes barefoot, though he'll settling for sandals if he has to. Regardless of what his outfit is he always wares a black duster with it's sleeves torn off, and on the back is his emblem in white. He has burn scars covering most of his body, and practically all of his face except around his mouth where his beard grows out.

[User]
Shuai Taidan - Sticky Situation

"Gotcha."

What was a semblance? The obvious, textbook answer to such a question would be the manifestation of one's aura, an unique power that was fuelled by the energies of one's very soul. A perfectly accurate and usable definition, but to simply explain the phenomena in such a ... drab and utilitarian manner ... was quite disappointing, especially when there was far more to it. After all, a semblance was a projection of the soul upon the physical world ... or as Taidan saw it, the imposition of one's identity upon reality.

It was the ability to affirm one's sense of self in a world that cared naught for it.

It was to take everything that made somebody a person and shape it into power.

And through that power, they would tell the world that they exist.

That they are.

Time slowed. He could feel the conduits within him come to life. He could feel the burning of his blood, the cycling of energy through his body, the beating of his heart as his aura flowed, the liquid fire of his soul bringing his semblance, his six divine arms, into action. He could feel it all. The emergence of his identity into the world.

The Santouliubi.

Taidan didn't move a single inch.

He didn't need to.

His ethereal arms, once wisps, echoes of his soul ... they became corporeal.

And they struck.

Two of the aura arms twisted around the attacking talons of the Nevermore, bringing their force to bear against the descent of the flying Grimm and stopping them from striking against Taidan. The hands gripped tightly against clawed feet, stalling the bird's fall and forcing the whiplash back into its body. Another pair of arms instead struck at the wings, each one grabbing harshly at the black limbs to stop them from moving or launching any further waves of deadly feathers.

And the last two moved to pull apart the Nevermore's beak, opening its mouth wide ...

In order for Taidan to spear the Huojian into its mouth and launch a stream of burning hot napalm down its gullet.

---

Gratia Mindaro - Zephyr City

"My use of tabletop nomenclature was adequate, Venetia," she replied, shooting a quick glance at her team leader's expression. It was so utterly futile of the noblewoman to hide the annoyance and irritation; the artificially calm face was always there when Venetia found offense in any of their actions. It was too obvious.

And it did not matter to Gratia Mindaro one single bit if her leader knew nothing of the typical bank's closing hours or if the other girl was simply blind.

"I do hope your shitty noblewoman swagger can be toned down, then," said the Mistralese huntress, "because even fucking Fiordilatte over here is better at bullshit than what you've got."

[Assistant]
Sand Vespa – Capture the Fort

It took Sand some time to get back to a watchtower on the outer limits of the fort.

Had she been detected by a large group of Grimm, or seen by the birds perched on the solar arrays, they would have raised enough of a ruckus that she might have needed to fight off a horde of monsters or relocate farther away from her objective. She did not need to make things even more complicated for herself, so she returned using a roundabout route, using the fortifications that dotted the outpost's surroundings for cover.

The small structure she had taken over was one such building. A small pair of towers connected by a mostly collapsed wall that formed a convenient ramp into the two towers. A cannon was set up on what remained of the wall, rusted beyond use. Upon arriving, Sand warily took in her surroundings, waiting and listening for any sign that Grimm had come back while she had been out exploring.

Once she was satisfied that no monsters would jump out at her, she let out a sigh and climbed into the nearest tower.

After being out in the open in Grimm-infested territory, the cool shade and stone walls surrounding her inside the watchtower were an appreciated comfort. The inside was completely empty, and the only features in the walls were large holes one could look out of.

Sand leaned against the tower wall and looked out through one of the openings, much as a guard would have done in this post. Instead of looking for outside threats to the fortress, however, her gaze was fixed on the looming form of Outpost Jeager in the distance.

If she was going to get inside the fortress with minimum hardships, she needed to consider her options.

There were two main entrances that she had seen, leading in and out of the outpost. Large gates that still held strong after all those years. They had likely been closed by the fort's previous inhabitants and the Grimm had not been able to break them down. She had to praise the builders in that regard. Those doors were made to stand up to hordes of monsters, and stand they had. Because of that, she doubted she would be able to pry those doors open herself, never mind doing so without bringing an army of Grimm down on her.

The land walls might have been in various states of disrepair, but they were still solid enough to ward off land bound intruders. With her particular set of skills, she was sure she would be able to climb them if it came to that, but that would leave her completely exposed to the Grimm roosting in the solar array towers. If she alarmed those birds, the other Grimm in the area would probably grow agitated as well.

The coastal wall however, as she had observed earlier, had almost completely collapsed. On her way to the cliff side, she had seen a group of Beowolves march into the complex from a hole in that wall, accessible through a small footpath. In truth, that could be her best way in, but she had no way of knowing what she would find until she went in. For all she knew, the entrance could lead directly to a Beowolf den.

That left the ship entrance, but she was already convinced that place was a Grimm nest. The only difference from the hole in the wall and that was that she would have a better view of what was ahead as she went in. But that did not account for whatever that noise she had heard had been. It gave her a bad feeling. The idea that someone was living in a place like that was unthinkable, so it could not have been a person singing. Perhaps a Grimm had brushed against a machine inside and some recording had started playing. She had no way of knowing unless she investigated. It seemed more and more likely that she would need to. It was simply too suspicious to be left alone.

She examined her options from several angles before concluding she was simply stalling. It seemed more and more likely that things would go wrong at some point or another, and she would have to face the Grimm of Oupost Jeager. Even if she made it in undetected, she lacked much information regarding the fort's interior, how many Grimm were inside, or how long it would take her to find what she needed. Eventually, things were bound to go south on her.

And then what?

This was not the first time field work as a student research assistant in Atlas had sent her to a dangerous place. She could hold her own in a fight. This was, however, the most dangerous place she had been sent to without any backup. If she got into a tight spot, she had no leeway for screw-ups.

And whose fault is that? Sand reprimanded herself. The truth was, her team would have helped her had she asked, but she had chosen against it. This was supposed to be the last mission she took at Atlas, and as such it felt fitting that she do it on her own. A sort of severing act.

Though now that I'm actually here, whatever I was trying to prove escapes me.

Alas, bravery and recklessness came hand in hand. Hunters were expected to overcome adversity, even when said adversity was created by themselves. Particularly then, she thought.

A piercing howl interrupted her musings. Her eyes narrowed on the looming structure as shadows began appearing on the fort's walls, their answering cries echoing throughout the ruins. Moments after the first howl, a faint tremor began to spread under her feet as a horde of Grimm set out towards the forest. Sand retreated from the opening and pressed herself against the wall, her body tensing as foot-stomps and snarling grew nearer, then faded away, over and over with each passing monster.

It did not take long for the main body of Grimm to pass by, the tremor fading with them. Sand let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding, then approached the window once more. The fortress still stood in the distance, as intimidating as ever. Now, however, a large group of its inhabitants had left.

It was almost too good to be true. If she was planning on infiltrating the building, she could not hope for a better opportunity.

Still, she hesitated. There were few things a Grimm would have reacted to in the manner she had just witnessed. She had a hard time picturing Grimm rushing out like that in response to a territorial scuffle with animals.

Grimm exist for the sole purpose of killing us.

People, then. Though whatever someone could be doing this far out into the wilderness she did not know.

Hunters out in a mission, like her? Perhaps. Was it safe to make that assumption? Could she assume whoever was out there could handle what was coming for them?

Can I afford not to? This will be my best chance. If I try to see what caused the commotion and it's nothing, it might might mean completely scrubbing the mission. Hunters are expected to carry out their objectives. Hunters are expected to overcome adversity. Hunters are expected…

The lone figure crept out of the watchtower and paused, staring in the direction of Outpost Jeager. Then turned and followed after the Grimm.


[System]
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation/Preference: Bisexual, with an inclination towards men.
Mental Illness/Disorder/Etcetera: Borderline Personality Disorder, Psychosis

Personality: To describe Ezra as abrasive would be the understatement of the century. Inwardly self-destructive and outwardly misanthropic, the people he talks to often find themselves put off by his hostility. He doesn't abide by the rules, he doesn't play fairly, and he certainly doesn't let anyone think they can get one up on him. Ezra considers himself the alpha dog in any situation he's in, but when faced with truly confident or successful people, he can become flustered and defensive, lashing out with increasingly nonsensical insults. Despite that, Ezra is a capable manipulator when he needs to be, and has a knack for controlling people to get what he wants.

He's very often obsessive about the things he does, the things he thinks about, and the people he chooses to follow. If he likes something, chances are he'll let you know it, and if he doesn't, well, he's never been shy about voicing his opinion in that matter as well. Try as he might, he's never really had the best poker face in the world, and it tends to give him away more than not. Ezra is hard to like, much less to love, but underneath the layers of barbed distrust and anger, lies a young man deeply frustrated by his condition.

Appearance: With a height of 5'7", weighing in at around 135 pounds, Ezra isn't exactly the most imposing of figures. It doesn't help that he never stands up straight, either. His posture is terrible; shoulders rolled forward, knees bent, hands inside his pockets. No matter how many hours of sleep he gets a night, it's always fitful, as evident by the dark circles under his watery, blue eyes. There is an unhealthy pallor to his skin, even more so than usual, after a year spent in Remmington. This, combined with his lanky, blonde hair, gives him an overall appearance that would be best described as "washed out". Unless he is fully comfortable in his surroundings, he is usually unsmiling. It's not difficult to notice the way he suspiciously eyes people, watching their every move like a caged animal.

History/Background Info.: Ezra grew up in Bethesda, Maryland, the youngest child to a wealthy businessman and his beautiful wife. The Pinkertons, as one of the primary shipping magnates in North America, were, and continue to be, one of the richest and most influential names from the continent. From the day he was born, Ezra had everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter. To outsiders, his life was enviable. But behind closed doors, things were quite different.

Ezra's parents were far too busy with work to deal with a child, and so tended to leave him and his siblings in the care of a nanny. This detachment between parent and child, perhaps, was why Ezra's unusual behaviour went undetected. People never seemed to like staying around Ezra for long; his carers had a curious habit of never lasting more than a month at a time - the frequency and intensity of his sometimes self-destructive tantrums driving them away from the Pinkerton estate. Shrugging it off as the unreliability of the working class, Ezra's parents turned a blind eye to these so-called "episodes". As far as they were concerned, there was nothing wrong with him - well, apart from being spoilt rotten, that is.

For years, the behaviour Ezra displayed was simply swept under the rug. After all, it simply wouldn't do to have the prestigious Pinkerton name sullied, would it? Still, it was only a matter of time until things came to a head. Slowly but surely, Ezra's psyche began to turn on him. As with all things, it started out small. Shadows lurking at the edge of his vision, the occasional whisper at the back of his mind. At first, he couldn't tell whether or not it was just his imagination - but these symptoms only worsened as time went by. Soon, Ezra began suffering from full-blown episodes of catatonia, and it was only then that his parents started to worry.

After multiple trips to the psychiatrist, it seemed like they had finally pinned down just what was wrong with Ezra. Diagnosed with BPD and Psychosis, he was sent home with nothing more than a bottle of mood stabilisers and antipsychotics. But then, barely a month later - that was when things spiralled out of control. The night before his eighteenth birthday, something in him snapped. Convinced that his entire family was out to get him, he retrieved a knife from the kitchen, fully intending to carve up everyone in the house before they could do anything to hurt him. Fortunately, however, Ezra's plans were stopped in his tracks when the knife was wrestled away from him by his first target - his father.

Despite their earlier reservations, Ezra's parents finally realised what they had to do. In a situation like this, seeking professional help would no doubt be the best course of action. Thus, after an extensive round of perusal and vetting, they finally settled on Remmington's Angels. Whether or not Mr. and Mrs. Pinkerton were aware of the rumours surrounding the facility is anyone's guess, but two things were for sure - it keeps their son out of the public eye, and their reputation spotless.

Favorites/Interests/Hobbies: Cigarettes. They're one of the only things that calm him down, but he finds it nigh impossible to get his hands on any in Remmington.

Other/Special: Ezra is terrified of dogs. Whilst he isn't going to run screaming when he sees a chihuahua or corgi, anything larger is enough to scare the living daylights out of him.

---

[User]
White.

All Ezra sees is white.

White walls, white floors, white uniforms. In that very moment, he couldn't think of a colour he hated more. This… maddening plainness symbolised everything that was wrong with the place. It was difficult, if not impossible to distinguish where one wall ended, and where another began, giving the impression of an infinite, white abyss. Growing up, Ezra always thought white was the colour of purity, wholeness - everything Remmington's was not, as anyone who took up residence here would realise. Things weren't so bad though, some days, especially when the orderlies left him to his thoughts, and the voices in his head quieted down. But the more he dwelled on the matter, the more he realised what a thinly-veiled lie it was.

He hated this place.

Ezra could barely remember how long he'd been here. A week? A month? A year? It all sounded wrong to him, even as they swirled around in the recesses of his mind. The drugs they pumped him full of did everything except their intended purpose, memories slipping from him like sand through his fingers. Sometimes, Ezra was convinced that it was all just a ploy to keep him docile; placid. After all, how could he plot an escape route when he could barely walk down the corridors without tripping over his own feet? But those thoughts never stayed with him for long, his mind drifting away to other ideas before he could tighten his grasp.

Plodding aimlessly along, Ezra's footsteps were muffled into silence by the linoleum floor. No one had come to bother him today, which was a first - though he couldn't say he was very happy about it either. Ezra had been jonesing for a cigarette ever since this morning, how was he going to get one with nobody around? Of course, he knew better than anyone that smoking was strictly prohibited for patients, but who was going to enforce such a rule when you could simply take advantage of it? Nothing came without a price, though it was one he was willing to pay to stave off withdrawal.

Before he could bump into an orderly, however, Ezra noticed someone out of the corner of his eye. Those wilful shocks of purple hair drew a stirring of recognition out from within him, although he couldn't quite put a name to the face just yet - all he knew was that it started with an 'A'.

"What'd they do to you?"

The words spilt forth from his lips before he could stop them, and he began to approach the girl as if on a tether. Ezra's movements were slow, unsure. It wasn't often that he made conversation with the others in Remmington's, preferring to keep to himself. So why was he starting now? The answer to that was question was unknown, even to him. But maybe, just maybe, this would be the first thing in this place to do him good.

[Assistant]
Alytra looked up upon hearing approaching footsteps, and a male's voice asking her a question, her trance broken. At least she assumed that it was her he was addressing, because no one else was close enough to have heard what he said. She looked up and knew that she had seen his face around, if only a few times, but couldn't guess his name for the life of her. She did notice his pretty eyes and the way that he held himself exerted an air of confidence, despite the feelings of utter paranoia that he must have been experiencing, if his emotions mirrored hers at all.

What haven't they done to me? she thought to herself, letting out an irritated huff of breath. "You know," she stared at him bitterly, "I'm not quite sure that I really know what all they did to me. They stuck another fucking I.V. into me, and then pumped me full of unidentifiable liquids. I'm sure it's just some sort of antidepressant." She wasn't sure at all, but after her stunt earlier she wasn't wanting to cause any more trouble for Remmington and her staff, and she planned to avoid Jason at all costs for the remainder of the evening. "To be honest, I'm not even sure how long I was back there... Do you have any idea?" she inquired of the young man, dazedly. Even in a haze, Alytra had to admit that he was a rather fine looking boy, especially for Remmington's, albeit a bit pale and lifeless-looking.

[User]
Before the girl could answer, Ezra had already moved to sit down, draping himself over his side of the couch like a long-limbed octopus. Much to his amusement, however, he found it quite the fitting metaphor for his current predicament. His legs almost felt like jelly; like he'd collapse and slump into a heap of nothing if he tried to stand up again. There was no joy in the quiet huff of laughter that escaped him next, but… beggars couldn't be choosers, he supposed. In a place like this, one had to be content with any scrap of levity they could find - even if the punchline happened to be at their own expense.

To the untrained eye, Ezra might've looked like he was off with the fairies, but he was paying full attention to his companion's ramblings. That was the thing about Remmington's, he never had any idea whether the other patients were just a figment of his imagination, or whether they were flesh and blood. Each of their individual experiences sounded so utterly relatable to Ezra that sometimes, he found himself convinced that the whole facility was simply a construct of his own overactive thalamus. He remembered the IV needle sliding under his skin, the drugs skittering across the surface of his brain, and he nodded in understanding. But when questioned by the girl on how long she'd been gone, Ezra found himself at a loss.

"...Beats me." His thoroughly unsatisfying answer came only after a long moment of contemplation, syllables slurring and stretching with a peculiar effortfulness. "I'm as out of it as you are, stranger. What's your name?"

[Assistant]
As she replied, Alytra eyed him speculatively. He just sat there, right next to her, plopped his entitled little ass down as if he'd been invited. She hissed internally and glared at him ever so slightly, pulling her knees to her chest and making sure to leave as much space as possible in between her and her surprise guest of the evening. She was pleased, however, to have the chance for conversation with someone else who was fairly normal - or, at least, what she would consider MORE normal than the typical patient or staff member around Remmington's. Also, Alytra was both taken aback and pleased by the fact that the boy seemed to truly understand what she was experiencing. She noticed that he looked a little wobbly, as well.

"Name's Alytra," she muttered, disappointed by the fact that he could shed no more light on her current situation than had already been shed, "And... You are?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow. Relief washed over her that she wasn't the only one to be at a loss when it came to names here. Alytra was distracted briefly as she saw Jason pass by the Lounge out of the corner of her eye, and she could have sworn that she saw him smile one of those menacing smiles... She quickly focused her attention back on the newcomer once he had passed, however, and waited patiently for his reply.