[System]
Gender: M

Age: 26

Career/Class:Soldier / Ex-Soldier

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

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

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

[User]
The night was cold, colder than even Cyrdic was used to. But crisp. His senses were keen as a knife's edge, much like he often felt when he was in danger. He did not know exactly why, though the Chaos-wrought stone gargoyles mounted at various intervals of the balcony he had stepped on could have been a factor. The snow had stopped falling for now, leaving the outside an almost impenetrable void of darkness beyond the torches on the balcony.

"Leave us," Rishnekov said to the Royal Hussars who framed the doorway. They only hesitated for a moment, and then gave a curt bow before exiting into the Palace, closing the curtains behind them. Cyrdic tried not to think too much on it for his sake. He felt Rishnekov was a brave man, meeting Cyrdic alone without supervision. His voice caught the Ostlander's attention.

"So, Herr Richter, from where do you hail in the Empire?" he inquired, though his eyes were on the gem that was attached to the head of his cane, polishing it idly as he stared into it. The silence after he spoke was near deafening. The wind howled a moment later. It sounded uncomfortably similar to wailing. He tugged his furs closer to his muscled form, recalling he felt the familiar press of his dagger sheath against the side of his leg.

"Nordland."

"Truly? I heard there was an unfortunate incursion as recently as a few scant months ago."

"I was there at the battle." Cyrdic replied. He was lucky Ostlanders and Nordlanders were both terse in their wording. He doubt he could pretend to be a Reiklander unless he was speaking to someone from Cathay. "The barbarians were tough as always, but they were sent back to the realm of Chaos where they were spawned."

"Chaos is never truly defeated." the dark man replied. He spoke to Cyrdic as if he was talking to a hound that had done something ignorantly wrong. "I had thought someone from a region such as Nordland would have understood that."

"Let us not argue semantics, my lord. The Norscans were slaughtered save a paltry few, and I believe we can do the same to the force outside. They have little in the way of provisions for a long campaign, yet they continue to sit there. Would that not suggest they know help is coming?" Cyrdic reasoned. "Better to strike at them now. We need only 7,000 good Lancers and archery support from the walls and they will be routed in a day."

Rishnekov finally halted his inspection of the gem and turned to regard Cyrdic. Somehow, he felt as if a weight had landed upon his body merely by the man's look. His cloak opened with a small sway of his shoulders, and Cyrdic thought he could see a drop of red. "Herr Richter, how long have you been in Praag, may I ask?" The question was rhetorical, he could discern. "You are of noble blood, if I recall correctly. Yes? I have only been to Nordland a few times in my life, but I familiarized myself with the courts there well enough. You know, as I do, that certain politics plague those in charge and threaten to topple what we hold so dear... If Enrik were to attack tomorrow, then he would be overthrown the next day. He has more enemies than you can imagine. And if Praag was without a ruler, we would not be able to hold off what is coming."

"If it is not already here." Cyrdic replied.

"There is always evil in Praag. I suggest you come to terms with that, Herr Richter."

There was something very off, but Cyrdic could not quite understand what. He felt him needing to keep himself from baring his teeth in front of the man, though he made no move to threaten Cyrdic. "Have you eaten yet, Lord Rishnekov? Shall we call for a servant to provide some food as we speak? I had just eaten at a place of very high esteem, the Hussar's Hooves. But I could still eat a bit more." Cyrdic saw all he needed to see when Rishnekov looked at him, the barest whisper of a nameless recognition. "I always grow famished when speaking of killing Chaos worshipers."

Cyrdic flexed his hands behind his furs, gazing at Rishnekov's every move as the man regarded him.
"That is very kind of you..."

[Assistant]
The band struck up a tune and the couples began the dance. It was a staid Imperial tune with which Camilla was familiar from her time as lover to the Count of Ostland's son. It seemed strange to be taken back to a time before she had met Cydric and embarked on her present life as a sellsword. It really wasn't that long ago, perhaps a year and a half, though with all the travel they had done her sense of time was far from certain. It seemed a distant time now and it was hard to imagine that she had been that person, she had been convinced that she would only need spend a few months in the 'court' of Ostland before she would attract a lover who would whisk her off to Altdorf or Marienburg and house her in a palace with every comfort. It was hard to imagine that she had gone from that to working as hired help at a besieged city at the edge of the world.

"Does something amuse you," Indendre's cultured voice cut in on her reverie. Camilla executed the required spin and moved into the promenade, allowing the elf to lift her hand in his own.

"Lo how the mighty have fallen," she quoted with an ironic grin. If the elf were confused by the reference he gave no sign of it, gliding through the steps of the dance with grace that was literally inhuman. It seemed strange to her that an elf would be so familiar with Imperial culture as to know a dance by heart but it would have been rude to enquire. She was receiving a number of hostile stares from the other women of the court, clearly envying her the elegant elf as a dance partner. Several of the men were already trying to appear casual in their jostling for the next dance with her.

"Why are you interested in me?" she asked the elf as they made a series of graceful turns and moved from the promenade into the waltz. The other elves were watching Indendre with unreadable expressions as he laughed lightly.

"Well because you are interesting of course," the elf said easily, avoiding the thrust of the question with grace.

"And why is that?" she pressed, even though she knew it was pressing the bounds of propriety.

"How many famous Tilean sellswords come noblewomen do you see at this dance m'lady," Indendre replied ironically. Camilla arched any eyebrow but didn't miss a step of the complicated crescendo of the dance, turning against the elf with hands raised palm to palm without every quite touching. Clearly the elf recognized the pair of them though she couldn't for the life of her imagine how. Perhaps Dietricha had told him, her eyes sought for the wizard but didn't find the woman on a casual glance.

"That isn't it," she said, sensing the elf wasn't speaking the whole truth, but before she could press the matter the song concluded with a bow from the men and a curtsey from the women. Before the note finished reverberating people swept in on them. Camilla found herself facing a young hussar who was a little more aggressive than his fellows, but Indendre, despite being besieged by the ladies of the court seemed to glide gracefully out of their reach to rejoin his fellows.


[System]
Y o r u

Personal Dossier

---
Age

15

Origin

Takamatsu, Kagawa

Physical Description

Standing at 5'3", Yoru is perfect height to be an idol. Her physical traits are well groomed. Her pure white hair is cut to a cute length and styled frequently, her dark skin is free from any noticeable blemish as a result of her extreme skin care, and her clothes seem to just fit better than other people. To call her an idol rather than a hero wouldn't be too far off.

Characterization

Attention-seeking
Spiteful
Self-centered
Artistic
Calculating
Vain

Personal History

Born to two pro heroes, Yoru's chance at a normal life was gone from the start. Unfortunately for her, neither of her parents decided to slow down their heroism. From a very young age, she was raised by a series of caretakers. They were fine, but none of them stuck around long enough to make a connection. The only friend that she had during all of this was her art. Years of charcoals, pencils, pastels and paints had formed her childhood. Art was the only thing that made her happy, but the direct scorn of her parents for this killed any interest the young Yoru once had on it.

As she grew, her parents kept on trying to instill their sense of heroism and justice on her. Every heroic thing she did was rewarded by her parents with love and affection, even if they were such small things as helping an old woman move a sack of rice. Conversely, every time she showed her parents her art or anything else unrelated to being a hero, she was meant with disapproval and ignoring. Even though they were her blood, her parents never felt like as though they raised her. The isolation corrupted Yoru. She would be a hero, even if it was just for the attention.

Of course, the easiest path was through a hero school. With all of her drive put towards becoming a renowned hero, she was just good enough to enter Ishin Academy—the school her parents wanted her to enter. Her path to superherodom would start there.

Character Development & Conceptualization

As a character, Yoru is meant to symbolize and exploit the issues of commercialized heroism. Rather than be a hero for the sake of helping others, she is a hero in order to become famous. She's meant to ask the question of what is actual heroism. If someone saves a life to save a life and another saves a life for fame, what's the actual difference between the two? Likewise, what does the effect of this commercialization and commodification have on these types of people?

Likewise, she's meant as a character who isn't able to do what she wanted. Her number one goal was to be an artist, but was unable to because of her parents disapproval. Being the child of two pro heroes, nevermind two absentees, has an effect on the head. For Yoru, becoming a renowned hero is a way to gain her parents approval. The fame she desires stems from the corrupted dreams of wishing to become a renowned artist and the belief that her parents will finally pay attention to her.
Abilities & Talents

---

Quirk Type

Emitter

Quirk Description

Going by the name [Black Paint], one can easily assume the basics of Yoru's quirk. From her mouth, she can exude a pitch black substance that allows for the creation of "holes". These holes can be created by the paint being placed on opposite sides of an object. If a direct path can be made between the two painted areas, instantaneous travel can be made between the two points.

Additionally, if something is covered in an uninterrupted line of paint, a light force will cause it to split into two. These objects are still connected, so to speak. The insides are covered by a thick black and a nigh indestructible elastic rope connects the now separated objects. While it can't be cut and resists almost all impact, the rope is limited to a ten meter stretch. Each meter is harder to pull than the next and the resistance approaches about infinity at that mark. Reattachment is as simple as placing the two separated pieces together again.

The paint has a simple weakness: it's a liquid. If it mixes with any other liquid, it will violently attempt to make things how they were. Any object intersecting a portal will be shot out via the path of least resistance. If a rope is wet, then it will slowly retract until fully repaired. Once the black paint is no longer intersecting a foreign object or reattaches separated parts, it will begin to wash off. It also lasts up to thirty minutes before flaking off and turning to dust, causing the same process as water.

Other Talents & Attributes

While rough around the edges, Yoru is half decent at art. She suffers from not actively pursuing her interests, but the effort she put into it during her early life is apparent. She also knows a bit about art history, but it's not often that it comes up.

Her voice and mannerisms are pleasant to listen to. This is less natural and more effort, as she has spent months of effort into making herself as marketable as a hero as possible.

She's also rather athletic. Not enough to win any competitions or set any class records, but she put the effort into exercising that she wouldn't be left behind by anyone.

[User]
Location: Ishin Academy, Sapporo, Japan -- April 7th

Interacting With: Asuka @Hero

---

What about you?

Yoshiba had been contemplating what kind of training she could do for a few minutes, so she supposed the best answer to give her roommate was a bit of the truth. Yoshiba didn't lie often and stretching the truth like she had with why she had picked Ishin was about as far as she would go. The blue-haired girl thought of the various training she could do like body conditioning, indoor exercises, and informal study of the sidekicks she was paired with for a year. She was admittedly a little anxious, despite her bravado.

"Guess I'll do some body conditioning. Basic training." She uttered, thinking about Asuka's plans. "Checking out the building wouldn't be a bad idea. Maybe I'll do that before figuring out lunch, unless they're gonna like call us to a cafeteria or something. Either way, result's the same."

[Assistant]
Kana couldn't help the shock—or the twinge of disgust—that twisted her face as Wakako explained the intricacies of her quirk. It was sympathetic, of course, and she cringed at the idea that her roommate might think she was disgusted by her and not the preparations she had to go through to get her quirk working, but it seemed as though Wakako understood. Perhaps she was even used to it; after all, how many people wouldn't flinch at the idea of drinking dangerous chemicals, on top of god-knows-what-else?

She nodded appreciatively when Wakako suggested their quirks' more finicky aspects were similar, but in truth, listening to the cannon's explanation had her feeling grateful that all she had to put up with was pain. There were prospective dangers with her quirk, of course, but at the very least she never had to worry about drinking poison or eating metal, to say nothing of worrying about things exploding in her face.

Still, shock and worry aside, Kana found herself rather relaxed. She'd taken a seat on the bed she'd lifted, and while Wakako talked she had listened closely and almost forgotten herself. Her hands had stopped shaking, her heart, still hastened, no longer pounded against her chest like the feet of a rabbit. Her elbow still stung, but what was pain compared to anxiety? She was smiling, even, swept up in Wakako's enthusiasm for what her quirk might do with a little practice, and her pride for what she could do already.

"I'd like to see that, when they let us," she said, and did mean it. It had been years since quirks had been such a welcomed topic; back home her father had made discussing them practically taboo. Kana of course hadn't spoken a word about her own quirk to anyone before Ishin had entered the picture, and so Wakako's question stumped her, at first.

No, no. Don't lie, you know exactly where your quirk is headed.

Perhaps it was the fact that, for the first time in a while, she felt like she had a handle on her nerves, but she managed to quiet her own thoughts before they could bring disaster back to fragile, tentative calm she'd mustered.

"Oh," she said, surprised at the relative clarity of her own voice. "I'm not sure…maybe lifting two beds at once?"

Was that a joke? Had she tried to make a joke? Even in her own stillness she could feel herself cringing.

"Uhm…b-but, really, I don't know. It might seem a bit…dumb, but I'm not really sure what I'm capable of. I guess I'd like to find out, here. I-is that wrong? I mean…Ishin is supposed to be…well, Ishin, and…"

Wow, you can't go thirty seconds without trying to sabotage the conversation, can you?

Well, it was nice while it lasted. Kana felt her smile twitching. She bowed her head, cleared her throat.

"Sorry. I guess the…ah…speech, that the Supervisor gave still has me a little nervous. I guess we'll have to get used to imposing faculty, though, huh? I'm sure the teachers aren't any...warmer than he is."

---

[User]
Tanegashima Wakako

---

Sapporo, Japan
Ishin Academy. April 7th

---

Wakako laughed along with Kana's little joke. It was hardly a side-splitter, but it was kind of funny. Kana went on to explain in somewhat halting terms that she didn't really know what she was capable of. It was perfectly reasonable, assuming her parents were out of the picture, or that she had only one around and they didn't share her quirk. Of course all she could do was speculate without Kana telling her, and she didn't want to just up and pry into her family situation like some kind of ass. Even worse if it really was some tragic situation where she never met her parents and just bringing it up made her sad. Wakako decided it was best just to take her words at face value.

She went on to talk about how "Ishin was Ishin". At first Wakako wasn't sure what she was driving at, but she clarified. Wakako figured she was talking about how competitive and cutthroat the speech made it all sound. Having to "earn your place" was hardly conducive to getting to feel out how your quirk worked, as though they expected them all to already know what they were doing, rather than being taught like a school ought to. Of course she had a feeling it wasn't as simple as that, but she could understand what Kana meant.

"Yeah, I get you. He sure doesn't sound like he's going to let us chill out and find our grounding." It was just like somebody else Wakako could think of. A certain lady living on a boat. "Buuuut, think of it this way; they probably wouldn't have let us come here at all if they didn't think we had potential, right? Like they screened us all, sounded us out, they had to have assumed we'd at least have the capacity to do well. So as long as we give it our all, we'll probably get through this, yeah?" It was technically just puff for Kana's sake, and maybe even for her own state of mind. Wakako definitely wasn't this confident about it all, but she knew it wouldn't pay to sit there and think the school was going to chew them up and spit them out. Wakako wanted to be a hero, and if that meant slogging through Ishin's grueling course work, then she'd do it or break trying.

"As for the teachers, I dunno if you should be too quick to right em all off. We already met Nekohara-senpai and she didn't seem, uh, all that cold and whatever, right? Chances are the faculty might be cut from a different cloth than the Supervisor. Course, my speculation ain't no guarantee, haha...." Truth be told she was leaning that they would be just like Yukimura Hideaki, but she preferred to try to remain hopeful if she could.

"Did you manage to speak to any of the others in our class? I only got to talk to the one briefly. Osamu Kenzo, that kind of stiff looking guy? But he's nice and polite, seems like a reliable dude. How about you?" She thought it would be handy if Kana had some first impressions of the others to share.

---

[Assistant]
Well, that was something. Her roommate instantly dumped a pile of trash onto her bed. Did... Did she sleep like that? On a pile of foul smelling fasteners? Even if they were related to a quirk in some way, that didn't mean she should just make a mess. It wasn't like she was going to use it any time soon. She was making a mess for no reason, wasn't she? It took a bit out of her, but Yoru didn't snap. Rather, she covered her mouth with a hand, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. It wasn't worth it was her mantra. She chanted it in her mind, trying her best not to cuss out Haruhi. It took even more willpower to not pop off when she made a mess of the floor.

"Eh!? Of course I've had sleepovers!" Yoru instantly replied when asked. Her sweet tone was still there, sounding more like she was making a joke rather than actually getting offended. She was only getting defensive because it was such a dumb question! Yea, that was it. There was no other reason why she'd respond so quickly. Rather promptly, Yoru had a hand pointed towards her. It wasn't good. Really, it was as if someone directly insulted her. The complete lack of effort on part of Yano made her sick. But she had a reputation to gain. By god, she'd work her magic. Well, she'd actually need to perform a miracle.

"S-sure." Her sweet tone came, albeit with some shock in the inflection. She grabbed a nail file, cuticle pusher, and pick. She'd need to boil them later, but her own nails were good enough for a few days. It was time to get to work, and get to work she did. Fixing those cuticles, evening those horribly cut short nails, and getting as much gunk out as she could. Maybe she'd need to boil her hands after this. Maybe. It was like trying to fix a gorilla. Actually, a gorilla would probably be easier than that.


[System]
Esper
[Student]
[Micro Type]

Blessed with a slender frame and soft features, Wataru is nevertheless much stronger than he looks. He stands a mere five foot and is rarely seen out of uniform even on days off. His hair is long and dark, tied back in an elegant ponytail that reaches to the small of his back.
Nickname/Alias: None

Position: Judgement, Junior Member

Faction: None

Seat Number: #19

Nationality: Japanese

Age: 15

Gender: Male

Blood Type: O

Biography: As one of the lucky few to live in Academy City most of his life, Satou Wataru has attended school here since he was a child. He never really stood out much, coasting along comfortably intul the end of middle school where he finally mustered the will to do something with himself. Opting to join Judegment at 14, Wataru spent the next year undergoing the ruthless training regime suffered by all new recruits. By the end of it his confidence had grown immensely, even if his nature as a social satellite had not.

He settled in well with his new co-workers in Judgement's Hybrid Academy branch, earning himself a valued place as an informant and tracker. While his record of arrests was relatively low, his assistance was often a decisive factor when dealing with a delinquent with a strong combat ability. While he had a few good friends within Judgement that he trusted implicitly, Wataru hadn't made much headway with his classmates; something he planned to address in the coming weeks.

Personality: Gentle, relaxed, quiet. While many enjoy the limelight and being the centre of attention, Wataru prefers life on the outskirts of the social group, close enough to join in but distant enough to not be noticed. Despite this, he isn't of a nervous disposition or unsure of himself; he simply enjoys a quiet life without the petty bickering so common among people his age. Wataru's sense of humour is somewhat snide at times, but he generally acts with the best of intentions if not the best of results.

Likes:
- People watching
- Animals
- Reading
- Urban exploration
- Western food
- Outwitting people and people who can outwit him

Dislikes:
- Robots
- Cameras
- Explaining himself
- Scary movies

Skills:
- Keen eyed observation
- English and Japanese literacy
- Knitting
- Always armed for duty, in one way or another

Ability:
Mirage, Level 3
While his ability grants him no real fighting power, Wataru can manipulate the local AIM field to warp what others perceive. Normally he uses it to conceal himself or change his appearance, but can use it to create phantoms to frighten and confuse his opponents, giving him the opportunity to attack in more conventional ways.

Magic: None

Theme Songs:
At Ease

Extras: Because his ability is of limited use in combat, Wataru has learnt to be proficient in other weapons to carry out his role with Judgement. His is pretty handy with a wooden cosh and always keeps a taser on his person.

A Discourse on Hamsters (also a voice sample)

[User]
Thank god for Haemokinesis, truly a blessing in disguise. Akira thought as he saw the level 5 Esper, Ria Tsurara, also known as Absolute Zero. . . strip down to her underwear as she introduced herself. If not for his ability, Akira would have bern rather red in the face and flustered. Now he was just flustered.

"Tsurara-san, I understand from rumors that you have a habit of. . . exhibiting yourself, but I don't think it's very appropriate to do in class. So if you could put your clothes back on, I'd appreciate it." Akira said with a semi-nervous smile, his eyes taking in the sight before him with an artistic interest in the forms. In the right kind of dress. . . maybe a loose, flowing kimon- Stop it Akira, now's not the time to be think about your art work. You'll ask later.

[Assistant]
Kazeno grinned, "You can use wind too? How long can you fly?"
Kazeno chuckled, a part of his ego hoped Ray couldn't fly as he himself could only "fly" through a series of air dashes and gliding. He flicked his wrist and his paper broadsword exploded into individual sheets which went back to doing ballet, "Say, how much different is Wind magic compared to aerokinesis?"

Slowly, Kazeno began to realize that some of his papers were disappearing, he looked up and Chi Ni had been fishing them up with a ghostly bamboo rod, "Chi Ni! Give those back, they aren't even mine!"
Kazeno began jumping up and down trying to get Luna's papers back from the mischievous ghost, hoping he didn't look to weird to anyone else as he probably looked like he was trying out a hipster exercise routine.

[User]
Luna

"I'm so sorry, but I can't actually use magic. I'm just an official from the church, sent to observe the school." When Ray started talking about her puzzles, her eyes lit up, but suddenly she remembered she didn't have time to be chatting. "I'm so sorry, but I have to go. I'm really late!" She rushed toward the door, bowing to the teacher as they passed, and quickly made her way down the hall to the principles office.

Tsumiki

After Ria finished introducing herself, Tsumiki stood up, ignoring the people who hadn't realized class was starting. "My name is Tsumiki Tatsuya, Level three Esper and Student Council President." With his terse introduction over with, he sat down again and waited.

[Assistant]
Ray as confused by the Esper's question. What satisfaction would the young man derive from knowing how long Ray could fly. He raised and eyebrow and laughed. "For as long as my Mana lasts, so for a while, but I don't utilize that ability much." He said as he wiped a tear from his eye. Maybe he wishes to fight against you, compare his strengths to yours. "He would lose, without a doubt." He said sternly in his head. " Espers usually don't train there bodies, which would mean my physical prowess and Spell diversity would blown him out of the water." He said to his conscious. Don't underestimate your opponents, ever. Ray sighed, he could never with these arguments.

Ray ignored to ghostly presence that plauged that student he was conversing with and turned to Luna. There could be a logical explanation to this anomaly. Ray ignored his conscious and focused on Luna. "Oh, well, hope your report turns out to be a good one." He said scratching the back of his head. He actually prayed that her report was good, it would have been logical to believe that he would be the one to blame is the school got a bad review, as he was the Vice President. Calm down. You'll do fine. "I'm sure your right." He mumbled to himself.

Before Ray could say something else the girl was already about to leave. Ray raised an eyebrow and watched her was she ran away, he had to wonder why she was so late. It's illogical to be late, that many times. She is going to have a hard time doing her job. Ray agreed with his conscious, if this girl was to do her job, she was going to have to find away to fix her problem.

"Crap." Ray mumbled when the teacher finally walked in. He silently went back to his seat and listened to the blue lady make her joke and ask for everyone to introduce themselves. Ray payed special attention to Absolute Zero's intouduction. Ray was enjoying hearing about her until she striped as she talked. Ray's eye widened and his face wet red, as lovely as the show was, Ray had never seen a woman without a shirt on. Ray barely noticed the room getting cold, although he probably wouldn't have felt it anyway.

After that incident and some more introductions, Ray decided to introduce himself. Ray stood up straight and looked at the teacher and class. "My name is Zentaro Ray, also know as Ray-Ray. I am the Vice President and a Magician." He said sternly before taking his seat once again. To much information.

[User]
Seiji shuddered a bit as the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees, which kind of irked him. He wasn't in much of a mood for cold temperatures, so he he clasped the novel shut before looking around. Maybe someone had...

Scanning the room, Seiji's face immediately turned a bright red as he noticed one of his fellow classmates down to her undergarments- a girl, no less! Using the book to cover his vision (and his face), Seiji cleared his throat and spoke.

"I'd really appreciate it if you could put some clothes on... Please. We're in a classroom, regardless of whatever circumstances you decided it was okay to strip down because of."

Yep, his intuition was dead on. The class was definitely full of some weird people. Looks like his social life was forfeit for this lifetime. Maybe he'd have better luck in the next. Maybe. The cold temperature, he could deal with. That? Not so much.

[Assistant]
To aru Kagaku no Janpā!/ A Certain Scientific Jumper! / To aru konton shitta no Janpā ! / A Certain Chaotic Jumper!

This day and never again, I'm not in class but needless to say I'm having epistaxis right now, Ria-sama is at it again~ kyaa~ A daily life of a fangirl doesn't get any better than this. Sigh.....can we get to the point already, I already know who looks good, who is an asshole, who is likeable, who is interesting, and who doesn't get my interest at all. Until this very moment, I recall being in Mr.Principle's office, he doesn't want me to ruin the ceremony, it's so bad that I have to be under tight pressure; Judgement are everywhere during the ceremony and I couldn't do anything about it. Furthermore,why not just pull the fire alarm?...Then the fire sprinklers leading to warping pond into the classroom and trigger the sprinklers. Needless to say, what about a pond to the classroom? No, only Anzai knows how to deal with complicated things, he probably is peeping on Ria-sama by now. Then warping to the fire alarm and back into hiding? Genius.

In that case, I have to wear gloves and not leave evidence and make sure to warp the handle off... no..no... that might point to me since all the blame is onto me with my foul records. Technically there should be a frame, a culprit foil, I just have to make it look like it is destroyed by someone else's power! Therefore it is X person's fault and Y person passes on the blame! Judgement and Anti-skill specialize on that sort of investigation, damn it. They'll see cameras being clean, hidden ones and a mask might do. Covert operations with Anzai is a miss on those days, if only he was here, my plans are accurate. What a pain, what a hassle. I can just take everyone's pants off as I recall bumping on everyone today but it doesn't change the fact that, they may not even be in class. It will take a lot of calculations to do so, I have to analyze the mass, quantum, velocity, vector.... It's so cool, I'm already a genius thinking this ahead! HAHAHAHAHA

Jumper on the way! I appeared out of nowhere in the table, glomping Ria-sama; "Yagami Kaori-Janpā desu yo!" Oh I love the sound of that, the fire alarm. Let me explain this to you all. Before glomping Ria-sama, I made the decision to sound the alarm, destroy the evidence and frame it on selected few. The hammer should be hidden in someone's bag right now but that would take a lot of effort to pull. OH! Bonus points for breaking the fourth wall! AWESOME! Needless to say, I am great at this, Chaos is the Norm!

The Jumper unleashes chaos!

[User]
Dylan

Dylan held in a scream of pain as the cold water from the sprinklers hit his burns, turning around quickly turning around to see the familiar face of Yagami Kaori, one of the biggest trouble-makers he had the pleasure of knowing. Normally, he would be enjoying her little prank, as he enjoyed the rest of them, but given that he was covered with burns, being drenched in ice cold water without warning left his sense of humor sorely lacking.

"Kaori, this is your doing isn't it? And dammit Ria, could you put you clothes on for christ sake." A slight blush dusted his face as he saw the Level 5 in her underwear, but he didn't avert his gaze as he glared at the blonde trickster at her side.

[Assistant] For a long moment Wataru was sure he had offended the girl. Panicking slightly, he ran one hand through his hair, wondering if perhaps it was a mess or... Luckily her expression soon relaxed, at least a little bit. 'Otonashi-san, then? I look forward to studying together; let's have a good year.' Flashing a genuine smile, he mentally analysed the girl and her reactions; Otonashi was nervous, furtive. She seemed embarrassed by her level, which he could understand; most of their classmates would likely be 3s and 4s. Wataru himself was only a low level 3, so he could sympathise. 'Do you mind if I ask-' His question was cut off by the entrance of that blue woman, presumably their homeroom teacher. Giving Otonashi a friendly wink, Wataru faced forward and gathered his class materials. The lesson seemed interesting enough; he hadn't decided whether or not to participate in the hybrid program, but the theory behind magic sounded fascinating. Hoping to get right to grips with the mechanics, Wataru found himself slightly disappointed when a round of introductions began. He waited patiently, averting his eyes from Tsurura's antics and the general weirdness in the room; there were a ton of JUDGEMENT members present and they barely responded to the clear breach of school rules and basic human decency before them... He started resolutely ahead, awaiting his turn. When it finally came, he opened his mouth to speak... only to be cut off once again, this time by the screaming introduction of one Yagami... Wataru took a deep, bracing breath, stood and introduced himself in a dignified, if flat voice. 'Satou Wataru, JUDGEMENT and Student Council. I am a level 3 esper. And now...' He turned heavily to the errant student, his smile frozen. 'Yagami, is it? I have no doubt that we'll be seeing you a lot in the coming months...' He cocked his head, listening out for a school-wide announcement; if Hybrid Academy was anything like a normal school, the fire alarm would trigger a tannoy call confirming a fire. When none came he sighed deeply and turned to the front once more. 'Sorry Sensei, may I go to the faculty office to check this alarm? I am with JUDGEMENT, so I know the procedures.' Despite being satched though to the skin, Wataru kept his expression neutral and calm, in stark contrast to the irritation welling up inside. There was no immediate threat of fire, so most urgent was getting those damn sprinklers turned off...


[System]
BASIC
Goes By (Nicknames): Mel
Age: 2,500 approx.
Gender: Female
Race: Silvan Elf

APPEARANCE

Face Claim (Actor/Actress They're Played By): Ehh, she's never really had an actress per se, it's a drawn picture that I found on google that I use for her but it's just perfect for her xD)
Hair Color: Straw blonde
Eye Color: Ice blue
Skin Tone: Quite pale-porcelain-ish
Height: 6 ft
Weight: No idea tbh XD I'm no good at working out weights lol let's just say she weighs around what she's supposed to for her height
Build: Slender and tall like all of her kin, well-muscled with a strong/sturdy frame overall
Weapons: Bow (which was once her father's, was passed on to her when she was old enough to learn to shoot), Rapier, set of elven fighting knives

Overall Appearance:
Appearance + "Casual" Clothing (ignore the sword and the magic mist stuff, she doesn't have that xD) :

Armor:

Arm guards:

Bow:

Rapier:

Daggers:

PERSONALITY

Likes: The stars/star watching, spending time with her family, killing orcs etc.
Dislikes: Orcs and other such evil beings, watching her loved ones sad/suffering
Strengths: An excellent and swift fighter with both bow and blade, fiercely loyal and devoted to her family and loved ones, will always stand up for her beliefs and friends
Weaknesses: Headstrong and stubborn, does not always listen to others' advice or orders. Often impulsive and rushes into things before thinking of consequences.
Fears: Surviving severe injury but not being able to fight or look after herself properly, losing Legolas or Thranduil, being unable to have her own children someday

Overall Personality:
(huge paragraphs oops sorry-have a basic breakdown in case you don't feel like reading the whole thing xD)
Sarcastic | Untrusting | Loyal | Sharp-tongued/snappy | Compassionate | Sensitive

Mel is a witty, fairly sharp tongued and often sarcastic individual, she is wary of strangers and will take quite some time to trust most she meets, though those who have a child-like innocence about them seem to find her trust a lot easier. However her tough exterior does hide a soft and loving side deep down. To her family and close friends she is devoted and gentle, and would do anything for them. Losing someone that she cares deeply for affects her more than most perhaps, and it would take her a good few centuries on most accounts to reach the point where she can accept it fully and "move on" from it as well as she is capable. Indeed she still feels melancholy at thoughts of her passed relatives but can push it aside if the situation calls for it. Her sense of duty is unparalleled to most, and many a Mirkwood soldier who has served under her command has been known to describe Mel as "hard headed and as determined and foul-tempered as a Warg keeping hold of the last scrap of meat at mealtime". Once she has a job to do, she will not abandon it for any cause, no matter the consequences, until the task is completed.

Mel is extremely wary of dragons and would sooner attempt to kill one than converse with it, regardless of whether it approached her in a friendly manner or not. She has seen the ruin and death that dragons can bring, and indeed she will never forgive the beasts for tearing apart her family, to ask her to befriend one will be met with only contempt, bitterness and hate on her end. Other than dragons, there is very little that sparks enough fear in her to reduce her to a blubbering mess, as Mel is a particularly tenacious individual which is to be expected from someone who has grown up in a forest which has been steadily taken over by darkness and evil. Having to slay and fight with nests crawling with extremely large spiders on a daily basis means it's not exactly a "good idea" for lack of a better way to phrase it, to be afraid of them. However, anything larger than those spiders which she has experienced in Mirkwood is highly likely to leave her rather bemused and more than slightly concerned, as she has never confronted any arachnid of a larger size before in her life. In regards to how she responds to fear, even when Mel is scared to death she is not the type of individual to stand there literally quaking in her boots, whimpering and bawling. Instead she typically takes on the "rabbit in the headlights" kind of approach and tends to completely freeze up, totally unsure of whether to run away or fight whatever puts her in that position.

While she is by no means a "damsel in distress", nor does she necessarily act like a "spoilt princess", however she does occasionally act at rather 'high and mighty' as some may describe it, because of her well-off upbringing. Mel isn't a tantrum thrower by any stretch of the imagination, but she does at times react to things which displease her by pouting and/or sulking and then proceeding to make some sort of snide comment on the matter. Snide comments and sharp remarks are something Mel is never short of, which may come as a shock to some as they would expect someone of her upbringing to be "polite and lady-like", though she is far from it. She is not inherently rude all the time, and due to countless lessons from her aunt and uncle in her younger years she is perfectly capable of acting in a civil manner to form treaties, alliances and other such things, and is indeed even rather capable of sitting in on many political matters and being rather persuasive towards her own or her kingdom's need and win the opposing party over - even if it bores her to death! She does not take lightly to insults towards either herself or her family or kingdom, and unfortunately it doesn't take much to get her riled up. Mel is not unknown to take a swing or two at someone who overstepped their mark with her, though for the most part she tries her best to keep herself controlled and will usually just respond in turn with some other cutting remark towards the person who started the whole affair.

BACKGROUND

Date of Birth: I actually haven't been able to work it out exactly just yet XD it's a couple decades before Legolas', though ;)
Place of Birth: Mirkwood (well, back then it was still Greenwood but yeah XD)
Family Relations: Ardor (father, deceased) Thranduil (uncle), Legolas (cousin)

[User] Kili looked up as he heard someone speak to him and blinked at Maleficent, nodding. "Yes, my name is Kili." he confirmed. "Why do you ask? Do I know you?"

[Assistant] "I figured that I'd know you. And I think I do", Maleficent responded to him in her soft voice. "I think a long time ago that I've seen you. You were children, I think", she pondered in thought. "There was a woman with you. I think...her name was...Dis?", she guessed, trying to find the name of the dwarven woman she too has met.

[User] "My mother." the young dwarf confirmed with a nod at hearing the woman mention his mother's name. "We don't see her very much anymore, but Thorin looks after us."

[Assistant] That was her? It was all coming back to her now, but she finally had it. Widening her eyes, she looked at him. "I remember...", she began to say. "You're my godson, Kili, and your brother", she continued. "She told me that I'm your godmother", Maleficent concluded. "She chose me to be your co-parent when you were just infants", she nodded. "I ran. I figured thought I wasn't capable enough to actually watch a child"

[User] "Perhaps that is why I remember so little of you." the young dwarf suggested, his shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. "All the same, it's good to see you again...I think." he didn't want to be rude, but it seemed awfully strange to him for her to suddenly turn up out of nowhere and claim to be his godmother, he didn't know her in the slightest!

[Assistant] She already noticed and knew that he didn't know her in the slightest. It was true that he wouldn't. Who could know someone and know them if they barely have knew them? It was true that Maleficent didn't feel ready to approach them after the blessing, if she could remember. Plus, she barely stayed with them. How could she prove it? Probably stay with them at all times? Maybe not. Remind them of their mother? Perhaps. Say something that only they would know? There was really no logical evidence with her for proof. Memories were screaming at her in her sleep as well as seeing them everywhere. She looked away to the side. "Do you know what a godmother is?", she asked him in curiosity.

[User] "Someone who's supposed to look after us if our mother ever can't." Kili answered, his eyes watching the flames dance in the hobbit's fireplace. "But I don't think we need one, Thorin looks after us."

[Assistant] That hurt a little, but honestly, it was true. She was strong-willed, but not too strong. "What if he couldn't? How would you feel?", she curiously said before looking at the fire as well. It danced, and danced, like sprites on a flower. "Best for family to stay together, right? Like you and your brother", she finally chuckled for the first time in a while. It has been a while since she ever laughed since she has been here.

[User] A smile began to spread across the dwarf's features. "Yes, they should. Well, I guess if Thorin wasn't there we would need someone." he admitted eventually.

[Assistant] "Indeed", the winged female agreed with a smile on her lips. He was right; they would need someone if Thorin wasn't with them. At least she was warming up to him a little bit, and for that, he didn't push her away. Good start so far, she thought to herself. "If the mountain is what your kin wants, I will gladly help you get there", she promised him before turning to him. "All the way", she added.

[User] "You would do that?" Kili looked at her in surprise. "But...why? What's in it for you?" not that he didn't appreciate the offer of help. They'd probably need all the help they could get, after all they would have to go up against a dragon when they finally got to the mountain.

[Assistant] "I'll tell you one thing: it's not the gold", Maleficent softly joked and chuckled. It wasn't wealth that she wanted nor did it attract her interested. Not to mention that the greed to gold was disgusting to her. "Gandalf wanted me to redeem my past mistakes by doing something for someone else. Starting for me to help take you to the Lonely Mountain", she explained to his question.

[User] Curiosity niggled at the back of Kili's mind, wondering what past mistakes she could need to repent for. But if there was one thing his uncle had taught him it was that prying into sensitive parts of someone's past such as this was insensitive and shouldn't be done.

[Assistant]
Soon after, everyone was near the fire, and to Maleficent's ears, she could hear humming. It was something she believed that she heard during her time in the Lonely Mountain itself. She kept her place near Kili while the fire danced in front of her.

"Far over the misty mountains cold, to dungeons deep and caverns old. We must away, ere break of day, to find our long-forgotten gold. The pines were roaring along the heights, the winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, it's flame has spread, the trees like torches, blazed with light"

Unexpectedly, Maleficent was sleeping on the couch, and odd enough, the young dwarf was laying on her feathered wing. Not that she minded, she was happy they met the night before. Otherwise, she won't have anyone else to trust, apart from Gandalf.

When everyone was up, they were on the road, on ponies. She didn't have her horned headdress on at this time, since it was sunny and warm, and to also let her straight dark ashy-brown hair flow freely. She refused one since she preferred to walk, while holding onto one of the laces attached to Kili's pony. A few laughs they had, and she rarely talked to Fili. She didn't know why, but she would eventually get both to them into a friendship with her. It was sad that Bilbo declined to come, but she didn't blame him.

[User]
"I bet that the halfling will still turn up." Kili apoke aloud suddenly after the group had travelled in stony silence for a while.
"Oh aye? Are ye willin' tah put gold on that, laddie?" Dwalin retorted as he twisted in his saddle to look at the younger dwarf.
"I'll wager against you if you're up for it." Kili challenged.

[Assistant] Holding onto Kili's horse while walking beside him, Maleficent listened to Dwalin say something about a bet. "A bet?", she asked the youngest in a half-curious and half-confused tone. She was warming up to him in a friendly manner, and the fondness grew mutual between them. Still, she was learning about him and Fili. She hasn't seen them since the brothers were children, and they were already appearing like young dwarven men.

[User] "Yes, a bet." Kili confirmed, his attention turning to Maleficent then. "You know, you put up a wager of gold coins, whatever all the participating parties agree on, and whoever turns out to be right about whatever you're betting on gets all the coins." the dwarf explained.

[Assistant] Maleficent listened to Kili's explanation about Dwarven betting. It sounded fair, nor was the concept itself greedy. She nodded with a smile and looked up to him. "So, if I say that if we make it to the mountain alive, you would owe me?", she teased with a chuckle.


[System]
Gender: Female
Age: 29
Race: Imp

Appearance:  She's quite feathery, and her markings can glow, generally at will though also if stressed.
Height and Weight: 3'4" and 40 pounds

Weapons/Items: A sack containing 50 feet of rope, 25 iron nails, a sturdy rock, five emptied and cleaned shells, a flask of alcohol, candle wicks, five prepared small bombs, and a piece of quartz.

Skills: Ekra is capable of crafting small explosives using the materials on her person. However, these bombs cannot inflict much damage, though they are sufficient to stun and are easily thrown. She is also capable of crafting and concealing simple traps, tracking others even on stone due to her familiarity with the ruin grounds, and differentiating between plant types. Also, she seems immune to pain.

Abilities: Imps, as a race, are very quick creatures, able to turn on a dime. They possess no self-beneficial magical abilities but between their speed, deftness, and sleight of hand, they are capable of appearing to turn invisible. In addition to their speed, they naturally produce a venom in their saliva which disorients an enemy.

Magic: Imps can feed off of magic, thus tending to attract them to spellcasters; however, they are also easily bound to items. These items can grant them some magical properties but also can force an imp to curb their mischievous nature and serve the one who bound them.

Personality: Ekra, like most imps, is quite curious about the going-ons of others and chatty. She jokes quite a bit and doesn't seem to take much seriously. Also like most imps, she's fairly lonely and tries to compensate by reaching out to others. Between her inability to register pain and her lack of empathy in general, however, her efforts haven't amounted to much and she doesn't seem interested in changing them.

Bio: Ekra is an imp from the ruins outside of Crumbleport. She's wandered in and out of town to play with any unattended children and set up jokes, but her nature has resulted in many an angry worker and parent seeking her demise. She spends most of her time in the ruins, targeting would-be explorers and archaeologists.

[User]
To say that Isabel stood on the edge of the ruins would be inaccurate, because the ruins never ended. All of Crumbleport was an amalgamation of ruined, ancient structures, tumbledown but more recent buildings, and brand new construction. The "ruins" stretched from the coast, well into the jungle, and as Crumbleport shared no borders with other principalities, nobody had ever bothered to define exactly where it ended.

And yet Isabel stood on the edge of something. Maybe it wasn't the edge of the ruins, and maybe it wasn't the border of Crumbleport, but it was some imaginary line. Some line that, it was understood, marked the barrier between safety and uncertainty. It looked no different from the rest of the town. There was no line, no sudden dropping or even a sudden increase in foliage. Nearest anyone could figure, the watchtower stretching out of the trees to her right(held up more by magic than by mortar these days) was the furthest one could walk without being prepared for danger.

Isabel was as prepared for danger as she could be. She had practiced a few spells, and the Bottle on her back had just one prepared spell preserved inside of it. It was a kinetic field, which she could activate at a moment's notice, to protect her from attack, or a structural collapse or something like that. The rest of the Bottle's cells she left empty, to capture ancient magic for further study. She also carried a brand new leather bound notebook, held on a chain from her belt, to keep track of anything she needed to notate. Currently the only words in it were the day's date at the top of the first page. She wished she could bring a scribe student. When working at the University, there was an abundance of scribes in training who were perfectly willing to write down anything you said just to practice their calligraphy. But none were willing to go where she was going.

Isabel took a final breath of safe air and then stepped forward, eyes scanning wildly around as she did so. When nothing happened, she took another step, and another. She smiled, pulled her notebook from her side and wrote:

"Three steps in. Not dead yet."

Then she continued walking.

[Assistant]
Devon watched Isabel head off. He shook his head with a smug smirk. They won't likely see that one alive again.

That was how life was in crumbleport. They stood on the grounds of untold evil waiting to grab you at every turn.

Devon wasn't afraid though, evil was supposedly in his blood. In his lineage. He was looking for the answers, but he needed to go looking to know for sure what the truth really was.

He strode through the ruins deciding it best to head to the tavern. It was run by dwarves to no ones surprise. It was called "The Stone Cellar" and it was very popular. He could use a drink of rum right about now.

[User] Jack sat inside 'The Stone Cellar' at a table by himself. He had several documents about the ruins of Crumbleport. Deciding where to start is one thing but it's best to learn about the place before stepping in. Learning of its origin may help get an idea of what to expect and better prepare yourself. He was looking through them wondering where to start and what horrendous beasts he would find down in the ruins, especially on the deeper levels when it really gets underground. "This place really is more than just a maze isn't it. The entire place was covered in ruins. Choosing a place to start was deffinetly a tough decision. One misstep and it was over. Jack looked around to see others that looked like they wanted to check out the ruins. Some were here for the treasure, some for knowledge, and someay even find great power. Jack was looking for the ancient secrets hidden within. Who knows what lurked within those ruins. Jack was waiting and preparing for his long journey into the ruins of Crumbleport.

[Assistant]
Devon sat at the bar, ordering himself some rum to drink. Looking behind himself, the pale man noticed Jack immediately.

He stood out like a sore thumb, his armor, and his documents scattered about before him. This man wanted to explore by the looks of things.

The thought had crossed Devon's mind immediately; he needed someone to travel with. Devon needed a party of his own if he intended to be successful. Being lost wasn't something he was used to, but all the same, he didn't want to be alone when he tried to discover his true lineage.

Devon must have been staring for quite some time as he noticed a few people glance in his direction. Devon turned and took a drink of his rum. He wasn't sure he wanted to bother the knight, but in the same instance, he was curious if he'd help.


[System]
Appearance: Like all Astartes, Nergüi is of superhuman proportions, his height, weight and muscle-mass far outdoing that of even the largest Guardsman as he towers above them being nearly eight feet tall in height due to his power armour. His face, the only part of his body commonly seen, is hard and expressionless with the outward appearance of an elderly man with his long grey hair cut and tied into a nomadic top-knot, his facial hair the thin moustache and wispy goatee commonly seen among the White Scars set against tanned flesh, bearing ritually made scars below his eyes and across his cheeks . The almond-shaped eyes of a deep hazel colour, stuck in dark eye-sockets are what makes people realise how much he has seen and how much he knows, holding both wisdom and a look of violence within them.

Age: 275

Sex: M

Class: Deathwatch (White Scars) Apothecary (Emchi)

Equipment:

* A suit of archaic and battered but slightly modified Mark VI "Corvus" armour, painted in the traditional black colours of the Deathwatch, taken from a predecessor of the pre-heresy White Scars and gifted to the current Chapter. The suit has been modified to include the mandatory silver shoulder pad of the Watch, Helix shapes against a white background adorn the armour at several points as do eagles, the right shoulder-guard retaining the yellow lightning bolt-on-red and stark white of his Chapter.
* Diagnostor Helmet - The helmet is shaped in the conventional form of a beaked Mark VI helm, yet contains upgraded Auto-senses and readouts to assist with their charge of treating the injured and maintaining their Battle-Brothers' ( and any others) physical combat readiness.
* Narthecium - The tool of an Apothecary's trade, a Narthecium contains implements specially designed for Space Marine physiology and for performing first aid without having to remove the patient's Power Armour. It also comprises various counterseptics, skin patches, transfusions and other compounds engineered for the Space Marines' physiology, and several stasis tubes for storing recovered gene-seed.
* Reductor - Retrieval and storage of a fallen Battle-Brother's gene-seed is so critical that Apothecaries carry a special tool for this operation. While a Reductor is not required for Progenoid removal, it significantly reduces the time. This surgical implement fastens under the wrist. It includes a monomolecular saw for penetrating Power Armour and Ossmodula-enhanced rib cages, and a diamantine-tipped extractor drill.
* Mk III Pattern bolt pistol
* Power-sabre – A power weapon utilising a curved blade, shaped after the traditional sabres wielded by the steppe nomads of Chogoris. It is rarely used, as he is an Apothecary after all, but when it is it is put to death-dealing with a deadly effect.
* One Frag and one Krak grenade

Notable Deeds:

* The Diata Purge: Under the direction of Kyublai Khan, Nergüi joined the campaign with the rest of his Chapter against various Chaos Renegades; he saved many of his Brothers during the bloodshed, as well as some from the allied Marauders Chapter. Great deeds were done during this hunt, though not glorious ones by this Apothecary.
* Battle for Grase Mesa: Nergüi was part of the Land Speeder mounted cadre that took the fight to the Eldar of Yme-Loc, joining his brethren in their flanking attacks on the lithe xenos, personally accounting for over a dozen Eldar scalps and heads.
* Third War for Armageddon: Everyone knows about this war, and there are so many tales of daring do that it would be impossible to tell them all here. Needless to say, Apothecary Nergüi of the Firefist Brotherhood (2nd Company) impressed someone with extreme authority, an Inquisitor no less, and it was requested that he be seconded to the Deathwatch of the Ordo Xenos – an honour he could not refuse.
* Classified: Ever since 'taking the black', his pure white going to the deep dark of his adopted 'Chapter', the tasks and deeds that this Apothecary has performed, the biological agents he has worked with, and the operations he has conducted are classified – only those with the highest authority able to know even a fraction of what he has been through.

[User] Misspost.

[Assistant]
"Where's dat explosion coming from? I didn't tell the boyz to blow something up yet!" 'Big Mek' Graz "Hugkilla" grunted as he walked across the ruined half-open top of an imperial warehouse building; his junk cybernetic leg slamming into the floor with every step; before watching out across the industrialized skyline of the forge world to see a plume of multi-colored smoke rise up from the distance.

"Dat was where the southern sky gun was, boss!" Sounded the raspy, nasally voice of a gretchin frantically typing away at a janky typewriter, one oversized headset situated over the gretchin's smaller head.

"WOT?" Graz exclaimed, turning around.

"The boys loaded the shells the wrong way again, didn't they?!"

"I dunno, boss! But it definitely went boom! Lots of highly Orky sources say it went boom!"

"THOSE ARE MINE GUBBINS!" Graz exclaimed, turning around as he walked towards the edge.
"WOTS THA POINT OF STEALING THOSE 'UMIE GUNS IF DA BOYS ARE JUST GONNA WRECK 'EM!?! Grrrr... "

Graz stepped onto the edge of the building, having to push his own bloated guts inwards in order to look down at the amassed Ork buggies and motorcycles below, most of the boyz either busy trying to make vague attempts at fixing their vehicles, whilst the rest seemed busy leading a particularly ornery squig around with a snotling attached to a stick as live bait!

"Oi! Listen up you daft speed grotz!" Graz called out.
"Someone just blew up my big gun just south of here, past dat big mechanical-human-statue-thingy! I want you boyz to go down there and beat the snot outta anyone you find at the site, gottit?!"

"Zog off, we're busy!" One of the Orks called back.

"Graah... if I was down there, I'd be busting your heads right about now... but since the stairs are so zogging long. Alright, the first git at the site will get my completely new Engine Boostah 3000!!"

Almost in an instant, as if Graz had just said the magic word, the boyz beneath froze up, looked at him; and after a brief second of silence (minus the terrified screams of the snotling bound to the stick), the Orks suddenly threw themselves past each other in a wild race to get onto their various buggies and motorcycles, loud blaring engine noises and a few random slugga shots for good measures; as no less than a dozen decked-out Ork vehicles suddenly rolled out from the courtyard in a race towards the site of the explosion, flames and sparks gushing from their loud engines as they waved their weapons about!

And behind them came the lone squig hopping up and down in a wild chase, still trying to catch up with the snotling which had now been attached to one of the carts!

"Heh, work every time... stupid gits!" Graz "Hugkilla" chuckled, moving his wrist-mounted flamethrower up to his mouth to light a giant cigar.

[User]
Vala had the most irritated expression on her face that was nicely hidden behind the mask of her helmet. She just watched in complete absurdity how these imperium fools were destroying valuable technology they could simply disable and then reuse later after they clean up the Orks. So what if they killed a handful of Orks now. A few orks for a anti air turret of this caliber was a MASSIVE DAMNED WASTE. No longer she the imperium was in this state. They didn't value what they had and destroyed everything just cause it's convinient and later when they would need these guns, they would be without them and then they will simply exterminatus the planet cause it's convinient and there goes another habitable world with it's resources...

 She had to struggle with the overwhelming urge to shoot the psyker right in the head, but held it. The mess was big enough already. She just sighed, flicking the switch on her las cannon from firing mode to standby, it automatically folded up some parts, making it a lot easier to carry.

 The order to get the hell out before the greenskins show up was given so she didn't waste any time in doing so. 'I wonder if not dying on the interrogation table was a blessing or a curse after all...' She thought in her mind.

[Assistant]
Ansgar knew damn well who wasn't able to bring down their target, but unlike the irritation that was resounding in a certain sister's voice, the Krieger kept his peace. Ordering a man with a shotgun to snipe an Ork was folly, and the fact it wasn't taken into consideration that one of them would have to bring down two targets was on the lot of them, not just the Arbites. With that, that nagging sensation of ethereal warp power was again resonating and it took a concentrated amount of focus to not turn his weapon on the psyker just in case. While salvaging the gun would have been nice, in the grand scheme of things they lacked the manpower to secure, move, and man the weapon. So better to destroy the weapon emplacement than risk the Orks getting it back up and running, and make do with what resources they had as they needed them later on.

Sweeping his surroundings with the Type XIV (Heavy), the Krieger did not safe his weapon, continuing to monitor their surroundings as the orders were given. Get moving before the retaliation was going to happen.

"Waking up means the Emperor is not done with you, so it is a blessing." Leave it to Ansgar, a man of Krieg, to see the fact that they yet lived as little more than Emperor's providence to continue doing his work. Considering their mentality, Kriegers that is, it was hardly surprising.

[User]
Herold had thought he would have gotten used to the chaotic warp magic of the Psyker, but feeling the tingle of his skin and the odd feeling in his gut, he knew he had been mistaken. The explosion of the gun and the Ork was well placed, but it had announced their location a bit too much for his liking. Still, unless the Sororitas ordered him to unload his combat shotgun into the Psyker, then they were stuck with her still. He could tell that the others had to visibly hold themselves back from what he was just considering.

"Agreed," Herold said to both Aviza and the Death Korp trooper. "Let's get moving." He made sure for the umpteenth time that his weapon was locked and loaded, and he started to head out of the room they were in with the others. He kept his shield on his back to guard against flanking shots, and his shotgun in his hands and at the ready. He had an inkling feeling that the explosion was about to bite them in the ass somehow, but Emperor's mercy, they'd see soon enough.

[Assistant]
"I had my shield for that, I'd be fiiiiine." Adrianne said through her mask as she got back up on her feet, brushing some dirt and grime off her armor and suit.

It was currently raining, and fortunately, the dirt and mud didn't attach itself so easily to her suit or metal armor. As for her cloth however, that was a different story entirely.

"This is a forge world. I suppose I should feel lucky I'm not wading through pools of industrial waste I suppose... !"

"Agreed, Celestian. I can already feel the growing anger and anticipation echo back from the warp to this place. We have made the surrounding greenskins excited." Adrianne explained as she followed Aviza back to where the rest of the group were currently keeping overwatch.

The constantly dripping of rain against her helmet and surrounding force works and buildings made it difficult to notice any lesser sounds, yet the Psyker could already hear off in the distance the low but booming sounds of ramshackled engines and gunfire, slowly coming closer towards their position!

"The Orks are on the move. We can simply bypass them, or set up an ambush. The greenskins are nothing if not predictable."


[System]
Age: 22

Gender: Male

Personality: Blayze seems to be a child trapped in an old person's body at times. He loves to mess around and pull jokes on people. He will be your best friend and will be as loyal to you as he can. He can sometimes be very quiet when you first meet him, but he opens up pretty quickly. He can be serious and whenever he is, he gets whatever things are commanded of him done. He does not disobey a direct order from the Queen and will never ever betray her. He has this quirk to where he cannot actually directly disobey an order from a person in charge of him. He feels a moral obligation to carry out every command that he could from that person, no matter if it is the captain or the Queen or the Princess. He would do anything that they told him to do.

Role/Title: He is a noble knight to the true Queen of Waylox. He is much untrained at close, hand to hand or sword, fighting, but he is an amazing archer and can make almost impossible shots for a normal archer. He can even shoot riding backwards on a horse. He began to get better at sword fighting after his father died

History: Blayze grew up inside Waylox during the Royal Family's reign. Every time they had a public appearance, he and his family were there. His father was a knight before him and this is what inspired Blayze to become a knight himself. His father was a knight who protected the former Queen and King (This Queen's Parents) and he began to teach Blayze sword fighting when he was about six years old. Blayze's mother was a seamstress working in the lower levels of the castle. She caught a deadly sickness from one of the pieces that she had been working on for the young Queen when he was ten years old and died on his eleventh birthday.

After his mother's death, his father threw himself headlong into protecting the newborn Princesses of the Queen and King and began to ignore Blayze more often. He would come home tired and fall immediately to sleep, not saying one thing to Blayze. He would ignore Blayze for most of the day and when Blayze asked him, he would say painfully, "You look too much like your mother for me to look at you." This hurt Blayze very much and he began to train harder than ever so his father would not see his mother and rather see him as a man himself.

Once the former King and Queen died, his father protected the new Queen until his last breath. His father died inside their house and was completely alone. Blayze had been out training with a few of the other younger knights when his father came home and practically collapsed on the ground. Blayze's father died of natural causes when Blayze was only seventeen. Blayze then took up his father's place in the Queen's army and began to protect the new Queen himself. He worked hard every day, even training in his periods of free time throughout the day. He wanted to make his father as proud as he could. He knew his father would watch over himself as he began to work beside the Queen. He began to refine his sword fighting skills as well as his archery skills. He began to get better and better every day.

When the Queen needed protection from the tyrant known as Ovorion, Blayze was one of the first to step up. He knew that this was the moment that he had been waiting for his whole life: the way that he could make his father proud. He would protect the Queen until his last breath, like his father had done before he had died. They escorted her away into the night and Blayze was mostly the one helping to train the Queen and Princess in combat before they could come back to the castle and claim it back for the right of her Majesty herself. He taught them everything he could, ranging from archery to hand-to-hand combat, sword fighting to knife throwing, anything that had to do with combat he taught them. He would stay up late at night keeping watch outside and almost never sleep. He even forgot to eat meals sometimes. He was dedicated to the two royalty.

Anything extra: Blayze has a slight, very small crush on the Queen, but he ignores it because he knows that it will put both himself and the Queen and Princess in danger.

[User]
Winter had already been in the tavern for several hours when the exiled queen walked in. She'd set up shop at a back table, with book in hand so as to discourage conversation from the other patrons (not that it worked, necessarily) and enough coin for a meal so the barkeep wouldn't shoo her away. Winter picked at her soup every now and then, eyes trained on the pages of her book as she used her other senses to scan the raucous patrons (someone had apparently just purchased drinks for everyone in the establishment. The resulting cacophony made Winter want to roll her eyes). So far her target had yet to arrive.

Winter was very practiced at looking the part of an unassuming young woman – she was small of stature, had youthful features, and knew how to keep her voice soft and her eyes down. This was a good skill to have as an assassin. It wasn't very good for a woman in such a crass town, however, especially one of "exotic" birth. Already she'd had to brush away advances (some courteous, some… not) from no less than four men. One of them had actually been forward enough to grab her arm, no doubt bruising the skin hidden under her sleeve. It had taken Winter all she could muster not to take her hidden blade to the pulsing artery on his fat, greasy neck. But she'd taken a breath, widened her eyes in a practiced look of fear, and glanced around the tavern until she caught the eye of one of the barmaids who came to shoo the man away. Winter could still feel his poisoned glare on her face as he looked from across the tavern. No doubt he'd be back soon… He was a proud, entitled man, in spite of the tattered rags he wore like clothes.

Skies above, they better arrive before I kill him. It wouldn't do to blow her cover before the job had even begun.

And as though someone had heard her prayer, the door to the tavern opened and in walked the exiled queen herself. Even dirty and hidden in this forgotten, unfortunate town, she carried herself as one would at court. Winter knew the look well – she'd seen it born on many nobles before she'd killed them.

Winter felt her breath catch in her throat. Her blood pounded in her ears and all she could do was stare at the fallen Queen Rhysin. Pale blonde hair tied back in a braid, head held high, smooth skin taught over lean muscle that betrayed her recent hardships… Winter was overwhelmed, for lack of a better term. In that moment, all she could think was how badly she wanted to kill the queen then and there, her rage like a wildfire igniting her blood.

She left us to die. It was the phrase that had echoed in her head ever since Ovorion had first approached her with this proposition.

Book forgotten on the table, Winter pushed herself up. She'd spent enough years to hide her emotions under a blank mask, though she couldn't help how pale her face was, her blood drained away. With careful, measure movement, she pushed her chair in with a shaking hand and took a step towards the queen.

And that was as far as she got before the man from before shoved himself directly in her path. Winter no longer had the patience to control herself, and deftly stepped out of his reach when he made a grab for her again. Coating her voice in the thickest Qiran accent she could manage, she mumbled, "Excuse me," and continued towards Rhysin. In the moment Winter had been distracted, the queen had been approached by another man. She caught the end of his acid-dipped words as she came close.

He knows who she is too… apparently there is no love lost.

Knowing full well that he might be another out for Rhysin's head (not that she would blame him) Winter made sure to place herself just the smallest bit between the man and the queen when she stopped.

"H-hello," she said, her voice shaking. Her mask was well-crafted, but Winter's fury was an ugly, gnashing thing, crying to be freed. Her face betraying none of this, Winter glanced over her shoulder at the man still glaring at her. At least the oaf was good for explaining away her quivering words. "You are who we wait for, yes?" She glanced between the younger man and Rhysin, her hands still shaking, itching for her knives. "I… I'm sorry, I don't know the protocol for this."

[Assistant]
Rhysln didn't know what she was expecting from the turnout but she knew she hadn't been expecting that. What language! Before she could even muster a retort, another stepped between them, a young lady who seemed anxious, and wary of the man behind her. She used to believe that people didn't have bad intentions from the start but her new found experiences had her backing up from the girl, leaving just enough space for a different blonde to place herself there.

"Indeed she is," she crossed her arms, "Now who are you two?" she looked back at the man, "Oi, fatty, si'down, your company is clearly not wanted," she said before hearing the throat clearing behind her.

"Nautica, is addressing everyone in such a manner really necessary?" Rhysln said, shaking her head.

"It is. You're under no obligation to be nice to these people. Niceness to strange people offering to help is what landed us here," Nautica reminded her and Rhysln made a face that clearly said she did not want to be reminded of that face.

Nautica was shorter than her sister, understandable with the age difference, and her hair was a bit longer since she hadn't cut it nearly as short. Her features in general were clearly younger but Nautica didn't have that weary edge to her. She had transitioned well enough and the behavior of the people around her had influenced her more than her years of training in court. And unlike her sister, she never trusted anyone until they proved they earned it. Which with one addressing her sister with such crass rudeness and the other seeming shifty at best, she was not about to trust them.

Nautica turned back to the strangers and pointed at the table where Throm was sitting, "Have a seat. I'll personally pierce his hand if he comes over here so stop being twitchy. I don't trust it," she said, crossing her arms under her chest, "And if you ever talk to my sister that way again, I'll split your tongue. We clear?" she narrowed her eyes at Throm, "Now. Who are you and why are you actually interested in helping us?" she demanded.

Rhysln sighed again, rubbing her forehead. Leave it to Nautica to believe she was to fill the role of the knights in their absence. She wasn't going to interrupt her since they did need to know who they were and why they were there, but she did wish her sister wouldn't talk in such a way. That was something she was going to have to work on when they had the luxury of time to worry about it. For now, she gave her sister a chastising and warning look, only to get waved off.

Nautica knew a lot of people got the wrong ideas about their family's rule in general, especially her sister. Nautica mentioned it to the Captain that she was sure people would come crawling from the woodwork that blamed Rhysln for their people's suffering at the hands of Ovorion. He was sure he'd catch that before it happened, but he wasn't here and he wasn't perfect. She wasn't going to let anyone try and dismantle the Silverspring's rein over some false idea that they were at all prepared for what happened. The Silversprings had fought to bring peace to the country, fought to keep Caradia's fingers out of their business, working a mutual understanding with their Empress. Nautica was almost tempted to write her to ask for aid, but Rhysln insisted they had to be the one's to get back the throne otherwise no one would support the rule.

So if they had to go about it this way, then Nautica was going to make sure those in her sister's company belonged there. She narrowed her eyes again at the two and put her hands on her hips rather than crossing her arms. Rhysln sighed and looked to the door hearing the voices outside, almost not surprised to see the lord and his men entering, "Lord Corbray, you've returned," she said, "I'm relieved to see you are well. Yet again we are in your gratitude," she smiled lightly, bowing her head, "Hopefully we shall be out of your hair soon enough and stop endangering this good town and your people."


[System]
Species:
Human

Gender:
Male

Age:
26

Rank:
Knight (Specialization: Consular)

Lightsaber Forms:
* Shii-Cho
* Soresu
* Trakata

Equipment:
* Lightsaber (green)
* Jedi Robes

Appearance:

Personality:
Damar is inquisitive and curious at heart, but over the years has been tempered so that his impulses to find an answer don't lead him down the wrong path...still, some of his constant debating with his fellows over what the code of the Jedi, their place in the universe, and other such concepts really mean have placed him under careful watch of the Council more than once. He maintains contact with his Master and often goes to him when he feels that he is being tempted, or wants advice about how to find his answers.

He meditates and repeats the Jedi Code often, and is a good and noble soul, but perhaps too quick to argue--not out of anger, but out of a desire to make himself and his reasoning clear, and to understand the other's viewpoint. However, poking and prodding at other people's ideas and beliefs is a surefire way to make them defensive or hostile, and thus he often finds himself having to quickly excuse himself and back away else a conflict break out, which is the opposite of what he wants.

One of his greatest shortcomings, however, is that he struggles with anger despite how well he may hide it. It often goes unnoticed, because his ire is roused by one thing: evil. To spare an evildoer, to let them live, to offer forgiveness and redemption to them after what they have done...this is often hard for him. He is self-aware of this fact, and struggles with it whenever such moments arise. To fall to the Dark Side out of misplaced aggression is one of his greatest fears, and so he goes out of his way to maintain the Light Side within himself at all costs--perhaps to an impractical degree.

Biography:
Born on Tatooine, Damar grew up an impoverished orphan who had to steal and fight to survive. Yet he knew what he was doing was wrong, and was caught many times out of a subconscious desire to pay for his crimes and be something better than a thief who lies to themselves to make what they do seem right. At some point, a Jedi Master passing through noticed his Force sensitivity, a powerful Light Side pull in one who, by all circumstances, should have been an angry and desperate individual. Damar was taken to the Council, and his training began. A decade and some years later, he finally became a fully fledged Jedi in his own right, though he lacked a great deal of field experience as he had spent a great deal of time in the libraries and archives studying, and in the Academy chambers training and meditating.

When Revan began to insist upon addressing the Mandalorian threat directly, Damar sat and listened intently to both sides of the debate as it raged throughout the halls of the Jedi, with some taking one side or another and others remaining neutral. He even went to his old Master to debate the issue himself, wanting to understand all parties. He learned, mostly through rumor, that the Council wished to avoid a direct conflict because they feared that, with their current sparse information, that they may be walking into a trap. Dark tidings were rippling through the Force, and the Mandalorian's activities did not fit with their usual methods. It was felt that something bigger was at work, behind the scenes.

But the fact remained that people were dying. Revan wished to stop the carnage, and to assist the Republic that had long been an ally of the Jedi. Perhaps out of a wish to temper the more hotheaded of those who would follow the charismatic Revan, and perhaps out of a wish to see the conflict first hand and gather more information for himself before making a final decision, Damar decided to go to the front lines. After making this decision for himself, he heard that Revan's party would be giving a speech to many of the younger Jedi. Deducing that this would likely be some form of campaign to split from the Council, he decided to attend, and hopefully, fulfill his own goals while keeping others from getting too out of hand.

Other:
Because of his constant inquisitive nature, wanting to know all variables of a situation, Damar's senses are keenly developed both physically and within the Force. His ability to sense his environment in multiple dimensions is such that he often seems to "have eyes in the back of his head."

[User]
Damar
Coruscant - Processional Way
Alek's Rally

---

Damar leaned against a pillar, and looked around at so many of the others who had raised their sabers. Some he recognized, and knew to be considered by most just as impulsive as Revan and Alek. Others he knew to be wiser, but they were concerned with justice, with protecting the innocent. Still others were simply swept up by the energy of the crowd, not thinking clearly, only carried forward by the tide of emotions all around them. The Force was thick with it--which should not be so, not in the halls of the High Council.

"There is no Emotion, there is Peace." Damar said to himself, before he pushed away from the pillar and began making his way through the crowd. He rarely brushed against anyone, though his eyes were focused only on Alek and Revan; he always seemed to know when to change his step, or turn his shoulder slightly, to avoid bumping into the others. Soon he emerged from the throng and stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the two who had brought this call to arms together.

"Knight Alek, I mean no disrespect," he began, with a slight bow of the head, "But how do you propose to stop the Mandalorians? To work with the Republic as our Order has for so long, to defend ourselves from attackers, I feel these things are right and true. But to fight a war, would this not be to bring the same carnage to our enemies as they have brought to other worlds? If we were to cut down Mandalorians without mercy upon a battlefield, would this not go against the Jedi Code? Even they, as brutal and evil as their actions have been, deserve to be treated honorably--do they not?" He called out loudly, to make his voice heard. His words might have sounded like a challenge, but what he really wanted was to hear Alek and Revan's plans. He wouldn't make a judgement this early, not without more information. He had spoken with his Master at length, but never had he heard this side of the story from the originators. He only hoped that, should his words be taken the wrong way--as they often were--that it wouldn't lead to further escalation of emotion. Right now, he could feel palpable anger coming from Revan, and jubilation from Alek as the man watched the stirring in the crowd his speech had caused. Both of them were talented and ambitious young men...but a fall to the dark side could come to anyone, no matter their abilities. Perhaps even more easily, the more assured one was in their immunity to it.

[Assistant]
[Vijjo]

---

 The Council's lack of action only furthered Vijjo's desire to move against the Mandalorians. The horrific stories he'd heard from the survivors of the attacks on top of his established perception of Mandalorians made him grit his teeth in anticipation. He'd grown up with a distaste put in his mouth towards Mandalorians by his family and culture. "Brutes" they'd be described as. The eye witness accounts of their actions were more than enough to support that generalization. People were dying, Jedi and civilians alike. Vijjo's lips cracked into a slight grin as he convinced himself that the Council would eventually take action against the Mandalorian Campaign.

There's no way we can just sit here as if nothing's going on.

 As if an answer, he heard a somewhat familiar voice calling out nearby. Vijjo interrupted his walk to see what the commotion was all about. Preachy. Taking a spot towards the back of the crowd, Vijjo smiled as he listened to Alek express exactly what he'd just been thinking. His light expression hardened as he was reminded of the Council's failure to react to the Mandalorian threat. He found himself nodding along, slowly, at first, then more and more, he realized he let out a slight yell of agreement as his hand moved to imitate the sabers being raised around him. Vijjo couldn't bear much longer of inaction. He knew people out there needed him, and the grim truth was that the Council was not seeking to answer the Galaxy's cry for help. For now, he had a lot of thinking to do.

 Vijjo noticed the one man moving deliberately from his place by the pillar towards the two atop the stairs. He noted the man's cautious movements and wondered if his personality reflected those careful motions - as was generally the case. Nevertheless, nobody else had made any sort of move toward the two jedi, and this man caught his attention. Vijjo realized he had come up to speak to them, and decided he felt a bit nosy. All he wanted to do was learn more about the situation outside of the Temple and figured he could stay and listen a while to what the three had to say. Slowly, Vijjo inched closer towards the front, merging and moving with the crowd until he was within earshot. He slightly turned his head as if to seem uninterested, but pointed his ear towards Revan and the jedi.

 "Knight Alek..." Vijjo continued to listen.

---

[User]
Lowering his saber at the approach of a fellow Knight, Alek listened to his case. "You have righteous concerns, but I think you misunderstand our purpose. We do not seek to slaughter them, but to stop their advances. There are ways to defeat enemies without such brutality, and while this is a conflict that goes beyond what words can fix, we can defeat them without a vicious massacre. We are not invaders, but defenders. They have the right to live in peace on Mandalore, their homeworld, but they do not hold the right to attack the rest of this galaxy as they have.

"This is why we will fight this war alongside the Republic. We will combat this enemy as nobly as we can to protect and retake what is rightfully the Republic's. We are not tyrants, dear companion. Please understand us. Our ranks would be in need of one noble as you. Many here would fight with vengeance in their hearts, but you have mercy. You could become a great General for the Republic. Perhaps even greater than Revan or I. I have no doubt of that.

"While glory is not the goal we seek, I see a much needed ally in your compassion for nobility. So tell me, would you be so kind as to lend us your strength? The Republic will be here with a vessel to transport this Jedi Templar within a matter of hours. There is little time to waste."

[Assistant]
Damar
Coruscant - Processional Way
Alek's Rally

---

"Such was my intent from the beginning." Damar said, nodding. "I had already decided that I must head to the front lines, to see for myself what is happening in the galaxy firsthand, to make an informed decision. If I could be of any help by accompanying you, then I shall do so." He bowed again, then raised his own saber, gripping its black leather wrapped hilt lightly. With a flick of the power switch the bright green blade bloomed into existence with its distinctive sound, something like the sound of electricity coursing through wire yet with hints of flame burning through air. He saluted Alek and Revan with it, before turning off the blade and returning it to his belt. "May the Force be with us all." he said, before turning and walking back into the crowd.

It wasn't long, however, before he spoke again--this time to another Jedi in the crowd.

"May I ask what you are looking at, over there?" Damar smiled knowingly. Turning one's head and looking away, while keeping an ear out, would work in most cases. But in this one, with all the crowd so focused on Revan and Alek and there being so little else going on around the Procession Way, turning away from the focal point of all the attention only made one stand out all the more. As Damar stood next to Vijjo's side, at a respectful distance, he folded his arms over his chest and began to watch the rest of the crowd.

"Were you listening as well?" he asked, in a lower voice. "Their hearts are perhaps in the right place...but why a General of the Republic, rather than a Jedi Master? Why mention glory at all, if one meant to be unconcerned with it?"