[System]
CS
Nicknames: None

Gender: Female

Age: 16

Physical description: With the skin of a Egyptian and the red hair of her Irish mother. Alysse has a heart shaped face, showing off soft features. Her stubbornness found in the green-grey eyes. Standing at five foot three inches, she's noticeably lean. Sturdy sandals, black jeans and a loose green t-shirt with sewn in lacey black sleeves falls off one shoulder. She wears her mother's family's two wedding bands on her left hand, and several talismans as necklaces. The talismans are written with runes for protection, safety, and good luck, and bout with black cords. With fingerless gloves, her nails bitten to the quick.

Personality: For all her quiet ways Alysse is quite bubbly and cheerful. But her loyalty to select few she will call 'close' is not something to question. Quick to jump to the defense or attack on that behalf, she becomes a storm of raging anger. This sudden change can be contributed to her father's own violent tendencies. If she can't be found learning some new craft the next best bet is some secluded spot practicing her weaponry and powers. She's very shy about being watched while she practices and finds comfort in doing it alone in her father's desert.

Likes: Learning different languages, listening to music, cats, reading, and dancing.

Dislikes: The sea, those who attack the weak and helpless, and traitors.

Bio: Her mother never told her about her father, but never looked at another man after Alysse was born. They lived a happy, if mediocre, life in the small Irish fishing village by the sea. Her mother was as cheerful as Alysse. But when Moira went out onto the ocean to help the fishers that one fateful time. The ship sank in a storm leaving Alysse alone in the world at ten. Her mother's close friend took her in for time, the school and community keeping a 'don't ask, don't tell' on the whole arrangement. When Child Services did come to collect Alysse she was twelve and unwilling to leave. Running off she evaded the coppers thanks to storm. It was then Set interfered, albeit giving the poor child a fright.

Godly parent name: Set

God description: Egyptian god of storms, desert, violence, and foreigners.

Opinion of godly parent: Alysse is close to the Egyptain god, and the feeling is returned. She is closely protected by the god. Fearing her father's powers, she over came it with time. Though she still is wary of his wrathful ways towards others. He taught her weaponry and fighting, and how to use her powers.

Mortal parent name: Moira O'Neil

Opinion of mortal parent: Her mother was the goodness in Alysse life before she died. Still Alysse adores her and misses her terribly. Moira was a Wiccan, teaching her daughter the ways of her craft. Before she died, she sold herbal medicines and teas to their neighbors.

Powers: She is a fierce fighter. Learning the Khopesh, spear and bow. She can control the sand of the desert, and storms, to a degree. However it takes a lot out of her to control the storms. She can pick up languages quickly.

[User] Alysse shivered as the fighting started. Her eyes looked over at the scene as she slowly stood to her full, yet not so intimidating, height of three inches past five feet. "You must practice on others, trying your hand against the same opponent will waste your potential." Set's words wound about her mind. He was right, Alysee knew as she walked to fix this problem. One of the students did not have a partner, walking towards them with a smile she stretched out her hand. Sand beckoning her call came to her like a river, forming a Khopesh. The student jabbed at her as she stepped aside it with fluidity swinging her blade up in a series of rapid strikes. The poor lad yelped and fell back under the onslaught, his sword barley halting the wicked blade. His attempts at attack only made her move to the side, but onwards still she came. Thwacking the lads wrist with the back of the khopesh, the neck of her sword striking his and knocking it away. Leveling the sword under the other demi's throat, Alysse held the position. "Don't ever let go of your sword. Drop you weapon on the battle field and you will die." She growls, remembering all too well her Father's words on the matter. The flung sword knocking over the weapon rack with a crash to end it's flight.

[Assistant] Alex raised one hand to Katie 'Hold on one moment' he said looking at the figure who had just attacked one of his pupils. 'Excuse me miss, but might I inquire as to what you're doing?' he pointed to the weapon wrack. 'I enjoy a good fight as much as the next demi, but I think that was a bit much and I'd ask you not to raise a real weapon against a youth armed with nothing but a dummy sword'. Alexander wasn't as cross as he sounded, he was cross, he didn't like it when people interrupted his lessons, but he was more curious about the figure than anything. He noted the Khopesh in the figures hand, the weapon was small and relatively unwieldy, the Khopesh as a weapon whilst elegant was rather cumbersome and limited in its versatility. He made a quick assessment of the weapon and the wielder before swinging his glaive around him in a defensive motion.

[User] The teen blinked, as if remembering herself. "Ah, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to intrude. He had no partner and I thought I'd help-." Dark cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, the khopesh still light in her hand as she moves the sword to her side. "Didn't mean to get so carried away!" Alysse's Irish accent was heavy in her distress as she stammered apologies. "Oh dear..." She blinked, trying to find something to look at that wasn't terrifyingly embarrassing. Spotting the weapon rack she stabbed her sword next to it, righting the falling equipment. The khopesh dissolving to sand with the break in her will and concentration to fight. "Oh deary, dear." What had she been thinking! Getting into a senseless fight like that! Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Oh, she was going to find a nice lonely place after this and stay there! It would more peaceful and less horrifying!

[Assistant]
Alex saw the embarrassment he'd caused the girl dispelling his weapon, he turned to the few students who'd stopped to watch. 'Well, come now, did I say stop?' he said to them in even tones 'How do you expect to be good fighters if you keep stopping?' the students returned to their drill without a word, knowing better than to push Alex.

Alex turned back to the girl walking over to the weapon wrack that she was wrestling with, he saw the sword she'd been wielding dissolve back into sand and heard her stammering some more apologies. 'You needn't worry' he began 'You've got quite the technique I must say, few people are able to make good use of a weapon like a Khopesh. In future however maybe ask to join the class before launching in with such enthusiasm?' he offered her his hand, his smile returning as he realised the humour in the incident. 'My name is Alexander Orolos, son of Nemesis, I think we got off on the wrong foot, might I ask what is your name?'

[User] She brushed the thick locks of hair back, shyly. Taking his hand she gives it a firm shake. "Alysse O'Neil, daughter of Set." Alysse fumbles slightly. "I- um... Don't usually do that, but... I can be a tad eccentric at times?" She offered lamely. "Alexander? You are the one they call the Judge?" Her eyes regard him openly. She had heard name here and there. Anubis had spoken of it in passing to Set once when she had been training with the elder God. How curious this one was a Greek through and through. "You wield a glaive? A odd choice for a Greek."

[Assistant]
'Pleasure to meet you Alysse' Alex bowed ever so slightly as he concluded introductions as his father had taught him to. 'I wouldn't worry about being eccentric around here, on the contrary if one weren't an eccentric I think they'd have more to worry about. As for my nickname yes some people call me Judge, being a son of the goddess of retribution will earn you monikers like that. The same goes for the weapon, one of my powers' he paused taking a step back before continuing 'I can manifest and master any weapon, armour or piece of tactical equipment you care to mention'.

To illustrate his point Alex re-summoned the glaive, re-shapped it into halberd, then an axe, a mace, and finally a gladius. He sheathed the short sword at his side using a belt and scabbard that he manifested for the blade at waist height.

It was then he remembered he had a match with Katie, he blushed the same as Alysse had turning to join the match in earnest, re-summoning the glaive as he walked. There you go getting distracted again Alex he thought to himself, he stopped and turned back to Alysse 'Care to join me and Katie in a bit of sparring practice?'

[User] Shifting from foot to foot slightly. "If you would not mind? My Father is insistent I practice against others." Alysse notes following him, her past transgression being seemingly forgotten, save for her flaming cheeks. An odd colour against her tanned skin. "A useful ability." She agrees to his explanation of wielding a glaive, though she lacked to tell him of her own abilities. It was not really like he needed to know, plus she didn't like to show off. Her skill with a sword was one factor she didn't mind. Sparring was required, and that meant doing it with people.

[Assistant]
Katie watched Alex and Alysse with interest, noting Alex showing off his abilities. She was still a little uncomfortable with her own demigod powers, not having shown them in public yet. Turning to Alex, she said, "I'd rather work with you one-on-one, if that's alright."

"Well, if you want to practice, how about with Vanessa and I?" Madison quipped. A strand of hair fell in her face, but she brushed it aside. "We're not very good, either of us, but we're more than willing to learn. If you feel like teaching, that is." At least if Vanessa joined in, Madison would have someone else just as inexperienced as her. It would be a help to her confidence to see another person learning alongside her.

[User]
'Well how about we play winners, Katie? So I shall spar with you, then Madison and Alysse will do the same, then winners will spar, and Vanessa can spar each of the losers and so on'

With that Alex bowed resummoning his glaive ready to fight Katie, settling into a guard stance.

[Assistant] Alysse inclined her head with agreement. "I see little to deter such." Hearing the other's refusal, her mind scrambled for a bit. When Alex spoke up his idea was not a bad one. Giving a small wave to the other two. Alysse stretched out her hand, the sand swirling to form a khopesh once more. "Alysse O'Neil." She greeted them shyly, fingering one of the many amulets about her neck. Her Irish dialect was so very hard to get over when meeting new people, she sighed. At least with the Egyptians it smoothed out slightly. Giving a small smile at Madison she gestured to the weapon rack. "Pick one you like, if it looks pretty it won't do it's job." Her voice light and teasing, repeating words the Egyptian God had said to her. It still felt odd for her to find comfort in such a thing.

[User]
Don't let him make the first move. Katie hadn't had much training in swordfighting yet, but she knew the basics. She aimed a hard thrust at Alex's shoulder, angling the blade ever so slightly to make it harder to block. Thankfully these were only training blades, so they wouldn't do too much damage, even if she connected.

"I'm Madison. Nice to meet you, Alysse." She went over to the weapon rack, picking up an iron shortsword in the Spartan style. She might never have held a weapon before, but it was something she had at least seen. She settled into an awkward defensive stance, belying her total inexperience at this sort of thing.

[Assistant] Walking forward she stabs the weapon into the ground, moving slowly so Madison won't attack. Adjusting the younger's grip and correcting her stance she nods, picking up her sword. "High, middle low." She shows Madison the basic moves and blocks. The khopesh awkward for the short sword attack pattern. "Stick with those and add in more once you have the basics." The Egyptian demi advises softly. "With a shield it's different but... Oh, dear. I'm rambling again, I'm sorry." She adjusts her grip on the khopesh and does a strike towards Madison's middle, keeping the blade moving at a decent speed but able to pull or veer away if she needed too. The blade was purely heavy sand, like getting hit with a stick and hardly fatal.

[User] Alex nimbly dodges Katie's attack the blade slicing through the air where he had been. He swung the lower end of his glaive low hitting Katie in the shins, 'Careful' he cautioned 'You need to be watching all the avenues of attack especially against someone with more reach. Try getting in close that'd make things easier for you'.

[Assistant]
"Ow!" Katie was unable to recover in time to block the blow. "I'll remember that." She nodded as Alex gave her another tip. "Thank you." She settled in and made another quick rush, but this time, she created a small gust of wind as well, hoping to throw Alex's balance off slightly.

Madison took her time as Alysse explained the basics. She took her position again, but this time in a somewhat more orthodox position. As Alysse came in for a chest strike, she moved her sword down to block. She wasn't quite fast enough to completely stop the attack, but she did divert it and turn it into only a glancing hit.


[System]
"I'm still alive, and I can still fight. Shouldn't that be all that matters, at this point?"
-PILOT-
(obviously not as naked as this)
Age: 15

Personality: Lora is unique for having a sort of deadpan confidence, seeming be reserved on the outside but in reality being very empowered and sure of her capability. Of course, she's not headstrong, either, and in fact proves to be rather patient. Off the field, she performs small efforts and tasks in hopes to play a little more than her part. The most emotion she can be noted showing is largely in combat, as if she has some deep-seated feelings regarding the Cruxi (and boy, does she).

Motives: Repel the Cruxi and ensure a better future.

Background:
People who say Lora went through hell don't realize that good people shouldn't go to hell.

The young Lora grew on a colony somewhat on the farther reaches of human society. Her family was one of the most esteemed on that world, and not because they had luxury. No, it was because they shared their luxury, working to create and distributor new technologies to benefit the people and ensure what happened to Earth would not so easily repeat itself. Lora was exposed to this and more, and so learned the better qualities of life and what they meant.

To say it all changed when the Cruxi appeared seemed cliche and inaccurate. Within 24 hours, it all disappeared - homes, families and lives alike. A still-young Lora and her younger brother were one of the few that managed to make it, of the single escape ship that managed to survive the ordeal. She wished she could stop crying, that after she cried all her tears, her voice went hoarse, and her heart ached the worst, it would stop. But the pain never stopped.

Lora practically begged to be enlisted in the project to weaponize Framewerks. She wanted so many things, but the only ones she could hope to get were revenge, and hope itself. She would gladly learn to take life if it meant no more had to suffer like she did. She would become stronger, far stronger than she was on that day of defeat, as strong as she needed to be to take down the enemy. And even if she died doing it, Lora was going to bring peace and happiness back to every last human who deserved it.

Notable Deaths: Pretty much anyone she was related to by blood, except her brother. A couple of her close friends also didn't make it.

Other Things: People think that Lora doesn't show her emotions because she is very scarred inside. While they are partly right, she also represses her emotion to ensure she can remain stable during Framewerk combat. It works for the most part, but there are times where she can get a little loose.

-FRAMEWERK-
Code Name: Caliburn

Primary Weapons System:
 The right arm is equipped with an X-02 Lightstriker, a particle cannon with a trio of edged prongs circling the barrel. The weapon accelerates a payload of Tau particles while charging up to one million volts of energy along the prongs, before the whole blast is released in a high-impact bolt.
 The Lightstriker has a great yield with adept stopping power, but is slow to fire and has difficulty piercing through armor. When you're given the ample time to charge the cannon to full capacity, however, that shot is guaranteed to put at least a smoldering crater in most any physical armor imaginable.
 In the event of a close-range hazard, the weapon's prongs are reinforced to act as an emergency melee weapon. Prolonged use is ill-advised, as damage may dramatically hamper the Lightstriker's stability and risk further damage if fired.

Secondary Weapons Systems:
 Equipped on each shoulder blade is a paired GAU-19 heavy rotary cannon and a TOR-VN railgun system. In the event a pilot wants a quicker, more traditional method of dishing out damage, they will switch primary weapons control to this weapons array. It is then armed by flipping them over onto a set of shoulder mounts, a relatively brief process provided there is ample room for it.
 The chainguns and railguns are fired in their respective pairs, the former more rapid and culling while the latter heavier and more accurate; however, both take a bit of time to wind up before they can effectively fire, however less so than the Lightstriker. For safety reasons, the Lightstriker is powered down (even though at that time it cannot be directly controlled anyway) and the upper range of movement for the arms is locked down.

 Also equipped is a pair of infantry-grade missile launchers on the collarbone in front of the shoulder, and a reinforced shield unit on the left arm. Both are designed to be used independently of the major weapons systems - the shield unit especially is designed to withstand most heavier blows, while reinforcing the right arm enough to enable a fair medium of punching and bashing.

Frame Armor Type: Medium-Heavy ; designed to be a powerful weapons platform with a minor in tanking.
Solid Synchro Rate: 100% [MAX!!!]
Special Ability: -CLASSIFIED-

[User]
After the current class session had ended, Koehler had talked to Lorenzo about his business. During this, one other had waited. Patiently waiting her turn to speak.

And when Koehler did leave, Mai approached Lorenzo. She didn't say anything though...from her position, she then took a long look at the holograms that were last displayed.

She then walked over to the hologram of the Cruxi that Lorenzo metioned were at the "ruling castle".

"...sir. I'm assuming you showed THIS particular picture for a reason in my case. If so...yes, this is the Cruxi I saw two months ago in that "vision"...but not the one I saw...the one I saw was real. It moved slightly...looked liked I was actually seeing it...and it "tried" to talk but failed miserably as I said...growls and grunts like no animal I've ever heard..."

Mai moved slightly to a different position to look at the hologram at a different angle.

"...thing is, I know the "reports" on Mari...I mean of my mother sir. The visions tended to be vague or ambiguous. It simply "showed" that something was going to happen but sometimes not always enough to pinpoint exactly what. For all I know...the vision could be telling me a number of things...but two things do come to mind. Best case: I or others were watching some live broadcast of a Cruxi delivering a message of some sort..."

During all this, Mai was talking normal. She did talk like a "drone" or even "monotone" like a robot but ever since she had come clean with Lorenzo and Ritsu about her possible ability, she had decided to act at least a bit "normal" in front of them.

And after Lorenzo and Ritsu had responded to it afterwards, she had found herself unable to hold that grudge on her mother afterwards...hence why she had called her "mother" rather than Maria "Angel" Twilight.

But her voice went back to monotone when she said the second opinion.

"...worse case: myself or someone else could be talking to that Cruxi...perhaps a private meeting or as a P.O.W..."

[Assistant]
In the weeks following the training exercise, Krista had buried herself in her new role as Squad Leader. Between the training they all had to do and her own studies on being a leader she hadn't much time to socialize with the others. The constant reminder of her responsibilities she bore on her shoulders didn't help break the ice either. Then there was the incident between Yeshua and Kohler. She hadn't seen it personally but from what she had heard about it it was pretty gruesome. They both seemed... off ever since.

At the most recent of the Professor's lectures, a question struck her from earlier. After letting the others ask their questions before approaching. "Sir, I have a question about something you brought up earlier. About the difficulties in capturing a Cruxi unit intact."

Lorenzo looked over from his bundle of research notes. "Yes, Officer Reynolds, what is it?"

"You mentioned a while back that certain units would retreat by teleporting. I was wondering if they ever use this offensively?" she said.

The professor stroked his beard when he listened to the question. "Hmm, that is an interesting thought. It wouldn't take them much to adjust what they're already using to materialize weapons or use it some other way. However, considering how recently they started using this technology in this war, I believe even they themselves do not understand the full capability of what they have discovered. Like us, I believe they are also inventing new weapons to overcome us in the arms race. Still, it would be easy to teleport bombs into colonies, yet they haven't done so...most intriguing..." Lorenzo mumbled, deep in thought.

Krista shuddered at the thought of a bomb appearing in her lap without warning. "Do you think it might operate on some sort of homing beacon? Like it can only recall units, not deploy them."

"A plausible theory, Reynolds. Of course, as long as we don't understand how the mechanics related to the phenomenon exactly work we can only guess. But if we were to acquire this technology...oh, it would revolutionize human society. Such an ingenious race to turn it into a mere weapon of war...there is no greater disappointment for a scientist."

Krista sighed. "Too bad learning about them requires being shot at..." she said, "You said that the decision to try and capture one would be at the Squad Officer's choice. Do we have anything that might help take one intact?"

"Why yes, that is correct. Let's see..." Lorenzo scrambled over his papers until he found one. "If we take the concept of the immobilization mine and turn it into an attached weapons system, and a brave pilot would close the distance and apply the freezing agent onto an enemy unit, covering it up...add in the electrifying solution with EMP-generators...Yes! If my hypothesis is correct, that should prevent the unit from self-destructing! But it would have to be applied at extremely close range, and without the unit's weapon systems being hindered. An extremely dangerous situation for any Framewerk pilot. But if one were to succeed, oh, I would get an entire Cruxi mech all for myself, heh heh!" Lorenzo devilishly grinned at the prospect.

Krista put that in the back of her mind as something that might be worth trying later, once the rest of the squad had seen action. "That would be nice. Know your enemy and all that. Going back to the teleportation thing. I was wondering if we knew where they went. Seems like it would be simple enough to tag them with a tracker of some sort."

"Why yes, it would be...if any of the Framewerks who attempted that ever survived. The teleportation function seems to only be reserved for the most advanced models of war machine the Cruxi utilize, and any attempts to place trackers on them only resulted in the poor pilot being shredded or annihilated. They are really defensive about their precious toys, those damn clickers..."

"Ugh... should've realized it wouldn't be easy," she lamented, "Thanks for answering my questions sir. I'll let you get back to what you were doing." She turned around before stopping and facing Lorenzo again. "Actually, one more thing, when do you think we'll have a prototype of that Cruxi-immobilzation weapon?"

"I'll start working on it now, so if my calculations are complete...it should enter production stage in a month or so. If there aren't any malfunctions present, of course." Lorenzo then went back to his pile of papers and looked at them with renewed interest and stamina, as if his brain was running with more gears than usual.


[System]
Age: 16 (going on 17)
Personality: She's tough, mean (especially to Slicks), stubborn, and ruthless. But, that's just on the outside. On the inside she's just a big softy who would rather do things in a non violent way. She also cares very deeply about her looks. If her hair isn't perfect she won't go out anywhere. (Curly hair is hard to deal with)

Bio: She was born to a rich family. She has 7 older brothers (and one lazy cat), her being the youngest. All of them give her a tough time for being the youngest. But they all still love her the same. She gets into trouble very often, so they all decided to teach her how to fight. Or at least enough to defend herself.

Ever since she was little, she was treated more like a boy than a girl. Dressing up in pants than skirts, wearing her brothers' hand-me downs, hanging out with guys instead of girls, etc. Even though she was raised around tough brothers, her softer side is full of love for music.

Her dream was to become a pianist. Her parents refused to let her play piano. They wanted her to work in the family business. (A chain of diners throughout the state) She had used her allowance to sneak off and hire a tutor to teach her late at night. Her brothers do quite a good job of keeping cover for her.

Her brothers names (from oldest to youngest):
Lenny
Charlie
Antonio
Oliver
Andy
Jacob
Wilson

Her personality says slick, but she's really a royal.

[User]
Corrine blushed and covered her beet red face. "R-Rolo! You can't do that, what if someone sees?!" Corrine cried out. Luckily, no one was around them, but she swore to keep their love a secret. At least from her brothers. Though she would be lying if she said she didn't like a little public display of affection every once in awhile.

"B-but uh... let's work on that name, ok?" she stuttered, still blushing.

[Assistant]
Charles wandered around the area of Lovers Haven with his faithful bloodhound Lucius in tow. The lean and stout hound sniffed the ground diligently for any interesting and unusual scents. A gift from his father for his twelfth birthday, Lucius was one of the few possessions that Charles treasured. A strong and intelligent animal with a regal bearing, it possessed the qualities that Charles admired the most. Like most loving pet owners, Charles felt more of attachment to his loyal bloodhound than any person he knew. For those who knew Charles the most, it was obvious that the reason behind the attachment to his bloodhound was more than just its "regal bearing".

The clearing itself was a lot less spooky during the day, but no less beautiful. The rocky monolith of Ghost Rock itself did not glow in the light of the sun, though it was majestic all the same. Admittedly though it was getting quite hot in the early afternoon sun. Charles wished not to spend any more time there than was absolutely necessary. He wasn't exactly the camping type. It was either first class or nothing.

All of a sudden, Lucius began to bark excitedly. He then pulled on the black leather leash that was bound to his red collar. Lucius pulled Charles along on the trail of the scent.

"What is it boy!? Charles asked his pet.

Lucius led Charles away from the monolith of Ghost Rock and into one of the surrounding thicket of trees to the north of the area. The trees were extra thick around this area, making it a tad bit inconvenient to traverse. It was a few meters in that a very small clearing was found in which stood quite a stunted tree. The diligent hound walk towards that tree amidst the thicket then pawed at the base of it. The pawing then became a dig. A few moments later Lucius unearthed something rather interesting. Such a find brought a mischievous smile to Charles' face.

"Good boy! Who's a good boy!" praised Charles whilst he patted Lucius lovingly.

Charles then lifted the camera that hung from a strap around his neck. He took as many pictures as he felt he needed to. Those Salt Bay bozos were way too easy to manipulate, it seemed. The ease of which almost negated the fun of it all, well, almost.

[User]
Antonio took a deep breath of fresh air and breathed out. The only time he felt less stressed was when he was alone. Or at least alone in the junk yard. Antonio sat on a pile of old mattresses, contemplating about his life and were to go from here.

He had never really thought about his future. When he was in The Dragons, he thought he would die before finishing highschool. The awful fights the dragons had gotten into killed most of his friends and people he cared about. Once he moved away, he somewhat lost his purpose in life. He missed belonging to a gang. A tough one at that. He needed to find someone to hang with.

He sat up and stretched, scratching his back and trying to get his mind into something happier.

"Think, Antonio, think..." before he could come up with anything, he heard a couple voices coming towards him. What were they doing on his turf?!

"Yeah, I know, it's crazy right? Something is up and I wanna find out." One called out.

"Is that why everyone is acting weird? I just thought it was a full moon until their behavior continued."

"HEY!" Antonio yelled. "What are you doing here?! This is my turf! Buzz off!" Anotio picked up a metal pole and pointed it at the two bystanders. The boys put their hands up in fear.

"Hey, hey, hey! Chill out dude we mean you no harm! But, could I ask what you're doing here alone?" The one with the green eyes asked.

Antonio puts down his pole and tosses it aside. "Well, uh, I've been thinking about joining a gang or making my own. Just like old times before I moved. What's it to ya?"

"Joining a gang, huh? That's new..." The boy with brown hair rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, dude. Maybe he can join us? He seems super tough." The two boys take a few steps back, whispering to eachother. They come back smiling.

"Ok, you can join us. Welcome to the Slicks, Antonio. Tomorrow night, meet us here at the junkyard, ok?" The boys wave and take their leave, disappearing behind the garbage.

Antonio didn't quite know how to feel. On one hand, he finally gets to join a gang! His life is back on track! But he couldn't tell if this was a trap or if the strange boys were serious. The only way he would find out was to come back tomorrow night.

[Assistant]
"Drop down and give me twenty! You worthless maggot!" yelled Chets father.

"Sir yes sir!" Chet yelled in response.

It was yet another daily drill. Everyday, at the crack of dawn, Chet was ordered to wake up and run twenty miles before breakfast. His father always followed him like a crazed stalker during these runs. This was to ensure that Chet neither snuck off nor slacked off, not even for a second. And if that wasn't bad enough, there was the dreaded battery of drills at the end of his run. It starts off with fifty push-ups followed by a hundred crunches and two hundred burpies then finally, fifty chin-ups. Such a grueling daily morning regimen was hell on Chet but there was no other choice but to obey. For you see, Chets father was a gruff and stern military man of a respectable rank. A true American hardass, he took no sass from anybody and demanded the very best at all times. Of course there were instances when Chet tried to rebel, many in fact. The thing was though, that Chets father, despite his age, was still a very fit and strong man himself. His years in the military have drilled into him the finer points of hand-to-hand combat. And so if Chet ever acted up, his father would put him into a headlock then force him to do twenty push-ups. Which is exactly what happened.

"What is your major malfunction soldier!" yelled Chets father.

"Being a stupid kid! Growing up and uhh stuff sir!" Chet yelled back back.

"You think I was born yesterday you worthless maggot!? Drop down and give me another twenty!"

"Sir yes sir!"

And so right as Chet finished his twenty push-up penalty, he was forced to do yet another twenty. Chet was beyond agonized by such a request yet he dare not let it show on his face, lest he incurred even more wrath than he already has. His arms, shoulders, and chest burned and strained to their limits just when he reached his fifth rep. Half-way trough his sixth rep, Chet collapsed onto his families front lawn. He panted heavily as large globs of sweat ran down into his eyes from his hair. This was too much, Chet thought to himself. This crazy old man is trying to kill me.

"Get back up you candy ass piece of trash! And give me my twenty!" yelled Chets father.

"Yes sir." answered Chat in a defeated tone.

"What was that you piece of crap!?" demanded Chets father.

"I said sir yes sir!" yelled Chet, much more loudly this time around.

"That's better! I'm going to make you into a fine soldier yet! No more prancing around with those homosexual little boyfriends of yours! Come hell or high water, I'm going to turn you into a real man!" declared Chets father.

"Yes colonel, thank you colonel!" yelled Chet at the end of his tenth rep.

Yeah right, Chet thought bitterly to himself. If he kept this insanity up any longer, he wouldn't live long enough to be a man, let alone a so-called "real man". It was the colonels plan for Chet to join the military as soon as he finished high school. Such a plan though, didn't suit Chat at all. He was a rebel and a leader at heart. What he needed was to be free to choose his own destiny, or so believed. But until he graduated high school, he decided that he just had to endure the old mans insanity. By then he would hopefully have enough money to move out of town and open a garage in LA. If all went to plan that was.

And so Chet struggled to finish his new set of twenty push-ups, though he got there in the end. Chet was then promptly dismissed so he could get himself some breakfast and get ready for school. He knew not how nor why but for some reason, Chet felt more determined than he ever felt before.


[System]
* Age: 18
* Gender: Female
* Race: Human
* Class: Paladin(in terms of being a holy knight)
* Appearance: Armor!(Tanya is 4'9), Casual Clothes!, Colors!
* Personality: Tanya is a sarcastic and short-tempered individual. She has nothing but scathing comments for people she dislikes, or people she sees as stupid. Tanya is quick to be irritated and quick to respond to her irritation, sometimes violently. At least when it's violently it's not bad enough to result in any serious injury. She has a sarcastic response to many, many things. Tanya also dislikes that she is rather small, at least to some extent, and has feelings of jealousy towards those who are not so small. In spite of her temper and sarcastic attitude, Tanya firmly believes in protecting those who need it and upholding the law. She seeks to punish all those who do evil to the fullest extent(at least if they are deserving of such treatment). She also has a deep dislike for undead, given that much of her duty is to eliminate dangerous undead. However, she will not harm them unless they give her reason to(or if they're mindless monsters). As a Reonite Paladin, she is deeply devoted to her chosen goddess and, and is also deeply anti-slavery.
* Brief Backstory: Born to the Palayen family, nobility living in the richest quarter of Meridan, Tanya was encouraged from a very young age to become part of the Church of Reon's more active service. The idea of serving their Goddess enticed her to no end. As such, Tanya Tanya became a Paladin of the sun goddess, sworn to combat evil in her name. Aside from that, she was educated at the "St. Lilianna's Reonite School for Girls", a religious school for girls created by the Church of Reon. She also underwent combat training under other paladins serving Reon.
* Equipment: Tanya wears a suit of heavy armor to protect herself. However, the armor is enchanted to feel exceptionally light, allowing her to move quite quickly. Similarly, her bastard sword, Repharion, is also subjected to enchantments that enhance her strength enough to wield it while holding the sword. Repharion is kept very sharp, and ignites with the Divine Solar Flame of Reon in response to the righteous fury of its wielder. This is chiefly intended for use against undead, but it's hard to deny the effectiveness against just about anything.
* Abilities: Tanya is a skilled combatant, excelling in both two-handed and one-handed swordplay, though her favored style is two-handed. However, due to the enchantments on her armor and weapons which renders them far lighter than they should be, her physical strength is actually rather lacking, and instead she is more of a speedy fighter who nevertheless hits hard due to her training and choice of weaponry.

[User]
White Mage Benita Bernarda

Benita's ears twitched as she heard the others talk about smashing a hole in the walls. As wonderful as that idea sounded, she cautiously took a few steps backward, standing right at the back of the party. And when the mage implied she was going to blast it with a spell, she considered just turning tail and running. After all, there was no honour in being squished by falling ruins.

"Well, at least they'll be someone to heal you idiots once this is over," she mumbled to herself, her wand already in hand as she awaited the inevitable. It was the burden of the healer, really, to patch up their companions after they did something kind of dumb. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that so soon, but...

[Assistant]
"... Did you think I didn't consider the state the tower's in?" Tanya replied, her tone short, one eyebrow cocked as she folded her arms. This was already going to be aggravating, wasn't it? It truly, truly was. Throwing someone up to the tower seemed dangerous to her, though she supposed if someone felt they were capable of such a thing it wasn't the most awful idea... if they could actually bypass the traps at the door, at least, and let everyone inside. Given that hadn't happened yet it seemed unlikely. That being said, the best option in the tiny purple-haired paladin's mind was checking for an alternate route created by the tower's fall to ruin. A hole of some sort, perhaps.

It was around then that she noticed one of the party's two offensive magi casting a spell, presumably in a bid to blow the tower down. The girl's eyes widened and she quickly sprinted over to the fire mage, grabbing her shoulder and yanking her back. "What are you doing, you idiot?! Does that tower look stable to you?! Do you think that's a good idea?! What kind of a moron does that sort of thing?!"

The healer was already wisely backing away...

At least the big guy with the swords had a better idea... this was ridiculous!

Speaking of which, a few bricks seemed rather ominously teetering. The tower was now in a state where it could take outside influence to a certain extent, but active attempts to destabilize it were... risky, at best. Still, if done slowly and carefully, a hole could be made in the side of the tower manually.

The elf and the half-giant's search had also proven fruitful. There was a hole, large enough to fit each member of the party provided they went in one at a time, on the back side of the tower. However, it was far too dark to tell what they would be dropping into, and an unpleasant, musty, rotten scent welled up from the darkness.

At this point, the choice was between making a path, which would take longer but allow them to determine where they entered, or attempt to figure out where the already-present hole would lead them.

[User]
"Oro?" Al yanked his blade from the wall. His boss had started nagging half the group, and disappeared around back. She was a member of the church, so maybe she was getting onto them to go smite some zombies she'd found or go pray or something. With this in mind, Al shouldered his blade and followed the pint-sized paladin around back. Fortunately, some previous group of adventurers had already mined a hole. It smelled like rotting meat, and considering the tower's reputation for being a haven for undead, even Al could guess what lay inside. However, it was too dark to see if there was a spike trap at the bottom.

"Hang on." Al said, tying his lantern to his waist. He lit the item, which would illuminate an area around him once he got inside. Next, he lit the torch, then dropped it inside. Since it was alight, it would be easy to test depth, and would also reveal whatever lay at the bottom.

[Assistant]
Segi evaluated his party. The way the approached the situation really was very telling. From the hot headed mage eager to blow the entire tower down and the more practical ones setting to making a hole in a much more careful manner, he learned much about who to watch in their party. Of course their hot-headed leader also had some telling behavior- she stood back, managing, observing, criticizing. A leader, but not a very effective one? Not one to take action? Perhaps too soon to be said, but one thing was clear: She was quick to anger. It was all valuable information to the Inquisitor.

He shot a pointed glance at the mage. "That is not wise." The Paladin had already stepped in to intervene, "Miss Palayen is correct, although I wouldn't put it in such crude terms. You risk bringing the structure down, which would prove to be quite the obstruction."

As for the task at hand his own investigation had proved fruitful: As he tested the stones he found they had some give. A hole could certainly be made. His party also found a hole of their own, Segi observed as he wheeled around the tower to join the group. He peered in. It smelled of death. Not a good sign. He turned away before the warrior tossed in the torch. "I would not recommend this path. It stinks of undead. If I may venture, I noticed some of the stones were loose. It would be wiser to make a hole for ourselves, we just have to be careful, elsewise the tower may be destabilized."

[User]
Olivie was standing by the hole when other group members started to coalesce around them. One had a good idea--testing the depth of the entrance--but the bearded man seemed to think that they were better off digging a new hole in the wall rather than fighting any possible undead. Given that they were a group largely composed of warriors with a few spellcasters, the chance anyone would know enough architecture to not bring the tower down on their heads was minimal.

"With all respect, sir, I believe that another entrance would merely delay contact with our foes, as we have no map with which to navigate," the half-giant stated, watching the torch's fall--then dropping down if the fall was harmless to her. In the event the drop was rather too large for anyone else, she could help bridge the gap.

[Assistant]
A small smile crept up Vendrael's face as he found the hole. His intuition had been right, it seemed; no way any structure could last so long without wear. On the other hand, the smell of decay and death wasn't exactly pleasant; no, rather, it was abhorrent and something he'd rather not have to smell again in his life after they concluded their mission here.

The rest of the party soon began to congregate around the hole he and the other person (a half-giant, if he had heard correctly) had found, beginning almost immediately in evaluating their possible options. As the the group began to start discussion, however, he saw the swordsman from earlier come by. It'd have been a lie to say that he didn't have a few sweatdrops forming at that moment.

Imagine his surprise, then, when his compatriot did something incredibly smart: to drop a lit torch down the well to check both the distance and to catch a glimpse of anything lying in wait. The thought had never crossed his mind, so the high elf decided to give some mental praise to the man; he wasn't as brutish as his appearance seemed to suggest.

"I'll follow whichever route is deemed safest; be it a new hole or this one," he stated. There was no obligation for him to rush or anything of the sort; the tower stood here long before they came, and it wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon.

[User]
Peri yelped a bit as she was grabbed, sending her fireball spiralling off into the sky where it detonated relatively harmlessly. Maybe people's ears'd be ringing for a bit, but it wasn't going to bring the house down on them.

"All right, all right, I get it. We're takin' the slow path." She grumbled, before muttering something about how it looked stable enough to her under her breath.

"And besides, if there's already a hole then I say we use that rather than waiting for someone to tear down this wall."

[Assistant]
Haruka followed after the part of the group that seemed to have discovered something around the back of the tower, and watched with curiosity as the big guy lit his lantern and then dropped a torch into the hole that they had found. She kind of wanted to break something, but judging by the group's general demeanor, they were probably going to go down the hole that already existed.

Haruka resolved to break something later.

"It is very good idea, big guy," Haruka said, smiling up at Al, "with fire we can be seeing into the smelly hole before falling."

Her tail wagged eagerly as she looked down into the hole to see what awaited the group at the bottom, if anything, and to gauge the distance of the drop. Not that a long fall was particularly frightening to Haruka. In fact, even if it was, she would probably be able to handle it quite well.

[User]
White Mage Benita Bernarda
For a moment, Benita stayed at the back of the group, her nose wrinkling in disgust. To a human, the stench of undead was rather unpleasant, but to a Hundi? Her sense of smell was far more powerful, but at least it wasn't too overpowering whilst she stood outside... Unfortunately, the other Hundi of the group didn't seem to be showing much aversion to it, so claiming she didn't want to go in because of the smell wouldn't look too good on her.

"...Ugh, it smells like an orc latrine..." she complained as she headed closer, sticking towards the back of the group as she firmly pinched her nose. "But if you're all sure we should go down there... Well, no helping it! I guess I'll have to go too, in case you all get eaten by zombies or something!"

[Assistant]
Tanya winced when the fireball burst in the air, her ears ringing. But at least it hadn't hit the tower, which could have easily brought the entire structure down and made making an entrance quite a bit more difficult. She released the pyromaniacal mage girl and gave her a rather stern glare, arms folded.

"If you do anything like that again, I'm taking your cut of whatever's down there for the church," she said. Technically speaking, the agreement they had made prevented her from doing that(and in fact, she was hardly a leader of the party at all, beyond knowing where they were meant to be going). Still, the small girl was angry and wasn't exactly thinking about her threats, beyond making them sound threatening at least. Swiftly, she turned her attention to the route that had been discovered at the back of the tower. Instantly she was able to discern one important facet. Well, it wasn't as if Tanya hadn't known already, but even if she had not, what she smelled would immediately have told her everything she needed to know.

There were undead down there. Where, exactly, was difficult to discern, since the foul scent of mindless undead tended to get into everything. But there was no mistaking that distinctive odor, of rot prolonged, of musty decay. It wasn't simply the smell of rotting flesh, it held another quality to it that resulted in a distillation, in scent form, of what made mindless undead so unpleasant. Well, aside from the fact that they usually attempted to eat you.

However, Al's wise decision to deposit a torch into the hole revealed that there were indeed no undead. There were, however, worn stairs, with crags and holes in various locations. It was far enough down that some sort of assistance would be required in reaching the floor, but with care it appeared safe.

Tanya peered into the hole, then folded her arms.

"I'm certain someone brought rope or something, so what are we waiting for?"

After finding a method of entering the hole safely, investigation would reveal a few different things. One portion of the steps a few meters down had been removed, revealing an old pressure-sensitive plate that had been partially dismantled. Only a few paces on was a skeleton in leather armor, notably missing a skull, a bag of various tools lying beside it. On the ground nearby was the missing portion of the pressure plate, making it rather clear both who had disabled the trap and what fate had befallen them. There was no clear way to discern what had killed him, aside from the missing skull.

Beyond was the bottom of the stairs, which widened into a hall with scattered, rusted sconces tipped over, and a rotten wooden table.


[System]
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Caste Ranking: Legally a refugee.

Physical Description/Appearance: Jack's appearance has obviously been tailored from his rough lifestyle growing up, like most young men these days. A calloused and tough-fleshed person, Jack has light, chocolate-brown skin, obviously showing of his African-American descent and heritage. His eyes are a dark gray, with an obvious golden-amber hue, making it a mixture of the three colors. Something that stands out on his otherwise chiseled, defined face, is the multitude of sharp, livid-red scars dotting along the flesh;; The remnants of multiple fights. Jack's physique, much like his appearance has been defined by his lifestyle; muscular, yet defined and lean, giving him the build of a tough, strong, and fast man, body built from sprinting long distances with heavy loads, and lifting heavy items.

His hair is short and black, matching his eyebrows, as in most cases. The young man's clothing consists of the standard Vault's jumpsuit, as per the rules of the Overseers, but with a few practical twists. The top piece of the jumpsuit is usually not on, instead hanging down his waist, exposing the white t-shirt underneath. This generally keeps him cooled down whenever he's in the core of the Vault, working on different things. It's secured by a sewn in, dark-brown utility belt, along with dark brown work boots finishing the look off. The knees of the jumpsuit has built-in pads for when he has to crawl along the hot steel floors. The clothing in the image is most-likely going to be his outfit once he makes it outside of the vault;; It will be found, of course, and different parts looted/upgraded over the course of the days.

Biography: A long time ago, a bleeding, scarred man with a mohawk and goatee entered the Vault...he was known as a refugee, considered scum by some of the more 'pure' members of the Vault. With him, he carried in his arms as similarly-dressed young woman, bleeding from numerous slashes and holes in her soft form. The doctors swarmed, and the man and woman was taken to the medic-bay. Years passed, and the same woman became pregnant. In the end, the man from before - now bald with a beard - carried the woman, once again, to the medic-bay. There was some problems with the birth. The woman died that day. However, with that loss, came an addition of life. One life loss for another life's beginning. That's where Jackdaw 'Jack' Missouri came into the world. Life growing up, as the son of a raider, definitely wasn't the best. He was pushed around, called 'impure' or 'dirty', and became tough from it.

He helped out his dad as a maintenance worker, cleaning pipes, carrying large boxes of tools, and crawling through compact spaces. The man taught Jack to be a man - how to shoot a gun, whenever they weren't busy with work. That was taught with the help of an old pellet rifle. He was taught how to fight with a knife, how to handle people with his fists, and some other wasteland knowledge the old Raider knew of. He wanted Jackdaw to be better than he was, and that's just how life was. "A man has to do, what a man has to do." Was dad's old motto, and Jack lived by it. Time passed, bullying eventually turned into fights, and a few close-calls passed by. In the end, his father was too old to survive, old illnesses acting up, and he died. Jack continued to graduate Vault School, now officially 'parentless'. A rather average life, right? Wrong. Unknown to him, life in the Vault was going to become a bit less...civil.

Work Test Results: Surprisingly, Vault Security Chief. He had expected a maintenance worker, but his practicality must have been calculated into combat situations. It suits him fine;; he's a natural crackshot, and a good scrapper.

Other: Skills - Repair, Melee, Guns, Survival.

[User]
Elijah ignored the kid who obviously wasn't as intelligent as the rest of the group. He was doubtful that he would even understand him if he gave his reasoning. He saw a few people taking the bags. "No I didn't run into any other people. Hell I probably would've died if I didn't get out of the security office fast enough." Elijah said. After replying to her, the vault door started to open. "Well here goes nothing guys from one death trap to another." He said trying to being witty. Once the vault door was fully opened he made his ways outside with the rest of the group. The tunnel leading to the outside was dark and had a very earth like smell. laying around were a few remains of people who tried to get into but didn't make it either because they were late or because something else happened. As he stepped outside the first thing he saw was a giant light since he hadn't had time to adjust his eyes. After a few moments of blinding light he saw the wasteland. "It does have a nice look to it. Makes you wanna explore and search every nook and cranny just to see what you can find ya know?" Elijah said to the group.

Elijah heard one of the group members talk about seeing a few houses or something further out. "Good idea we should get our bearing first then take a look." After he finished speaking a song started playing looking around it came from the guy who spoke to him earlier about stealing. Thats actually a good idea. Hopefully somebody will be on the air and we can get a idea of whats happening in the wastes. Elijah found a small rock looking into the wasteland to sit on. For now he would just chill and wait for the others.

[Assistant] Oscar made it to the top of the maintenance shaft and he discovered that the maintenance shaft door at the top was open. Despite being exhausted from the climb, Oscar continued on towards the vault door. As Oscar was on his way, he heard the scrapping and groaning coming from the door. Oscar thought to himself "Hmph,someone beat me to it. Anyway, it means that there are people who want out too." As he got to the door, he saw some people walk out of the vault. Despite his body screaming at him to stop and rest, Oscar said in a low voice " I am not resting until I am out of this god forsaken coffin that many call home." Oscar proceeded outside. He was blind for a while due to the sun's bright rays. As soon as Oscar saw again, the first thing he noticed the wasteland. It was exactly how his grandfather described. This made Oscar cry loudly. His determination and shock in the moment of getting out had turned into grief. He lost the only family he knew in front of him. He gather himself while still looking quite saddened. He walk up the group that were standing outside of the vault door. While taking a seat by them, Oscar said in a saddened voice" hello. It seems that I am not the only one who wanted out." Then he noticed how armed they were. " it seems that you guys fought your ways out. Hope it was not too difficult."


[System]
Age: 22

Bounty: 2.2 million

Gender: Female

Appearance:

Personality: Willow is nice to people she knows and likes, and acts polite to those she doesn't know when talking face to face. However she has a mischievous side and will occasionally pull pranks on people, more so people she doesn't know than her friends. Anyone she deems an enemy she doesn't play around with, and will derive great glee from dismembering them with her weapons as she ends the fight as fast as possible. She has no mercy for those who abuse their power to hurt others unjustly.

Backstory: Willow came from an island in the south blue. While she does not talk much about her pre pirate life, she will say why she became a pirate in the first place. Her main reason she'll say, is just to see how big and vast the world is. After all, there would have to be some wonderful things to see like mermaids, fishmen, and all sorts of weird things she heard about from travelers in her home village. Well that was before it was more or less destroyed by a visiting celestial dragon.

Both the reverence her village had for the dragon, and the lack of respect in kind the dragon showed, especially with them casually murdering people and being honored for it was just wrong. Seeing that careless regard for innocent life, Willow stole the reason the celestial dragon came to that town and fled, seeing her town as a lost cause considering all the damage the dragon had done before (Due to preparations and 'cleansing the town of that which wasn't deemed pristine") and after arriving.

After going on her own, she learned very quickly those that abused power were often very weak themselves, and very few people had the spine to oppose and dispose of them. Willow wasn't one of those people. And thanks to her speed and small size, it was borderline impossible for people to see her do her deed most of the time. She was only caught on camera once, and that moment was shown on her wanted poster. Although the poor cameraman didn't get a super good shot, what with the fairy light and all she had used prior. Hence her pirate name.

Abilities:
Shortsword Master: Willow is proficient in using shortswords and rapiers. Willows primary weapon of choice is a very thin and extremely sharp scalpel razor sword that is extremely efficient at cutting through flesh. Its about the size of a large dagger. Her secondary weapon is a large spike or rapier like weapon thats the same size as her razor sword.

Pressure Point Adept: While not a master, Willow is fairly competent at knowing where pressure points are and hitting them. Although she doesn't use this too often since slicing is more fun.

Adequate Smith: Willow knows enough about making weapons to make a new scalpel sword or rapier if hers breaks.

Devilfruit: Fairy Fairy

The Fairy Fairy fruit turned Willow into a fairy. Being a fairy, Willow is very small, about the size of a cup. However even at this size, Willow still has her normal durability and strength and can fly carrying things far beyond her current weight.

Enhanced Speed: Willow's size means she moves much faster than normal.

Advanced Flight: Willow is able to fly thanks to their fairy wings, and can dart around at will and freely change direction or even fly backwards. Willow can fly faster than they can run. Additionally Willow doesn't get tired from flight and can fly for very long periods of time.

Fairy Magic: Willow can use various types of fairy magic on themselves or others.

Healing: Willow can heal others or herself with a touch.

Fairy Fire: Willow can summon a ball of light that they can freely control. This light is very bright, and pierces illusions and fog.

Relationships: NA For now

Dreams: Explore the world, maybe kill a few celestial dragons.

[User] "Well I suppose it at least is an alright destination. I've been to worse." Adam grumbled boredom leaking from his voice leaning on the rail of the ship's port bow. After sailing for awhile in order to get here Adam had been ready to pick up fishing. And he hated fishing. It took a patience he didn't have for no real pay back except MAYBE a ok meal. Still at least this pirate haven may have something worth grabbing. A map, a few more informants, something else to make it worthwhile. "Well Captain its up to you what we do next...I hope its something worth our time." Adam said aloud he knew it was a bit disrespectful but this woman was a child still. Whatever she had up her sleeve she hadn't been worthy of being called a 'Captain' in the real sense. It was a title of the person who was in charge of this ship, not some sort of endearing call sign. "If I may be so bold it may be worth checking the tavern for rumors. World Government is still after some of us you know. It would be helpful to avoid too many marine-centrist ports nearby."

[Assistant]
Flint had been below deck working on organizing all their supplies. But he came to to the deck as he knew Alesia wanted to say something. As popped up he felt the cool sea breeze hit his skin which was quite warm after moving boxes and whatnot around. He took a swig of a refreshing drink in his flask as he listened to her speak. So they were finally hitting land? Sounded fine to him he was looking forward to a little break from being on sea. He stifled a little chuckle at seeing her attempt to be grandiose.

He saw Adam voicing his concerns. "I wouldn't worry too much about law enforcement. I think Brown Isles are a little too backwater for any serious threat to be here. That said it's still a good idea not to draw too much attention. Anyway Cap, I think I'll go look around town and get us some supplies. I know space is limited, but we're running short on things." He closed his eyes and thought, I wouldn't mind a little rumble though. I should poke around town for my own needs as well too... "Anything else you want me to do while I'm at it?" He waited for her response. If she had nothing then he'd go back down and make his preparations for landfall.

[User]
Willow had been in the kitchen when the ship came ashore. When the captain called out to the crew that they would be making landfall soon, she came out with a half eaten strawberry in her little hands. It was almost comical, considering her size and how big the strawberry looked in comparison. "I've got my disguise when we make landfall. We could use a few specialty supplies that I'm sure no one will mind missing..." She said. Soon after Adam mentioned a bit about the World Government, and Willow raised an eyebrow at the man.

"Well, if there are any marines and we get into hot water, a few slices will solve the issue pretty quick. I'm more concerned with the locals. Always a mystery to see how well they'll take to a cloaked figure." Willow said, remarking at a disguise she made that she hung on the door to the galley. For the most part it didn't look too bad, a simple cloak and long coat with leggings and boots sewn into the coat and a bit of padding to make it look like it wasn't just an empty pair of cloths.

[Assistant]
"A cloaked figure in a backwater port is leaves on the breeze to them. So common it barely registers." Riko mused from above. Like every part of their ship, his seated position behind the crossbeam of the lower sails was creaky at best and sorely in need of repair. Had they the supplies, and time, to make such improvements it would have been done ages ago.
As things were it was all he could do to keep the ship in its current condition.

Pointing at his mask as he leaned over to view the runt below, the impression that behind the concealing headware was a grin was all too obvious. "Try one of these. Draws stares like a fly to honey." Kicking back against the central beam, Riko gave a short laugh at his own humor.

[User]
The reply was expected from the Guy who calls himself Adam Grey. He was new to this crew, or to be exact, this was the first voyage with that guy. Alesia did not expect to find another crew member right in this ship vessel. He was rather polite from the way he talks, but not this time. But the more the merrier for her crew, she wouldn't mind another new one joining. She hasn't seen his face from the news, but that name sounded rather familiar, perhaps a common name?

A marine stronghold is rather unlikely here, not like if will be done so without any attention from the newspaper.

"I doubt there are any leads on the marines," She replied to Adam Grey. "But a tavern is a good start once we embark."

One of her crew was a fairy, yes a fairy. She wasn't sure of the bunch that she recruited, but that was probably something beyond the waters of her home coast. The world was a vast place, as far as she can tell. But she wanted to join her crew, so there is no harm letting her in. So long they are not those pesky marines...

And a guy in the mask was setting there, with words that she could barely pick out. The Leaves and the Breeze, just what in the hell is that guy smiling about? She is not sure on what his suspicious mask is used for. But good to know that she didn't have to embark on this voyage alone

"Just steer the ships while we put the ship to port," The ship of the white pearl has closed to the harbour, as Alesia learned close to the stern to check the side of the hull." I'll drop the ladders."

She replied to the oldest man of the crew, Flint Ironstag. Alesia wasn't sure on why a man like him is keen on joining a small ship like hers, he seemed more than capable of leading his own.

Nevertheless, that Flint was the only one whom she could entrust to the ship rudder.

Maintaining her flighty weight, Alesia carried a couple of ropes and ladders from the side, and jumped down from the side stern with one end of the ropes and ladders.

Her oversized cloak has tugged on her light weight like a slowly descending leaf, and Alesia landed with a soft creak on the wood of the pier. Mooring the ship ropes by the wooden pier, Alesia secured the knots of the ship with one sharp tug.

"Yall can drop the Anchors now," Along the wooden piers that are of a better condition of the white pearl, much to the insults of the ship. She thought she had gotten a good price on that one. Seagulls frolicked on the surface of the ships and gangplanks, shunned off by sailors that happen to have cutlasses and bandana. The only thing that are missing from them are a few parrots, so much for that fae to even suggest a disguise.

The long piers lead to a cobblestone streets, full of shophouses of food supplies, cannonballs and weapons. None of the people are alarmed to see the Crew of Scarlet Pirates embarking their shores, some of these vendors even grinned at the aspect of more customers. Seeing pirates are everyday thing to them, it seemed. Alesia wanted to raise a parrot, like the greatest pirates that she hear. All of them have a talking parrot by their side. But she don't want her newly formed crew to0 stray off too far away, that place seemed rather dangerous at night....

The tavern should be a better place to start if there is lodgings.

[Assistant]
Flint responded to Alesia's command in the affirmative and did as told. He skillfully steered the ship into the dockyards as he told the crew to raise the sails so they could slow down. After they docked, he went away from the wheel and approached Alesia again. "Hey Cap' I'm going to take some of our money and do some shopping for the supplies we need. I just wanted to tell you that before you left." He said.

He then disappeared below deck again. He began preparing himself for stepping off the boat. Part of that process involved re-arming himself with ammunition being loaded among other things on his person. He never was caught unprepared. Eventually he grabbed his large square sword that had been secured and took that along with him. His poncho swayed in the sea breeze as he stepped foot on land. It was a welcome feeling and he soon went off to do his shopping and pursue his own plans.

[User] "Honestly was expecting a worse greetings. Pirates like us usually have to deal with some big shot trying to lord over his piece of land. All the same I suppose at least we can go about our own business. Though I have to say I wonder who is calling the shots around here. If the marines aren't then there has to be someone we should be careful not to mess with." Adam once again cautioned. He had already received an earful from the group about the marines but his training from his butler back in the day always did come back to one thing. That was information on who was running the place you were staying at. Information was invaluable no matter if it was a small town, or a big one. "I don't really have any interests here captain this town seems small so I'll stick with the main group for now. That is of course if you don't want me around." Adam gave a fake chuckle as he smiled. Always with these false sincerity...always with these jokes...they tired on him but at least no one was the wiser hopefully.

[Assistant]
Riko was a weird one, but at least his joke got a small giggle out of Willow. Yeah, that mask would draw a lot of attention to himself.

Willow watched as the ship came into port, fluttering near her cloak disguise as she saw how everyone seemed to be very friendly to pirates? Something was definitely off here, Adam had the same observation and voiced his concerns. "Well, at least I can use my disguise easier here." Fluttering, she put her disguise on, which was basically her flying into a hole in the hood and lifting it all up using a weird system of supports and a few straps inside the hood. Flying properly above the ground, Willow could slide the boots along the ground and only observant people would notice that this 'person' wasn't walking, but then this wasn't for them.

"yeah, I'm going to stick with everyone as well. Although I'm not too worried if we get into a fight. People are very easy to deal with." Willow said, fluttering next to Flint in her disguise and 'walking' next to him as everyone was departing the boat to head into town.


[System]
19Class:
Pegasus KnightWeapons:
Iron LanceFighting Style:
Can for the most part be summed up as "Move fast and break things", charging with his pegasus and stabbing things with his lance at high speeds.Personality:
Fairly friendly, though he always looks like there's a bit of sadness behind his eyes. He is cautious about trusting people, but he is just as cautious in trusting himself. He holds himself to a set of moral lines he refuses to cross.He tends to offer his opinion even when it's not asked for, especially on topics he feels strongly about.History:
Dylan was born as a bastard child of a (relatively) rich ranch owner that bought and sold trans-nationally, though he was technically in Bravura. He was lucky enough not to be disowned by his father, but he lived with his mother and his twin sister instead of with his father, who never played a major role in his life besides providing his mother with a job and home. Both Dylan and his sister were good with the farm animals, especially the horses and pegasi. When Dylan 10, one day after another, their father gave them one of his best pegasus colts, a surprising and unexpected gift. The pegasus was named Andromeda, due to an offhand joke from one of the other helpers on the ranch that the colt had the potential to fly above the stars.

For the next seven years, they took good care of the colt, and Dylan discovered he had a talent for riding pegasi, and he joined a small mail-carrying business for a time, enjoying the trips around his home country, and often taking his sister with. However, at some point, a band of rogues attacked him and his sister while they were resting for the night between deliveries. They killed his sister, but Dylan and his pegasus managed to get away mostly unharmed. He still feels like it was his fault his sister had died, and he had suspicions that the rogues that had killed her were actually very unfortunate refugees from the warfront with Panoply.

After this incident, Dylan began teaching himself how to fight, though he didn't join the army in fear of leaving his mother alone in her time of grief. He used his savings to buy a lance- he had heard this was a weapon common to those who fought on pegasi- and he taught himself to fight while atop Andromeda. Stabbing makeshift dummies he had made himself while both he and his horse were wearing cheap armor, unbeknownst to his mother of course. He never had any formal teacher however, and so his skill is effectively limited to charging and stabbing sloppily. It was during this time that Dylan began calling himself by his mother's family name instead of his father's.

Upon hearing of the reclaimers, Dylan wanted to attempt to join immediately, however his mother refused to let him join, as she had already lost one child and didn't wish to lose the other. This didn't stop Dylan from training more in his free time however, and in his mailman job, he offered to take more of the ones that would take him near the front, hoping he would get to meet the Reclaimers, and possibly show enough promise that they would invite him into their ranks. How could he turn them down if that happened?Rationale:
Dylan feels like ending the war, or at least helping end the war, would honor his sister and give him repentance for not doing more to stop her from dying.Appearance:
Standing at 5'11", Dylan is lightly built, lean but he does have some muscle tone. His hair is a unique white-silver color, and his eyes are a light sky-blue color. His skin is very white, due to the fact he has to wear a lot of clothing when flying at high altitudes, which he spends a lot of his time doing. He usually wears layers of clothing that he can easily take off or put on to stay warm. His riding is moderately sloppy, but he can keep himself on a pegasus during a rough ride. When bored, or anxious, he can be seen tapping his fingers on whatever his hand is resting on.

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

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

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

[Assistant]
Jeanne Robina

Habeen's smile had returned.

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

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

"Ought you to check on her?"

"Marcus is already on it."

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

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

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

Yeah, she was a show-off.

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

[User]
Malboro, Hero turned Highwayman

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

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

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

Sanguin, Westroad Village

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

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

[Assistant]
Gaius Secondus

 Gaius never got to implement his plan, Smiles got trigger happy and everything went straight to hell. Gaius glanced around, decided that the others could handle the grunts, and took off after the leader. He climbed up the ladder with caution, holding his breath as he climbed through the rabidly thickening smoke. He stopped briefly when he thought to tie a hankerchief he had in one of his many pockets over his mouth and nose. As he climbed the ladder, he angrily thought, That amateur, if I was in his shoes I would have set an ambush at the top, or at least cut the ladder, maybe weakening a few rungs. Then again, why did he corner himself in the first place? He got up and found the bandit facing down Dylan and Syrena. Gaius didn't bother announcing his presence, he brought his tome out, muttered the familiar chant and sent a bolt of lightning coursing between his allies at the bandit. Unfortunately, luck wasn't with him, the unpredictable lightning magic missed his target, but the metal of the sword in the floor attracted it and caught the current.

Lilith Merdox

 As soon as the bandit leader dropped the dancer, Lilith charged in to protect her. She fended off the reminder of the bandits, intent on protecting the dancer and Nickolas long enough for Marcus to check and treat their wounds. Lilith managed to slip inside one's guard and slash open an artery, killing him in a spray of blood. six. She looked around quickly, checking on the others. Most of the rest of the bandits in sight were either dead or dying, except for a few still fighting here and there. She flicked her sword, to clear the blood away, spraying droplets in a crimson arc. You know, for a rag-tag bunch, their bravery is respectable. She noted. After all that, they came together one last time, and very few actually fled. Maybe, they have a lot of faith in their leader, if so, I can almost respect that.


[System]
G E N T L E
The humans called us monstrous, so monsters are what we became.

B A S I C S

---
AGE

128

RACE

Minotaur

CLASS

Cleric/Barbarian

OCCUPATION

Lay Brother of the Temple of Apollokeos

ORIGINATES FROM

Achea

IF OUTSIDE TORVELT

The Human Republic of Achea is a loose collection of city states far to the South-West of Torvelt. The climate is hot, and the terrain mountainous, though the people have risen to the challenge of taming such an arid land, becoming famed for their exports of grapes, olives, gold, and marble. The Achean's stand proud of their achievements, proclaiming that their society is the greatest in all the wide world, pointing to their democracies, philosphies, music and art as evidence of this, though it is whispered in courts around the lands that the prosperous country wouldn't be half as impressive as it is if it wasn't for the broken backs of the monstrous slaves it has all been built upon.

P H Y S I C A L A T T R I B U T E S

---

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Large even by Minotaur standards, Gentle stands taller than eight-and-a-half feet, over nine if you included the tips of his gently curving horns, which you probably should when measuring a Minotaur. He's broad too, as the 'proverbial' bull in fact, and hasn't he heard that one more than once since coming to Torvelt. His once bulging muscles and steely thews are running to fat a little in his old age and relative indolence, but he still possesses the kind of physique that would give even the most confidant pitfighter cause to pause.

To his intense consternation his lustrous black pelt is being invaded by unsightly streaks of iron-grey. Swirling blue-grey patterns are tattoeed across his arms, shoulders, chest and back, intricate patterns of some hidden meaning which Gentle hasn't shared with anyone since arriving in Torvelt. Age has also stolen some of his vim, and the spring from his step, but his hands are still strong and his horns still sharp. It will do, he tells himself.

STRENGTHS

* Physically powerful
* Experienced combatant
* Access to divine magic
* Rough wisdom

WEAKNESSES

* Large and heavy
* Moderate rheumatoid arthritis
* Fading eyesight
* Rage

P S Y C H O L O G I C A L A T T R I B U T E S

---

PERSONALITY

Pragmatic – Melancholy – Ponderous – Wistful – Studious – Mercurially violent (though working very hard not to be)

SEXUALITY

Pansexual

FEARS

* Heights
* Deep, fast moving waters
* Large canines
* Small, enclosed spaces
* The ghosts of his past

GOALS

To find the prince, stop the Fog, and achieve personal salvation.

S K I L L S

---

Labyrinth Recall

He can perfectly recall any path that he has taken.

Great Weapon Fighting

Perhaps unsurprisingly giant bull-men are pretty good at swinging large, sharp pieces of metal with the intent of hurting people. Who knew?

Sense of Smell and Hearing

A Minotaur's sense of smell and hearing is several times more advanced than that of a humans. Gentle has found himself relying on his more and more since his eyes started failing him.

G E A R

---

ITEMS ON PERSON

* Heavy iron bracers
* Travellers pack (sleeping roll, tinder box, dried rations etc)
* Icon of Apollokeos (Small golden pendant featuring a rising sun over a river)

WEAPONS

* Large wooden post (Functions as a quarterstaff/club)
* Great Sword

H I S T O R Y

---

The Minotaur known only as Gentle first walked into Torvelt about fifteen years ago, with nothing more than the clothes on his frame and a rolled bundle of leather upon his back. From there he wound a slow and gradual path towards Koprust, eventually arriving in the capital city and taking on a slew of odd jobs, seemingly happy with working hard manual labour for minimal pay, simple food and somewhere dry to sleep. On those rare occasions that he was approached by those not intimated by his monstrous visage he was found to be polite, but distant, seemingly happy to nurse his ghosts in solitude.

He eventually found himself working for the Abbott of the Temple of Clean Waters, a holy place that venerated Apollokeos , Lady of Dawn and New Beginnings. Gentle quickly fell into life at the Temple, becoming a lay brother and settling in for what he imagined would be a life of quiet contemplation and honest labour.

The God's, it seemed, had other plans.

He'd had nightmares for as long as he could remember, horrible and twisted visions from his past that tourtured him nightly without reprieve. However one night, when the horror had reached its zenith, he found salvation. The Lady Apollokeos visited him, in all her golden splendour, and explained that his redemption was in reach. She tasked him with joining the quest to find the Prince, and that through that labour he might just find the peace he so desperately desired.

When Gentle awoke he thought the dream no more than that, the fantasy of a tired mind, but later that day he met a man who introduced himself as Minoas, the fabled absent father of the Minotaur race. Minoas reinforced Apollokeos commands, urging Gentle to join the quest before disappearing.

One visit from a God he could ignore. Two would have been pushing it. Collecting his belongings and making his farewells, he made his way towards thee castle.

[User]
---

A N T R A R O

---

Antraro had come with many others to the throne room of King Brand's castle. He watched as those who had trepidations walked by him towards the exit of the room and castle. Some ran into him, some purposefully and some not so. Even after years of living in the city, some still despised him for his visage. He held no ill will towards them in return, but he did feel a pang of disappointment.

Antraro stood at full height in his robes, lizardlike head exposed to the crowd and the royalty before him as King Brand and the Queen presented their speech and call to action. While Antraro heard the speech and registered that it was a quest from a king to his subjects, all he could hear was the sadness of a father who had lost a son begging for help.

Antraro watched as two other women of half-elven nature stepped forward with their acceptances and Antraro, would follow suit. In a gentle, deep, voice, he spoke, "I am Antraro, son of Erentus. I pledge my mind, body, and soul to the cause of finding your son, your majesty. This I swear." Antraro frowned in empathy for the king, he knew what it was like to lose something most dear.

[Assistant]
---

Solveig Forgeheart

---

Among the audience gathered within the throne room was a stout Dwarf, leaning against one of the far walls with his arms crossed. Solveig was still recovering from a partial hangover with last night's slim prize-money filling his pouch. He listened intently to King Brand's words. The task was clear. Venture into the Torvelt Fog to recover the King's son. This was by far the biggest challenge Solveig was presented with but this... This could be the exact ticket he needed to return home.

The Dwarf would watch as many of the court would exit the room. To be honest, Solveig couldn't blame them. You'd either have to be desperate, foolish or just a downright crazy bastard to take on this quest. The funny thing was- Solveig couldn't figure out which category he fell under. Solveig would wait a moment, seeing if there was anyone else who would take on the call with him. Afterall, he didn't want to be the first one to volunteer for a suicide mission. Two half-elves and a Dragonborn would precede Solveig's answer. This wasn't a bad crew by any stretch of the imagination, at least by first glance.

Solveig pushed himself off of the wall and uncrossed his arms. "Right then..." He began, mostly murmuring to himself. "I am Solveig Forgeheart of Tharum Kholdur!" The Dwarf introduced himself in an almost boastful manner, pounding his chest. "By my fists and my honour, I will help find yer son!" He answered, the Dwarf's accent was thick and typical of his race.

[User]
STUR
__________

Those with lesser mettle parted around Stur in a steady stream, headed for the doors at the opposite end of the hall. He supposed he did not blame them; there were easier ways to make coin in Koprust, many of which didn't involve throwing your life away. Nobody with a home to return to or a promising life ahead of them would walk willingly towards the Fog. Stur rolled his shoulders slowly in anticipation as the king finished his hopeful entreaty to the few that remained. He had learned well over the years that having one of these soft lowlander nobles indebted to you was a very useful thing indeed, and he intended to take full advantage of the opportunity, whatever the potential cost.

He eyed those that stepped forward first with some suspicion, looking them over. Before coming to this cursed place, he had scarcely seen other civilized races than his own - the occasional Orcish raiding party on the northern borders of his land, maybe, and a few half-elves in the columns of Ephreian regulars - and he sometimes felt that he was still getting used to their various oddities. In particular, he kept an eye on the big red lizard. Stur never let his guard down around those fortunate enough to be taller than him.

There was a brief lull. He stepped forward. Gods, I could use a drink.

"I am Stur." He let the name speak for itself. "I've pulled many free of the talons of death, sire. I'll find your boy for you."

[Assistant]
The Minotaur stood in the shadows at the back, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible – how successful he was in that goal was up for debate, what with being a pretty damned conspicuous nine-foot tall horned monster and all – and tried not to let the crowd of would be heroes nervous energy get his blood pumping too fast. It was a pretty well known fact that getting a Bull 'Taur like him too excited was like to end in tears, and though he'd gotten a better handle on things of that nature in his old age it still didn't do to tempt the Gods. And seeing as he'd somehow managed to get the attention of not one, but two divine beings, he'd decided it would pay to be careful.

Careful. Lot of that going around apparently. A goodly more than half the room had upp'd tails and left at the kings words, no doubt remembering that discretion was the better part of valour. Cowards, some would call them, but not Gentle. No, he was too long in the tooth to be throwing words like that around when people were showing good sense. Hell's, he just wished he could join them. Instead he watched the young, the able, the smart and the strong line out of the hall, and pondered just how desperate the king and the God's had to be for them to have to rely on an old, demonstrably-past-his-best-that-wasn't-even-all-that-good-anyway bull like him. Though he supposed that Torvelt was a desperate country, so he guessed they were in the place for it.

His attention slowly shifted to those wannabe-worthies who hadn't been dissuaded by the kings words.

First was the serious looking half-elf, she who moved like a chimera. The way those swords sat upon her hip; easy, free, and always within an easy pull, he was willing to bet she was almost as deadly as a chimera too.

After her was a second half-elf, uncommon to see two at once in Koprust. She didn't move quite so assuredly as the first, though if she spoke true and she did make her living out of the forests of Torvelt then she would be more capable than most. Dangerous things lived in those woods, would take one cold-eyed killer to survive them.

Following them was – rarest of rarities – a Dragonborn. He had an incongruously gentle voice, and a calming demeanor about him that seemed at odds with his reptilian visage, but if the stories of his race where to be believed then it would be a damned fool that underestimated him.

Then there was the dwarf. Didn't seem like much to Gentle, but then to him most dwarves were barely knee high. He supposed Solveig looked fit enough, for a midget. Smelled like a condemned brewery though, which wasn't ideal.

Behind the dwarf there was a human. He looked worn. Battle-worn, age-worn, world-worn, just worn. For a moment Gentle had the uncomfortable thought that if he'd been born human he'd probably look something like the man in front of him. Besides that he didn't think much of Stur. Humans brought little to the world in his opinion. They weren't graceful as the elves, sturdy as the dwarves, or strong like the 'Taurs. More like a hells-spawned plague than...

The old Bull felt his blood getting hot and took a breath to calm himself. Probably not all that surprising that even after all this time living among the frails he could still fall back into his old prejudices so easily. Shows that some shackles are harder to break than others.

Stur was stepping back now, sending a wary glance Antraro's way – showing good sense or displaying common human racism, Gentle couldn't decide. Regardless he sensed that the time was now upon him to introduce himself. He took a few lumbering steps forward towards the throne, though didn't bother with the bowing. He'd stopped bending the knee to frails in crowns a long time ago.

Besides, he wasn't as limber as he used to be. If he got down he wasn't all that sure he could get back up again.

"Call me Gentle," his voice came out like a distant rumble, thunder rolling across far off mountains, "The God's have tasked me with finding your boy, so . . . I'm doing it, I guess." He almost shrugged, slightly embarrassed that he couldn't have found fancier words. Everyone else had fancy words, even the bloody dwarf. If Apollokeos and Minoas really were watching him he was guessing they were hucking it up right now.

Damage done, he was keen to get out. He cast around and spotted the two half-elves making their way out the door. "Reckon I'll follow them." That rumble of a voice sounded a touch less impressive now as he made after the women, more sheepish than bull.