[System]
Lans the Ghukzoul
Age: 41
Race: Orc
HP: ❇❇❇
SP: ❇❇
Job: Terror Knight lvl 5 (knights purposed for lowering morale and efficiently...and almost theatrically brutally... killing their enemies)
Magical Affinity: Metal lvl 2
Curse: Curse of Kraxiel lvl 1

AppearanceTypical of Orcs, Lans is 6'5'', well built, and green-skinned. His thick hair resembles more the wool of sheep than the threads of weaving.

However, Lans stands straighter and more posed than most Orcs. His braided hair and well-kept armor defy preconceived notions of Orcish brutality and barbarism. His tusks appear to be filed down but with the precision of a woodcarver rather than the typical jagged wear from harsh bites from days past.

And, certainly unlike other Orcs, he is almost never seen without his upper garments on. But if you were to see him so, you would notice the tattoos that go down his back along his spine… and if you're lucky, you could make them out as some runes.

Lans' posture gives off the distinct feeling that he is challenging you… that he has something to prove. But his experience in physical combat also manifests in his composure and tends to keep him free of brawls and minor altercations. Perhaps due to this, he seems to lack the scars normally found all over the tough hide of Orc warriors. And considering his age, he should be littered with dozens.
PersonalityOften described as a gentleman, Lans demonstrates the best of aristocratic etiquette and mannerisms. As such, he is neither too forward nor too timid. He is courteous, kind, and listens intently to any and all conversation.

But those who know him well, know that this is just his upbringing. In a more private setting, his coarser language and fondness for crude jokes would reassure all that he is, in fact, an Orc. His appetite for direct dialogue and getting to the reason for every interaction would put off most dignitaries and guests.

And his appetite does not end there. Truly, if he were the incarnate of any sin, it would be Indulgence. Ever a champion of feasts, Lans would always enjoy the richest and most seasoned foods and drinks. Similarly, his appetite in games and entertainment reach decadent levels… within the limits of good taste, of course.

This intensity is also reinforced by his horrific temper. And perhaps it is the very fact that he attempts to resist this rage that he exhibits a far greater and unstoppable fury than even the most vicious of Orc fighters.
BackgroundNo one is sure exactly how or when Lord Hannery became accompanied by an orcling everywhere he went. Whispers, as usual, trailed in his wake and often surmised that he was the diplomatic hostage from a rogue Orc horde. Or maybe he was the son of an ally?

But Lord Hannery doted on Lans so much, that many soon forgot the fact that his skin more closely matched the Hannery Sigil's colors. And as the years went on, many of their own children would befriend or rival Lans in the schoolyard. And due to his being a Hannery, Lans enjoyed many happy days of protection and privilege.

It was not long, however, that Lans broke into a fight with a rival over who received more pleasantries from Emmalise duChesse and soundly broke all his teeth and left jawbone. This savagery was not unpunished and Lans learned quickly that such actions had no place in his world. He grew more distant and frustrated as he turned 9… losing friends and any kind of pleasantry whatsoever.

And then his life changed. Lord Hannery had hoped that his son would forget his Orcish tendencies if raised properly but was not foolish enough to trust in this. He had long sent for any mentor that would be willing to help train Lans to control himself and, at the same time, be able to express himself fully. And so, the arrival of Master Tlemich, a philosopher and court sword-dancer, would begin a new part of Lans' life.

Many years later, Lans ultimately chose to enlist with the fabled Terror Knights, the effective opposite side of the coin of Templars, and quickly rose through the ranks. His experience as a sword-dancer gave him many edges over the normally crude fighting styles of his peers and allowed him to be even more effective at ending entire battles with a single stroke of his blade. Though he never saw any real battle, the many tournaments and friendly war games honed his skills as a warrior and tactician.

Then, the Behemoth came.

Within days, Lans' many friends and comrades fell quickly to the monsters. Many more would succumb to madness. In that chaos, Lans was quickly made leader of a crack team of Terror Knights and dispatched to a coastal area near Pioneer's Breath to protect survivors and to survey the damage. After a few successful battles with the beasts, Lans lead his Knights towards the City of Light.

The night before they reached the City, Lans woke up knee-deep in the ocean, facing the direction of the Behemoth. He had no armor on and no weapons were present in his hands. And yet he was covered in blood. When he found his camp, he realized the horrific truth: he had torn all his allies to pieces by hand. But he did not remember any of it.

Broken in spirit, Lans entered the City of Light to find that there were no messages or envoys waiting from his garrison or home. Despite warnings, he attempted again and again to trek back to his father. The further he pushed himself, the more often he woke up in an unknown place with signs of his violent fury everywhere. Soon, he found that this rage began to overtake him even during his waking hours and decided to use it against the many Pathfinders and monsters that threatened the City. However, his rage ultimately proved too much a liability and the Guard imprisoned him. During those years in solitude, madness leaned on his wounds and would have overtaken him if it were not for Thokhruss, a shaman orc imprisoned near him. Through his counseling and lessons on Orc proving rituals, Lans learned to better control himself.

Thokhruss imparted runes onto his back to aid him in the spiritual quest that all young orcs go through. But even despite this, Lans continued to dread the cage he was in and how he could be no use to the screams and agony he heard every day and night. And on such a night, Thokhruss finally succumbed to madness. Lans ended the life of his mentor and swore that this would be the last time he ever raised a weapon against friends and allies. When the city's defenses suffered, they recruited Lans again, noting that he had not raged for quite some time. Now busy with fighting creatures once more, Lans wondered what the future held for him.

Lans, once the brave and terrible, now fears for much: the safety of his father and friends, the meaning of the Behemoth, and himself.
Coping MechanismLans never mastered his rage as all orclings do during their initiation and did not even start his spiritual quest at all until recently. After the Behemoth, Lans often had flashes of blackouts and would learn that he had raged during that time.

Mechanic: Whenever Lans reaches 0 SP, he can make a Orc Rage roll. If successful, Lans is protected from 0 SP penalties but cannot use magic, abilities, or his curse and MUST attack every turn until his rage subsides (if someone reads the runes off his back or is incapacitated), after which he regains full SP. Additionally, during Rage mode, Lans MUST attack the nearest target regardless of it being friend or foe.

[User]
Some part of Mort wants to speak, like regular, functional people do. The problem with chronic depression, Mort finds, is the inconveniently massive amounts of inertia required to do any action whatsoever. So Mort seats himself in Isra'fil's office, and takes a deep breath... and then another... and another...

Finally, after much chewing of his tongue and swatting at his comb, Mort speaks.

"I'm Mort ibn Hytham, of the Makhlab clan, of Al-Tahliq Industries. Sure, you've been holed up here, away from the homeland for whatever amount of time, but you must still know my family.

More silence, and rapid blinking, before he speaks.

"You must also know of the many other families. You must know that, under our custom, especially in the south, that power was, sure, centralized in the capital and doled out by some governor, but real power, real influence, the birds who really made things happen... well, that came down to the clans, dinnit? And things were fine. A tiff here or there, but it was good, under the peace, even you know that."

Mort licked the inside of his beak. Scratched the floor. Twitched. Then, as though suddenly remembering he was in the middle of a conversation,

"Well, now all this awful business has happened. All the birds I know are dead. If there's any trace of my clan left, they've been scattered into the wind, eh? And so are the other clans. Now," Mort picks his beak with a talon, "say we succeed, however damn improbable it is, at all this. Then what? I'm no heroin' type. I'm Makhlab. I know my place. And old habits die hard. If this all works out, and that's a big, honking 'if', then I'm gonna need to be guaranteed my clan's hegemony over the south. Don't tell me you're horrified that I'm still thinkin' about that. It's clan law. Blood first. And if there's a future out there, then it's a Makhlab future.

"So, yes, I'm going to want to find surviving relatives and soldiers. I want to re-establish some semblance of order. There. I'm honest. And I'd rather do it sooner than later. What sort of stuff do you know about liberating our land could be beneficial to my hodge-podge party?"

[Assistant]
Res watched with barely bridled annoyance as her escort scuttled out of the room, she despised manipulative people, even over stupid little incidents like this. Looking back at Gudrun, she wasted no time in getting to the point, "I'm sure everyone feels the same way about their city."

The fact that the appointed escort was a liar, and how opportunely the Dwarven councilor decided to take advantage of the situation made Rehsif wary of the Dwarf's agenda, however it was true she had little to no opinion on who she wanted to help first. So she took a seat in front of Gudrun's desk and made sure to tuck her bag by her feet, her coin wasn't leaving her sight again if she had any say in it.

"I'd also like to put in a formal request to have my missing money returned. It was ten silvers I had that went missing."

Res scratched at the scars on her chin, such a long stay in the dungeon left her feeling very itchy, "And as to why, or who, or what I need to do. Just give me a list and I'll do my best, or tell you if I can't. I don't need any other explanations."


[System]
I R L
Age - 18
Place of Origin - Japan
Occupation - High School Student

A V A T A R

Character's Name - Kazuki
Pathos Affiliation - Queon
Role - Healer
Profession - Wandering Minstrel
Weapon of Choice - Book
Domains - Wind, Restoration + Protection

-

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Stoic
Good news, bad news, confusing news--Kazuki seems to have the emotional range of a teaspoon. He doesn't seem all that bothered with anything and doesn't react much. If it weren't for the lack of monotone, most people would probably assume he's a robot. One would think even his passion would get him to emote, but aside from a vague focused expression, he otherwise is the same as always.

Driven
He doesn't let anything get in the way of accomplishing his goals: everything in life is part of a problem that leads to a solution one way or another. He is relentless when it comes to accomplishing a goal, often pushing himself past what's healthy. For a majority of his life it's been seen as a virtue of sorts and he hasn't had any reason to slow down.

Observant
Despite having little care for the people he engages with, he finds it useful to pick up on a few cues to keep in mind for later if need be.

B E N C H M A R K S

Piano Man
By far and away Kazuki's most cultivated skill, to the point he has gotten several server first records on unlocking the next tier with thousands of hours put into piano playing. Of course, aside from entertainment value and unlocking a few other skills, it doesn't have much use otherwise.

Healing Touch
His second best and probably most relevant skill. Originally toting around without a weapon, Kazuki's healing can be strengthened if he makes contact with whoever needs healing; best used for greater injuries at the risk of putting himself in action.

Song of the Wind
The ability to have his music gain effects depending on the song he's playing. Different songs have different effects, ranging from a variety of buffs and healing over time. Some come at the conclusion of a song, others are persisting so long as the melody is continuously played.

With Hammer in Hand
Smithery has become a great side hobby to Kazuki, who genuinely enjoys making armor and weapons whenever he gets his hands on materials. While he has made a few commissions, it became clear that making and selling instruments quickly became his specialty and source of income--that said, he can make a majority of weapons and armor if need be.
 | Physical Description
Standing at five feet ten inches, Kazuki is a lanky young man that usually towers over his classmates. At a first glance there isn't much home to write about, his face still plenty boyish and more youthful looking than he'd like. The most notable feature he has is probably his green eyes, usually hidden under the mess of brown hair he sports. His expressions are often heavily muted or outright nonexistent, making it difficult to know if he's paying attention or not. Whenever he does look at people, it's noted that it seems more like he's looking through them, not at them.
Character Conceptualization
Kazuki Hoshizawa is a serious kid who takes his passions to their fullest at the expense of most of his social skills. After taking the emotional brunt of his parents' divorce, for all intents and purposes he has shut down. While it's hardly noticeable due to stellar grades and his talent at music, his social life is nonexistent for the most part. As a result, he has a tendency to be overly blunt and cold with little care about the effects of what he says. His personality seems to be the inverse of most healers in media and makes it clear he helps people out of expectation, not out of obligation.

As a noob who doesn't really play games, he was hesitant to even join Pariah Online. He doesn't know much of RPGs in general but has enjoyed the nonsensical side of the game; aside from the appeal of getting to play and learn several instruments, he doesn't really find adventuring appealing. He ended up choosing healing as it seemed easier to stay in the back and support his younger brother. While he doesn't discern himself from who he is outside of the game, he outright refuses to speak of personal matters, with Kazuma barely being an exception and only because Kazuki keeps slipping up and calling him by his real name.

Other Information
* Has regularly placed in several national competitions
* Big fan of strawberries
* Toolkit
* Theme
 |

[User]
Location: City Streets - City of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

Rael's shouting brought him to a halt. Before he'd turned around he knew she wanted to catch up to him. Couldn't say why- she'd shown a remarkable ability to not care about other people. "Don't follow me!" Graves yelled back as he spun around. He wasn't in the mood. Wasn't in the mood to talk, or be talked at, or chewed out for his lack of manners. Anger still flowed through his veins, burning and raging like a wildfire. If he'd thought removing himself from the situation would cool him down, he'd been wrong.

But Rael didn't listen- typical- and came trapezing out of the tavern's second floor to run after him. Graves had half a mind to just keep walking. He didn't. He stood there, letting his choler rise with the volume of his voice.

"Are you deaf or do you just enjoy pissin' me off?"

"What's your frickin' problem, tank-for-brains?"

He'd spun back around before she had two words out and kept walking. Walking with long, purposeful strides in the vague direction he knew his destination to be. It was a place he'd walked by a handful of times, maybe, but Graves rarely got lost. Tracking people down was how he'd made a name for himself, after all.

"I leave you for five minutes and Benkei starts shit with you? What the hell?"

Her questions went unanswered for more than a minute. They just went on walking together through the crowded city streets, with Graves barreling his way through anyone stupid enough to not move aside. He still wasn't calming down. His blood pressure was through the roof. "I started the shit. S'what I do." Graves snarled. "His arrogant, self-righteous, hypocrite-of-a-brother was talkin' out one side of his mouth about teamwork n' unity n' all this other shit, and outta the other he was talkin' about abandoning Kalie 'cause she's- she's normal."

Just verbalizing everything that was banging around inside his skull was enough to reheat the fire. He wasn't even trying to keep it under control at this point; he didn't care who heard him yelling. He didn't care that people were looking at him like some kinda freak. It'd all been too much. Everything. All of it was just building and building on top of each other like a tower of misery up to the heavens and Graves couldn't take it anymore.

"'Cause all this scares her. 'Cause everything that's goin' on is too much. 'Cause unlike most'a our gang of losers, fuck-ups and loners, she actually has somethin' to lose." He turned his head to look at Rael over his shoulder. "Same reason you yelled at her, really."

"I yelled at her because..." She paused, looking at the ground for a moment. "...because she was being annoying. Don't even know why. I snapped."

"Can't stand her either. That RP shit's for kids and dorks."

She sighed audibly as she rose her hand to her face as if she had a migraine.

"It was... I dunno. Maybe Alja is right about me. Whatever. Not like I'd abandon anyone because they are annoying. Does Kazuki really want to ditch the weak members like that?"

He echoed Rael's sigh and slowed in his walk. "I dunno. I dunno what he wants, and I didn't give him time to explain. Said a lot of shit I shouldn't have and now the group's...done. Ain't something you come back from. Better off on my own, anyway."

"How lame. Giving up that easily."

"Didn't take you for the kumbaya type."

She rolled her eyes as she moved her hand from her face, "Never took you for the coward type."

That hit a nerve.

"What's going to happen to those morons without us?"

And that drove it home.

"God, you sound just like-" He threw up his hands and gave a frustrated groan. "-They're probably gonna charge off the nearest cliff like a pack of lemmings."

She smiled, "People like us aren't supposed to be the likeable ones. If you weren't busy being so upset you'd see that. We've got a different job."

They stopped walking. "You're a pain in my ass, I hope you know that."

"Yeah." She moved closer looking up at him as she did so, forcing absolute eye contact. "So what're you gonna do about it?"

Not one to back down from a challenge, Graves held his ground, bending his knees to get down to her level. After a beat of glaring at her he stood back up. "Still not over the ale thing- Imma get you back for it later. For now, there's work to be done."

[Assistant]
Location: City Streets -- The City of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

Seele tried to size him up, get a read, but the man was a sphynx. A sphynx with a dour look permanently carved into his silly, symmetrical face. Frankly, it felt a lot like dealing with Rael, only this time she had the benefit of already having dealt with someone like Rael. Brick walls they were, just different flavors of brick.

"Well, you certainly seem to know him better than I do, so if you think he's alright…" she said, flapping a hand at her face and airing out the collar of her robe. The witchy look had always worked for her, but Thorinn wasn't making it easy anymore. The humidity wasn't so much the problem, she was used to that, but the sun was just dreadful. Suddenly, her dearly departed hat didn't seem so silly anymore.

Kazuki still had a little sass left in him, it seemed, but she waved it off. "I'm here because it's not safe for a young man to go wandering around the city alone, clearly. The place is a playground on Halloween, just swap out the sugar for mass panic, and the children for…well, bigger children, I suppose," she said, gesturing around at the unprecedented bustle that had seized her patron city. Distantly she could hear more raucous shouting, likely from other wayfarers finding themselves in similarly tense situations. "And you know, at this point it feels like getting the full story would be like playing Telephone. It's probably all garbled and twisted up and not at all like what actually happened, I don't think."

She finally straightened up, took a deep breath of her own, and like that she was smiling again. "But you're welcomed to tell it to me, if you like. Or we could just talk. You might have noticed I like talking maybe a bit too much, but I'm also good at listening. So, if you want me to zip up, you'll just have to give me something to listen to."


[System]
Age: 19

Gender: Female

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

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

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

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

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

[User]
"It would be next to impossible to unite the people of this region. However, the people of the continent you spoke of to the southwest would possibly join forces with us, as most of them are our kin." Raldel started explaining about how their tribes had spread from their origins on the continent, while Onyx excused herself and left the den.

The worry in her mind was making it hard to concentrate on anything they were saying anymore, so she started flying around the nest to clear her mind.

[Assistant]
Tarentek noticed Onyx leave, but for the moment, he listened closely to Raldel's explanation of his people's origins. He did not know much of the world beyond their region, or at least, not the world in its current state, so this was the first he heard about these groups of people. Reaching out to them for help did seem like a solid option, but there were concerns in his mind.

"It is good that you already have a relationship with those groups. Certainly, it will make it easier to get their help, but...I do have some concern about leaving the cities of our region to fend for themselves. Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, and especially Tel Nof are large settlements with many people, much like Amman. Even if we have not always had good relations, I do not wish to see them fall to our enemy. Not to mention that those cities will be great assets to this Empire. Tel Nof used to be a Human military base. I want to warn them, but...I do agree that it would be beyond difficult to convince them to work together. These groups in the continent to the southwest, Africa, as the Humans called it, how much do you know about them. I fear that, to resist the advance of our enemy, we will need the support of large cities with organized militaries capable of using human weapons. I fear anything less will not be enough. And, even if we can find the support we need, Africa is far from here, and it may not even be possible to bring their forces here in time. Your people may need to retreat to the southwest regardless." Tarentek reasoned. He still did not like the thought of leaving such large cities to be conquered, but if Raldel had faith that the groups in Africa would be open to joining in the defense, then they might be a better option.

[User]
Raldel continued on as if he hadn't even noticed Onyx's absence. "We do not have a 'good' relationship with the tribes that are not akin to us, but as a race we have our pride and responsibility that binds us. I know of Three groups already that would shelter us should we need to flee, and over 10 groups that would rally with us at the earliest notice. The tribes that live on the continent of Africa are much larger than our tribes here, and they may have developed a pact with the other races there, so I believe sending a messenger to each of them as soon as possible would be the best course of action right now, because then they would be able to send warriors to the isthmus between here and the continent to guard against land expansion of this empire into the continent."

"As for the cities of Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, I believe that they are still under the control of a race much like your own. I have never heard of Tel Nof before, but if it is in the same area as the other two we may be able to assume that they are also under the rule of this same race." Raldel looked around for a moment and then ordered Opal to go find Onyx. "She's been gone long enough now."

---

Onyx wasn't really sure where she was going, or why she had left in the first place, however her instincts had never driven her wrong before, so she closed her eyes and let the wind guide her.

After a while she was able to smell the familiar taint of salt in the air, and she knew she was nearing the sea she had met Tarentek at just the day before. She opened her eyes and landed at the side of the wide grey road, rather than going all the way to the bank of the sea like she usually did, and looked around.

The sky looked as grey as the road beneath her and the sea reflected the color across its surface, creating a variable monochrome scene around her. She had never been much for camouflage, but now, still following her instinct, Onyx pulled the top of her shawl up over her head and face and tied it into a hood, effectively hiding both her face and wings from the sight of any other creature.

Then she waited. She wasn't on the normal stretch of shore that she usually ended up at, instead she was in an area that was dominated by the shells of the old buildings and relics left behind by the civilizations before. Her dark clothing blended well into the shadows of the old wall she had chosen to hide behind, even though she really had no idea what she was hiding from.

After a while, she heard a loud rumble in the distance. Keeping as still as she could, she watched as the source of the rumbling came into view. It was a small group of the old vehicles that she had seen so many of just lying around that was moving quickly down the road towards where she was. As she watched, the group started going slower as they entered the area until they came to a stop in the middle of the small ruins.

They must be scavengers for the empire. Why would they come all the way out here though? Onyx thought to herself as the creatures emerged from the vehicles.

[Assistant]
Tarentek did not know enough about Onyx to know for sure if it was normal for her to suddenly leave in this manner. Though, given that she was wandering alone when she found him, it couldn't be too strange of behavior. Indeed, Raldel did not seem too greatly concerned, so he doubted it was anything terribly important. After Opal left, Tarentek turned back to Raldel to continue.

"Hopefully, your allies can mount a defense in time. Just be sure to warn them of the extent of our enemy's capabilities. I do not know if we could win direct, head on battles against them. Unless our enemy is far outnumbered, we would need clever tactics to give us the advantage. As for the three cities to the northwest, Amman engaged in trade with all of them. We weren't exactly allies, but it was rare for us to have any direct conflict, given our distance from them. Tel Nof is controlled by another group of my race, the Karisskan. We were civil with them, mostly. Jerusalem and Tel Aviv are both controlled by different races; they do look somewhat like my people, but neither of them are Karisskan. From all I have heard, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem have a complicated, and sometimes violent history with each other. Their people are almost opposites in how they behave, so I agree that it may be difficult to convince them to cooperate. It may not be impossible, but...they would need to believe the danger from this Empire is greater than their animosity for one another. Tel Nof is the smallest of the three cities, but there might actually be a good chance of convincing them to aid in the defense. If...I were to speak to them, the fact that I am Karisskan might give me more credibility." Tarentek explained.

[User]
"I could have a group of sentries go with you there, if you can show the way. As for Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, Unless you believe that you could negotiate the truce between them, I know of only one person who is level-headed enough to do so." Raldel spoke with emotion barely contained in the quiet, matter-of-fact tone he was using with Tarentek, an almost unnoticeable quaver behind his words. "You should know though, to retrieve them would mean a dangerous mission into territory that is most likely already under the control of this empire."

---

Opal breathed a slight sigh of relief as he left his father's den, and then immediately cursed himself for it. What was he relieved for? To be finally away from the Karisskan Tarentek, and back doing something that was actually DOING something. Yes, finding his sister once she's gone off on one of her little 'adventures' wasn't doing much, but to Opal it felt like he was doing more than standing around and talking about war tactics with an outsider.

Opal could not understand how his father or even how his sister could stand to be near such a creature. He had been told that Tarentek was staying with Onyx until he recovered, however, except for some apparent dehydration and a few nasty scars, the Karisskan seemed to be in perfect health. "Healthy enough to stand against one of us, or even launch a surprise attack on Onyx or Raldel should they ever be alone." The words slipped from Opal's mouth before he could even begin to think that he could be wrong. Even when the thought did cross his mind though, he couldn't force himself to change his mind.

He forced himself to stop thinking about his distrust of Tarentek as he saw the thin line on the horizon that he knew was the sea where Onyx always ended up.

---

Onyx watched for a while as the scouts searched the area, gathering anything they had apparently deemed useful, and then place a small object on one of the walls of the ruin before they left, continuing down the road to the north. They must be going down all the roads to find all of the ruins and search them before they start trying to find the people. Onyx's thoughts continued to wander about the topic as she started flying back to her nest.

She ran into Opal as she flew, who told her that her father had sent him to go bring her back. They flew back to the nest in relative silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

[Assistant]
Tarentek nodded to Raldel. It would still be at least a few days before he would feel well enough to travel, but once he had recovered, he could take on the role of negotiator for Tel Nof. "Of course, Tel Nof is barely farther than Jerusalem, and they would be able to send forces quickly. It is the smallest of the three cities, but their technology is notably better. They regularly engage in trade with other cities, so as long as we are cordial, we should have no problem simply walking through the front gate. Getting an audience with their leadership may be more difficult, but if they are governed in any way similar to Amman, there should be a method to get a message to someone important."

As for Raldel's next suggestion about finding people to broker a truce between the other two cities, Tarentek was slightly more hesitant, but nevertheless quickly came to a decision. "As for finding these other negotiators you speak of...if there is going to be a mission to find them, I would volunteer for it. Ultimately, it is my idea to even attempt to broker a truce between the two cities, and I would not send your people into danger without being willing to risk my own life as well. Where are these people you are referring to, and what kind of danger to you expect such a task would entail?" He asked.


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

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

Motives: Repel the Cruxi and ensure a better future.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-FRAMEWERK-
Code Name: Caliburn

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

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

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

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

[User] "The Caliburn seems pretty much done for.", Ryan says quietly. The Macabre then turns towards Elora's Frame and nods its head in thanks. Then, suddenly, the big piece of metal that was once the Caliburn charges Ryan's frame. Visceral quickly impales the bigger frame but that is not enough to stop the charge. Macabre is sent tumbling away, back into zone B. Ryan feels a jolt as the Macabre crashes through a pillar and lands at the base of another. The Macabre quickly feels for Visceral, Ryan then realizes that it is still stuck in the Caliburn.

[Assistant]
"O-Okay. Just stay right there." When Koehler actually listened to Elora's pleading despite his delirious condition and forfeited out of the match, Elora sighed. She did slightly regret losing a teammate, she couldn't deny that, but she cared more about the well-being of her new comrades and possible friends. She did not want him to push himself too far, like what happened with Alexei. She shook the sad thoughts from her head and opened up the Command channel.
"Diver to Command, do you read me? Cadet Koehler requires medical attention. He seems to have some kind of delirium. Please."

Once Elora got a response, she looked at the map, and gasped when she saw Macabre knocked a far distance. The battle was turning uglier by the second: despite Elora's attempt at subduing the powerful Frame, Lora still kept pushing herself, and actually managed to perform the charging tackle on Ryan and his Macabre. Her thrusters shorted out with heavy black smoke from that move, unusable for the rest of the fight, but the resulting impact was enough to crack Macabre's torso. The Framewerk first attempted to stand, but doubled over, it's extremely light structure compromised to the point that it couldn't support itself any more. Then with a loud, metal-screeching noise, the Frame's upper body dislocated from it's lower body and bent from the lack of support when it took a few steps forward.

"Oh no...Ryan...I..I'll...." Elora's voice wavered, and then she lowered her head. She opened up a voice channel with Lora. "You may think I'm helpless without my friends...but you're wrong! I'll avenge my friends!" With a snapping of fingers, Elora programmed the Data Drones to focus their fire on the Caliburn's second weakpoint: the heels of her feet. With that much laser fire thrown at them, even from a weak source like her Drones, was sure to heat up the joints to the point they would bend due to the Framewerk's massive weight, and break under her, causing the entire Frame to fall down. Diver then rounded up to the front of the Caliburn, and fired her ABR at the third and final weakpoint of the Caliburn: the armpits. Elora's objective was to disable her weapon-arm by shooting into the armpit, where the armor was thinnest, and disable the entire appendage.

---

"What are you doing, Cadet Koehler? Get back in there and fight like a man, dammit!" Lorenzo ordered through the microphone. "If you think you can just sit the mock battle through-"

"Professor, I think there's more to his situation than apparent cowardice." Ritsu slightly moved her index finger towards the lower deck, where personnel were making reports on his condition. "His readings have turned abnormal, likely caused by an external chemical reaction. Cause seems to be narcotics taken after the physical examination, but before the briefing."

"..." Lorenzo was quiet, but his tomato-red face and lip-biting teeth told more than enough about his reaction.
He pressed another red button, and Roxy turned limp with his systems shutting down while it was leaning on the tower.

"I'm going to kick that drug-snorting junkie out of my project faster than you can-"

"Uhh, sir, not to interrupt, but these aforementioned narcotics, they also affected his Synchro Rate. In fact, they resulted in a positive rise."

"Move!" Lorenzo stepped down to the lower deck and shoved the scientist off of his station, and leaned on the monitor that showed a graph of Koehler's Synchronization Rate. Ritsu followed behind. "Maybe we could keep pilot Koehler around for a while longer, if only to properly research the...unexpected qualities of his consumed substances."

Lorenzo grumbled, but then nodded when he went back to his seat in the upper deck. "His use of narcotics will be heavily monitored, and when there's any signs of drug abuse or violent reactions he'll be kicked out."

"Of course, Professor."

Lorenzo sighed, and was about to return back to his observation when another report came in: "Sir, Macabre has taken critical damage. His chassis is ripping in half!"

Without saying a single word, Lorenzo deactivated the Macabre, and the Framewerk fell down, its two separate halves hitting the ground at separate times. Lorenzo went back to watching the monitors with clasped fingers, more miffed than previously.

[User]
Koehler could only laugh at the order, a sort of demented, quiet giggle. "Keheheheheh... if only you knew.". The muffled laughter turned into a small amount of crying before Harold got over himself. "I'm seeing shit! I'm seeing shit, captain!".
Indeed, the 'recovering' drug addict was seeing some things. Flashbacks and memories of his darker moments turned ever more real as his mind tried to recover itself from going through whatever happened.

Withdrawals, beating people senseless for no reasonable purpose, facing the sheer disappointment and negligence from his family and friends, him actually killing someone, or something once or twice... It was getting too much for him to just sit there and take it. He hit himself as hard as he could to try and give himself blessed unconsciousness, but to no avail. He tried to stop the vivid imagery by disconnecting himself, but he couldn't, for some damn reason.

It's almost like he wanted to face his own sins... "I'm a WRECK! I don't deserve to be here!", he said, mainly to himself. Roxy barely nudged to just try and hold itself, attempting to copy its' pilots' scared and feeble position. Of course, it was immediately stopped by the locking system in place. He mumbled apologies to Elora, Stukov, Miles, and all of the others (including his 'handlers') for being so pathetic.

[Assistant]
The attack provided a different result than Lora had anticipated, partly due to the malfunction of her thrusters; the lighter frame was shoved hard into Zone B, the torso cracking and creaking hard. A few seconds passed, and Macabre tried to regain composure... only for the whole frame to split in half at the waist, the chunks disabling as they hit the ground.

Unfortunately, Lora's own troubles were compounding. Visceral had ended up lodged in Caliburn's gut - perhaps an opportunity for a weapon, if both the Framewerk's arms were not nigh-paralyzed. That blast from the main thrusters had left them shot, and the whole body had suffered so much armor damage the harness was locking up. A quick diagnostic revealed that not even the secondary weapons system was operational, as the thruster malfunction and Diver's laser blasts had done a number on the guns.

Lora was getting a major headache. She struggled in the control harness, trying to get her poor wreck of a machine moving. A comms channel opened, and a decisively less-timid Elora spoke up:
"You may think I'm helpless without my friends...but you're wrong! I'll avenge my friends!"

The pilot shook her head, groaning in mild agony. "Is this how it's going to be-!?" The young lady panted out, unaware of whatever channels she had open. "I'm supposed to give it my all- fight with everything I have! I couldn't even get a chance-..."

The laser drones opened fire on the Frame's ankles, unforgiving to Lora's drama. Ravaged and ruined, Caliburn had little capacity to avoid Diver's strategy. The right leg gave out first, and as the larger Frame tried to move away, it instead tripped and crumpled to one knee, caught in a defeated kneel. The Frame's displays were blaring red along Lora's cope of vision, and her muscles ached with strain trying to wrestle control back into Caliburn. Sweat burned down her face, her brain hurt, the sounds replaced with angry blares of the alarm...

That was the problem with Synchronization. For as long as a pilot was given complete control over their machine, so too were they given the strain of trying to control it as it fell apart. As the ratio climbed, so too did the chances that a pilot would die with their Framewerk.

Diver pulled around and took aim with its rifle. Any more damage, and Caliburn was going to be seriously crippled. Lora finally came to realize the danger, and so quickly (if ruefully) moved to pull her emergency release cord. "So be it. You win. Manual override: eject," Lora firmly announced, and moments later she was pulled away from the cockpit. The back of Caliburn's neck blew open, and from it an emergency capsule was launched.

The safety pod flew through the air like a valuable missile, before it deployed a lining of air cushions. It bounced once... twice... then grounded down to a grisly stop among the disturbed earth of Zone C. The pilot within had strains of every kind weighing upon her; carefully, gradually, she began to slow down. To control her breathing...

Breathe in-... hold... breathe out... breathe in-...


[System]
Gender: Female
Age: 18

History
The Estrielles: an unusual, gifted bloodline of mortals, holding affinities for magic yet no manifestable powers of their own, were identified by The Inquisition as a potential extension of their faction some 80 years ago. In return for magical prowess, unparalleled skill in the Healing Arts, protection and lavish treatment, members of the Estrielle bloodline were to be forever bound to the Holy Church and the deity responsible for their contracted wealth of power - Kal, the Goddess of Restoration.

Details of their Contracted Powers:
Each member of the bloodline harboured unharnessed magic mixed and diluted within their bloods. Thus, to ensure that these revenues could be tapped into, what used to be fragments of magic lying dormant in their bodies were forcefully extracted, compressed, and manifested into Sentinel Spirits, each taking varying forms of Kal's divine symbol - the phoenix. The Spirits, bound to their respective owners, became personalized, paradoxical weapons of healing and volatile firepower, leaving members of the Estrielle bloodline free to explore the depths of their newfound magical capabilities. Each family member wielded their Spirits differently, and while some excelled in the Healing Arts, others could manipulate their destructive flames with adroit precision.

The Spirits mirrored certain characteristics belonging to their human owners, and logically so, because they were fundamentally a part of them. For example, Spirits despite being ironically called as such, are in fact mortal creatures with ages paralleling that of their masters'. Spirits can die from mortal wounds, but their deaths will not result in the deaths of their masters. On the other hand, the death of an Estrielle would consequently result in the eradication of his or her Spirit. Lastly, although Spirits may act independently, an Estrielle's command is absolute.

For decades, the Estrielle bloodline served the Holy Church in their passionate and fiery endeavours, before the tainted fires of an offspring brought ruin and devastation upon the family. Zaire Estrielle, eldest son and brother to Phoenix Estrielle, cultivated an inexplicable and unfathomable interest in the hidden ones that dwelled in the depths. He had sought to collude with them, drawn by the mysterious allure of the underworld and its secrets. It was no surprise that the Holy Church promptly ordered a death warrant upon the discovery of his secret exchanges. The powers of Kal and the Healing Arts were not for the damned. Zaire Estrielle, the catalyst for the despair, became no more - dragging all those who had tried to defend him along with him to his grave.

All except little Phoenix Estrielle, whom for five years quietly watched her brother make his hidden dealings, her lips silent and unmoving, motivated by nothing else but sheer curiosity and her eagerness to learn about a world kept secret from her all those years - without being caught, that is. Phoenix did nothing to save her brother that night when The Inquisition made the arrest, thinking she had saved herself from eternal damnation. She thought wrong - and was careless. The Inquisition, it seemed, were cleverer and more attentive than she had anticipated. It was brought to their attention that 16-year-old Phoenix Estrielle had stood at a corner, contrasted against her screaming parents, a mask of indifference implanted on her face. Suspiciously, they conducted an interrogation during which Phoenix, with her brazen personality, had nonchalantly admitted her knowledge of the matter without much fuss. For silence, she was duly awarded with a curse.

Curse
The Curse of the Phoenix is terrible indeed, causing the afflicted one to progressively age during the day, before ending dusk with a wrinkled, elderly form. She will die during the night and be reborn again at dawn, starting the day at her natural age. The process repeats itself daily. This is by no means a form of immortality, for the afflicted person remains mortal, susceptible to injury, natural aging, and death.

Appearance
After approximately two years of suffering from the effects of the curse, she has found the perfect clothing to accommodate her constantly aging body.

Abilities and Equipment
Her Spirit, Avrak, contains hawk-like features and a fiery, blood-red plumage. Avrak is rarely seen near his master, for he typically follows her around from the skies or atop the roofs of buildings.

Phoenix's adept skill with her Sentinel Spirit lies primarily in its destructive abilities, her powers nurtured and cultivated through necessity - and indisputably so, for two years of roaming the dark streets of Sutton along with her obvious weakness has forced her rely much upon her relationship and synchronicity with Avrak. On the other hand, her skill in healing leaves much to be desired, having deteriorated over the past two years as a result of the lack of practice. For one, Phoenix's inherent cautiousness meant that her medical needs were scarce. Secondly, Phoenix is not one to administer her healing powers to others - not unless one had something considerably significant to offer her in exchange for her services. Most importantly, as part of her curse, Phoenix cannot perform the Healing Arts without accelerating her aging. In other words, the casting of restoration spells will cause her time of death to be brought forward (only for that day).

She does not possess any note-worthy items - only a dagger which she hangs on her belt.

Personality
A self-interested and calculative character, and perpetually bored, Phoenix navigates life with an almost uncanny confidence as a cursed being. Typically, she comes across as calm and emotionally self-contained, yet is capable of displaying bouts of brash stubbornness akin to that of a child. Phoenix appears to be disinterested in interpersonal relationships, for she thrives inside her mind - an intellectual, observant and cautious individual. As many of her acquaintances would find, Phoenix's habitual bluntness can be unnerving.

[User]
Chapter 1 - Into the Depths

Two days before the gathering:

Ray Conover sat back in his chair. The mercenary's home was comfortable. It damned well better be after the blood he'd shed to buy it. He looked outside at the waxing moon rising just above the line of shingles and chimneys. Professor Whitlock had hired him to help with an expedition into the depths. Hopefully it wouldn't wind up like the last one. That aging fool was going to get what's coming to him if he didn't lay off on the adventures. Ray grinned at the thought. He couldn't deny the fact that the man had energy.

Thud! Thud ! Thud!

It was the door. The day had already died, whoever it is, is probably trouble. Ray grabbed his repeater crossbow, scratched his chin stubble with one wrist, and stretched his neck. Preparations complete he stomped down his stairs to the door. The thick glass made identifying the dressed figure outside impossible so he hefted the crossbow with one arm and opened the door. "What'ja want?"

On the other side was a man dressed in fine black attire with a sharp black top hat and a black cane with a silver-bulbed handle. Barely affected by the deadly crossbow pointed at him, he adjusted his circular orange sunglasses and spoke with a practiced tone. "Well, sir. I came by in hopes of finding someone to help me with a job a month from now."

"Why didn'ja just say so?" Ray stammered. "I've got a job soon. Should be done by then. What did'ja have in mind?"

"I can explain. May I come in?" The man asked.

"Well first things first. You already seem to know me. What's ya name?"

The bespectacled man replied in a proud tone. "My name is Aran Vernus."

Ray gave him a good once-over with his eyes. Aran was pretty pale and thin under his coat. Maybe it was just the light. "Well Aran Vernus. Sure. Come on in."

His face shaped into a predatory grin. "Gladly." He lowered the spectacles revealing eyes the color of the deepest pit.

Day of the gathering:

Avrion surveyed the group. Two women, two men, a masked personage and himself. That made six. It would have to do. They were situated around a rented private room in a library. Though they hadn't all come in at the same time. The mercenary Ray Conover was of course a little late. He usually was. Avrion had hired the man before and he was just as sloppy looking as usual. The very reason Avrion trusted this man so much was set in his ability. He was not cursed or supernatural in any way. He simply was as some people would say, a badass. He was talented and despite his disheveled appearance was incredibly wary.

"So uh, what's the spiel?" Ray piped in. There was a certain tension in the room waiting to be stilled by the professor. The merc peered around at the group, staring at Oswalt for a little too long. "Eh, sorry." He apologized, glancing away.

"Yes of course. Let's get this underway. I'd let you bunch introduce yourselves to one another but we'll have plenty of time to do that over the course of our venture." He sighed and took a deep breath. In that moment the gravity weighing on his mind was visible in a brief and sad expression. "I have learned that creatures are appearing in the city at increasingly alarming rates. The guard are having difficulty keeping track of it all and I know precisely why. Someone is organizing them and increasing their numbers. If this continues the city will be overwhelmed and collapse. It could be any day now which is why we need to start moving as soon as possible."

Avrion stares at the window for a good long moment. It was currently noon so the sun was still bright in the sky. It's obvious by his expression that though he knows this must be done he was having doubts as to what to do and says. "The guard won't help us down there. Our lord won't risk it. We're on our own for now until we get some more incentive. My suggestion is to enter the depths and find this incentive to stoke the guard. Any other thoughts?" He opened the discussion.

[Assistant]
"I have no objections to that plan," Red spoke. She neither smiled nor frowned.
Red... you could murder them all. A voice in Red's head spoke.
You could strangle them or stab them. I could teach you how.
"I DONT WANT TO KILL THEM!" Red shouted. She hadn't meant to voice her thought. But she had accidentally let it slip through her mouth.
Red. Your newfound companions are cursed as well. You aren't alone anymore.... Oh wait, you've never really been alone. As soon as human company fled we had already settled in. Another voice chimed in. It was sarcastic in tone and overall rude.
"You don't count as company," Red snarled. It was aimed at the voices.


[System]
Xoxi
Gender: Female

Godly Parents: Mother - Selene (in the event of unknown, Greek Goddess of the Moon)

Sphere of Control: Stealth, shadows, and deception.

Civilization: Mycelings

Personality: Xoxi is convincing, deceiving, greedy, kind-hearted, homosexual, and sarcastic. She stays a neutral party for most of the time, and seeks to gain the trust of others. She will then use that trust to propel herself forward in the world. Being alone for the past 16 years though has made her slightly insane, but she still remains sanity in most situations.
A Small Guide to the Mind of Xoxi
- Sewers are a unit of measurement.
- Plantoids are responsible for her father's death and should be slain.
- Pizza is available at any time and is perfect for any occasion.
- Should Pizza not be present cookies make for a good substitute.
- "If it tastes like fish, find another dish. If it tastes like chicken, keep lickin'."
- Guns are useless for a thief.
- Swords are also useless for a thief.
- A thief is only as good as the trust she gains.
- If a woman entices you with just her body, she is a complete and utter waste of a romantic interest.
- Dicks are gross. Period.
+ It is completely justified to punt rogue mycelings as far as you can.
+Screaming at an ocean is a good idea.
Sacred Animal: Mouse

Powers: Shadowcloak - Hiding in the shadows, Xoxi remains completely invisible for a short amount of time. (Invisibility can be broken by very sudden movements, like thrusting an arm, and muffles slightly.)
 Lunar Absorption - Passively gain energy when the moon is out.
 Persuasion - Simple stuff, just very strong convincing.
 Fortify Insanity- Make the mind very foggy and unorganized, making it hard to break (insanity rises; post switches to Xoxi's point of view).
 Subterfuge - A clone made of complete shadows appears, and can alter the world based on Xoxi's desires (Usable only when Xoxi has fortified insanity).

Weapon: Two daggers, made of a material with the consistency similar to bones.

History:

Raised homeless by a single father (Selene being occupied with other stuff,) Xoxi wasn't really allowed the joys of life. The city she was raised in didn't take too kindly to the homeless or children, and since she was both, she was treated like absolute garbage. Through a run in with a local thief, she was taken in by him, to which he taught her his craft. Xoxi excelled at this craft, being a natural prodigy at the art of sneaking, she hastily surpassed the mentor. She gained wealth and a small home for her father and herself, occasionally hiding the thief who taught her everything she knew. Eventually, her skills took a bad turn and she landed herself in a jail, far away from her original home. She broke out a few days in, via knocking out a female guard, dawning her clothes, and walking out the front door. She had left her home behind and was an escaped convict. She decided fate led her to where she was now and earned a living in that town. She still thieves and has even done some favors for the local police, but mainly for them to remove her from their list of wanted criminals. As of current standings she hops around cities and scavenges what she can without raising too much alarm.

Other: She occasionally sends letters and such to her father and mentor, despite both being dead and herself being one of the last "humans" (Demigods are a weird boat.)
Gyro
Gyro Chillbro

Gender: Male

Godly Parent: Xoxi Slevryn (in a sense)

Sphere of Control: Economy and Stealth

Civilization: Elected President of the Mycelings

Personality: He is small, reasonable, loyal, and lazy (in a sense.) He tends to use his knowledge of technology and economics to gain trust.

Sacred Animal: Mouse (duh)

Powers:
 Persuasion - easy stuff, persuading the opponent.
 Intimidation - works only on larger foes. Scares them out of combat.
 Bribery - Trick opponents into attacking each other over a bribe.

Weapon: Not picky over choice, will use whatever's around that he can pick up. Does tend to use a sewing needle though.

History - One day he appeared. Same day he was elected President over his race. That's it.

Other - Doesn't like the idea of combat, and will remain pacifistic unless he's in very immediate danger.

VILLAIN

Tlevran
Name: Tlevran

Gender: Male

Godly Parents: Talos (Deceased)
 Eris (Deceased)

Personality: Ruthless, heartless, and a cruel guy all around. He has basically no care for the lives of others, and really just wants to see everyone he meets dead in one form or another.

Sphere of Control: Strength, Blood, and Cruelty.

Civilization: Had one, committed a mass genocide within the first week of it's existence. Why? Because one person said he sucked.

Powers:
Berserk - All damage dealt is increased tenfold, catch is all damage received is increased tenfold
Heart Rate - Control someone's heart rate at will, however unable to make it go like 10bpm.
Genocide - Slay all lesser beings in a very small radius around him (like 1 foot all around), catch is he's completely tired afterward, and all magic is a no go when used by him

Weapons: A single, titanium meat cleaver.

History:
Nothing is really known about Tlevran, other than his name, and what he plans on doing with it is unknown. He is said to be buried far underground, and is completely trapped, until someone frees him from his prison.
As for why he is trapped, ancient legends say that he had slain his mother Eris, disposed of the body, and when his father Talos found out, Tlevran stabbed him in the gut, effectively slaying his father as well. With Talos' dying breath, he sent Tlevran down into the crust of the Earth, hoping nobody would ever wake him from his ancient slumber.
From the years spent under the ground, all of his skin turned black, and it turned his eyes a bright shade of crimson.

i.imgur.com/p5Y5tW0.png

CIVILIZATION

Mycelings

A race made entirely of genetically enhanced anthropomorphic mice, growing upwards to slightly past the typical human ankle.

Democratic-Republic

No powers except intimidation and persuasion

Aside from being slightly larger, Mycelings enhance to any environment very quickly, able to grow fur out in a very fast amount of time if the weather calls for it, and shed it quickly to where they can take harsh temperatures. In addition they have brains that contain most near everything humans have known upwards until space travel.

Housed up in the ruins of Great Britain

Xoxi is the goddess over this race. Well, post-learning how to make a race.

Mycelings are most definitely not combat oriented, and as a result are very frail.
They also taste like not good.

The Abominations

A race made of the combined body parts of other races, and were created for army purposes when the clones of the Merged came about.

Monarchy

The race capitalizes on being an amalgamation, so every other race's powers the Abominations could have, but it depends on the specific Abomination.

They'll later settle in Japan.

Tlevran is the deity of this race.

[User] Rhona had seen Landon coming, yet did not move. She took the blow directly to her shoulder, however, instead of light shooting out from the cut; it was fire. The steel of Landon's blade turned a hot white in a matter of seconds. Rhona grabbed the blade of the sword tightly. With a speed that rivaled Landon's, Rhona removed from her shoulder, swung around, then stabbed Landon's shoulder with his own sword. "Love? You don't know a damn thing about love! You want to know love?! Start by telling Cia the damn truth!" She roared angrily. A sudden large, bright light emanated from Rhona's body and the Earth shook under the immense power given off by Rhona. A crator formed around them and the flora burnt to immediate ash as the grew brighter, growing brighter and brighter, and even brighter still, until everything was nothing but white, then disappeared altogether and Rhona, Leon, and Shone-Lee had disappeared along with the light. The only thing that was left was the scorched earth and a massive crator; any life that once inhabited the area had either fled or perrished.

[Assistant]
A month had passed since the event of Claire's rampage. Yuki brought Claire and Xoxi to her own realm, where they would be given a chance to rest. For 'no particular reason', Yuki had also given Xoxi access to her realm, should she ever wish to visit. Yuki secretly hoped that she'd visit her frequently, as she couldn't help but have feelings for the demigod.

Over the course of a month, Claire had been living with Yuki. The music goddess was still trying to find a way to apologize to both Xoxi and Cia. At first, she thought a party would have been good, but then thought that her presence would probably sour the mood. Then she thought that making music for them would help some, but realized that it may not be a good idea either, if they knew it was her. Claire was stuck trying to figure out what to do, and she spent many sleepless nights thinking of it.

Claire also had her friend, Miriam, to worry about. That voice said he was searching for the blood goddess, and given what he tried to influence the music goddess herself to do, Claire was confident that a meeting between those two would end in disaster. She had to find a way to stop such an event from happening.

Today, Claire was in her bed, picking up where she left off, thinking on what to do on both situations. That is, until her sister called out.

"Claire! Breakfast is ready!" said Yuki.

Claire sighed, and got up.


[System]
*Organisation App*
Almost 130 years ago, a great meteorite struck the Earth in the southern lands of Alm'Zar. Across the world, prophets and mystics sensed a disturbance, and the followers of Trazyn claim that the lesser deities shook on their Earthly thrones. For within the falling star was a being, alien to this world, known only as Trazyn. Possessed of great magical power, it reached out into the minds of those nearby, the loyal guard of the Al'Nuk Empire, and asked for their aid. The guards that entered to investigate came out changed people, claiming to have found the only being worthy of their loyalty and unquestioning devotion. They were the First of Trazyn.

The might of the Extraterrestrial God expanded rapidly, as it promised gifts of arcane power and equality to those that would reject their political leaders, and swore fealty to Him alone. And he delivered, mysterious crystals implanted into the body granting magical power to those born without arcane potential. Great armies marched in His name, conquering those who did not come under His rule by their own will through brute force. These were known as the Infinity Crusades, and it was said that the legions of zealots were an unending sea, swarming across the country, twisted by the magic implanted into their souls.

However, the World is a big place. The Elves of Lysandor stood firm, proclaiming that Trazyn and the injection of His mysterious arcane power was an abomination. Great battles ensued, but to dislodge the Elves from their ancient forests was impossible. They allied with the remains of the Al'Nuk, as they pushed back, driving against the maddened armies, battling Eldritch powers, aiming to destroy Trazyn himself once and for all.

What happened in these wars is the work of many legends. The Al'Nuk were completely wiped out, their cities and holds part of the reformed Infinite Empire. Trazyn halted his great Crusades, having formed a peace treaty with the Elves of Lysandor. The tribes that had once dwelled the plains of Alm'Zar were incorporated into the belief, living in the cities or traveling to far off countries as missionaries, aiming to convert more cities to the world's most feared religion. Today, the Blessed of Trazyn, centered in the Infinite Empire, have spread across the globe, their religion seen in many places as being abominable and terrifying. However, they preach the equality of all under Trazyn, from commoner to noble to king, and have demonstrated this in their own empire. In many cases, the lower classes have rebelled in the name of Trazyn, forming their own city-states far from the Infinite Empire, loyal to Trazyn.

Beliefs of the Blessed of Trazyn:
 - Trazyn is the architect of the universe, the very first magical being. It was He who created the very existence of magic, and it is from this magic that all other beings are born.
 - All people are equal, for all intelligent beings are the same. To stand one above the other is blasphemy, and only Trazyn and his Prophets have any rights beyond those of normal men and women. This includes the equal division of magic beyond genetic heritage, granting arcane powers to all who wish to have them.
 - All of nature is owned by the sentient races, and it is theirs to do with as they will, provided they heed the words of Trazyn.
 - All belongings are equal, and all is to be shared among the entire population. There will be no rich, and there will be no poor, for all are equal in the eyes of Trazyn.

*Character App*
Name: Alice Nettlebrush, The Immortal Innocence.

Race: Elf

Gender: Female

Age: 12

Personality: While in many ways Alice acts as a typical 12-year-old, she has certainly been changed by Trazyn. She often knows things she should not have known, and possesses a strange, sly wisdom. She often displays dual personalities, and memories that don't belong to her lifetime. She is generally kind and caring, although she is devoted to Trazyn, seeing her God as part of herself. Due to the crystal implanted into her skull, this might be accurate.

History: Coming from the Nettlebrush family, a small family of elves who became a part of the Infinite Empire, Alice's parents opted to send their youngest daughter to become a Priest of Trazyn. She would learn the ways of Trazyn, and preach his name. They did this because they knew the Priests of Trazyn were well treated, and that it wasn't good for elves in the Infinite Empire to be opposed to the Will of Trazyn in any way. Little did they know what would follow.

Upon being implanted with her 'Gift', a synthetic crystal that implants some of Trzyn's magic into those born without when implanted into the body, Alice had a vision. It is said that she spoke many secrets, already knowing the 42 Names of Trazyn, and the greatest secrets of where and how Trazyn was kept. Alice was offered a choice by Trazyn Himself, and she chose to become His Prophet, to spread His will and to become a vessel for His power. As such, she became one of the 4 current Prophets of Trazyn.

Position: Alice lives in Areopolis, representing Trazyn in this great and powerful city. Here, she leads the Temple of the Infinite, which is both a religious institution, and the embassy for the Infinite Empire. She expresses her Empire and God's wills and stakes in the councils and meetings of the city, and oversees the trade relationships between the Empire and other people. This is an important task, because many are reluctant to deal with the Blessed of Trazyn.

*Character App*
Name: Ja'Lir Arian.

Gender: Male

Age: 47

Race: Human (mostly)

Personality: Stern and determined, Ja'Lir is only truly happy when he's doing the work of his Lord. He's an introvert, with a stern face that reveals nothing about him. He revels in doing what he considers the right thing, and places the importance of the 'greater good' far above his own life, happily sacrificing himself to save others.

History: Born in the Infinite Empire, Ja'Lir chose the life of the military when it became time for him to choose his occupation. He was trained as a warrior, to fight and die for the glory of Tazir. He became a master at what he did, both in his physical skills and his manipulation of the Gift. As such, he rose through the ranks, earning many medals in the field, fighting off those who would attempt to destroy Tazir. Eventually, through his valor and skill, he was chosen to be the personal guard for Alice, and to represent the Arm of Tazir in Areopolis. He accepted this post gladly.

Position: As Alice's Paladin, it is Ja'Lir's duty to ensure her safety, and to kill any who would take her life. He is also responsible for playing his part in the diplomatic relationships between the Infinite Empire and Areopolis, a physical representation of Trazin's armies, a threat through his very existence.

[User]
"Ah, it's nothing. But I guess it is something for someone who hasn't been raised as an acrobat!" Zeetah corrected himself, muttering "Gotta remember not everyone's an acrobat, Zeet, come on," under his breath.

"So what brings you to the slums? I don't really know what this place is, but it's warm and crowded. But," he paused, looking down at the man, "now I'm not sure I want to be in there... Hey, you think this guy's got any money?" Zeetah crouched down over the unconscious man, checking his pockets but ultimately finding nothing.

[Assistant]
The cat reached a hand back to scratch at his neck as he considered the frog's words. "Well, uh I went from walking on four legs to two legs, so any sort of motion that tops that tends to be a bit impressive--" He coughed into a fist and stopped himself.

"Brings me to the slums?" He repeated, evidently confused. He placed his hands on his hips and glanced around, surveying his surroundings. He winced, then chewed his lower lip in contemplation. "It certainly does appear to be a slum, now you mention it. huh." He murmured. He gave an exaggerated shrug. "Just kinda... dropped in, I guess. I was in a really, really big hurry and cast a teleportation spell, without any particular thought for any actual destination. Quite foolish, that. It could have ended in oh so many bad ways. To name a few, one possibility was me getting trapped in another plane of existence, or, another fun one, getting spewed all over that wall there like the insides spurted out of a crushed tomato--" He once again fake coughed, clearly realizing he was perhaps going a bit too into detail.

He turned his head downwards to examine the wounded man. "He doesn't look particularly loaded. Especially unlikely, given this is a slum, come to think of it." He pondered out loud. He blinked. "Well, what are you waiting for? He's only going to be unconscious for so long." He laughed, perhaps a bit worryingly amused by the prospect.

[User]
Zeetah perked up at the word "spell". He didn't know why, but he had always been interested in magic and always hoped he could learn some tricks. A teleportation spell would be particularly useful, he thought to himself. But he had also heard that Ampharians were never particularly good at magic, or at least, none had ever tried.

"So, you said you were a magician or... what? Can you show me something cool? And teach me how to do something?" the frog was unconsciously bouncing in excitement. He felt bad that he was never particularly good at listening or holding a conversation, and he generally went out of his way to interact with people, so he never really had anyone to talk to and had very little experience with conversation as a result. Even still, this was an strange and exciting person with an exciting prospect of magic, so he could make an exception.

[Assistant]
Zazrioa was walking down the dirty slums of Areapolis even though he didn't think it was too dirty although the smell was something but Zazrioa could not smell it,Beggars were all around the area begging and grabbing at the hem of his robes but he did not cringe nor quickly move away form the homeless men and women but kneel beside them praying with them about the Hauke the creator."Cyt'ma Golte Makla Durwa" He spoke to one of the homeless men in a soft whisper holding his warm hand with his own scaly hand,Once he was done he stood up handing him a pamphlet of the Estrella de Celimna walking further down the alleyway.

While walking he accidentally bumped into Zeetah with his scaly shoulder,"My apologizes my brother...i did not see you... i was not looking where i was walking... He said in a raspy deep voice.


[System]
Age: 27

Appearance(s):

When you were turned: Not Yet, although recent enthralled.

Weapons:
SOLIDER Standard Issue Beretta M92-FS

(Future) Powers:

Gift of Blood
Once fully initiated into the ranks of the vampire, Lucan gains enhanced strength, speed and stamina than that of the normal human. Although it also leaves him with a strong craving for blood which he has yet to learn to control properly. As such without a ready supply of blood, Lucan loses control and falls prey to the more animalistic instincts of a hunter.

Enthralled
While enthralled, Lucan;s mind, emotions and beliefs are rather plastic to his sire. His dedication is solely to the sire, serving his wishes obediently without question. Being without the sire does nauseate him and eventually complete deprivation will turn him into a feral soul, without any form of self-thought but to rely on their true nature.

Personality: A mild-mannered boy, Lucan is hardly the stand-up solider one expects from SOLIDER. Rather a passive, submissive individual who prefers work behind the desk, and sipping his hot teas. But of course, with every person, there are two sides, the outer countenance which people know you as, and the one buried deep inside. The true spirit, the nature of the man himself: vicious, driven and cruel. well-groomed manners and soft-spoken words suppressing the need to be on top. The dominating tendencies which make a sadist proud with dark fantasies lie within this otherwise cosmopolite. For with all the benefits of productivity and dedication in a model desk-agent, so too are psychopaths in their belief of being shortchanged, and they will stop at nothing to right this moral injustice.

Bio:

What do you fight for?
Do you fight for humanity to be protected from the vampires?
Did you have someone important to you die, take from you by the fanged vermin?
A parent? A sibling? A child? A friend? A lover? Who was it that died and began your thirst?
For Lucan it was his older brother, Mitchell. A man he looked up to and admired, confiding his secrets to in hushed whispers. For a brother was closer than a friend, and far less judgmental than a parent, it was in Mitchell did Lucan find his refuge. To bear through the difficult times and challenges he faced, they were inseparable as close brothers were. But enough reminiscence, Mitchell died, after being executed as a vampire by freelance hunters.

It was a tragedy then, but this was the reason why Lucan joined SOLIDER. Not to protect the humans from the vampires, but rather to protect the vampires from the humans. Yes, not many share his views, but vampires were once humans too. Just like them, and deserve to live too. One could say he was too much a proponent of vampire-human interactions. Perhaps he was too fascinated by them, and for all intensive purposes, perhaps would be unfit for field duty should he hesitate to kill a vampire. For when Lucan analyzes it, humans can turn into vampires, but vampires can only be killed. That is their solution to the vampire problem, but vampires need humans to survive, thus it is the vampires who need protection and advocacy, not the humans.

[User] "What, exactly, are Mister Jones' crimes? I'm all for justice and protecting the innocent, but what have either of these people actually done?" Mattias had been doing his best to ignore the forced mouth on mouth contact that just went on, as that sort of thing had never really been his forte. "Also, why are they sending in just us to deal with this mission, seeing as how your group's last foray into nightclubs ended in disaster. You may have gained a werewolf but you're down down a vampire." The whole thing really did seem strange to Mattias. Is this how Soldier handled all of it's operations? And if so, why not send in a fresh group and not one already weary? Did the organization have it out against these individuals for some reason? Or was Soldier so understaffed that this set of operatives was the only one available? Neither prospect was entirely appeasing.

[Assistant]
Deon Erickson

Deon was soon met by Mr. Jones. He greeted him very formally. And the fact that Jones knew who he was confirmed he knew things that many mortals didn't. Generally the only people that knew him were apart the vampire community, people he has turned, people he has threatened to kill, and people he has killed. Though the dead ones don't talk. Though he soon mentioned about him bringing the feds on him. he responded with a laugh. "My, you can't believe I am the one who brought them here? I've been out of commission for about ten years now." He patted the well dressed mortal on the shoulder. "If the fed is here, they are here for you or someone with connections to you. And until just now, I was not on that list." He let go as the secrete tunnel was revealed. Mr. Jones wanted him out fast, and with reason. Deon was well known for causing troubles that many didn't want to be apart of. That and killing some government agents in someone's business is a poor first impression.

Jones's assistant went down into a trap door that smelled rot, decay, and poor foundation work. Deon followed the assistant for a bit, but before submerging himself into the tunnel he stopped and faced Mr. Jones. "I may be what caused the Feds to decide to enter the place. But I wasn't the one that brought them here. So be ready for anything. I still need to chat before mortality catches up with you." Deon Erickson continued down the tunnel, though instead of following the assistant once they were further down he split off. He never liked being close to people. Mortals especially.

Once outside Erickson could still smell the foul stench of the city. The only reasons Deon tolerates the city are easy pickings, easy connections, and easy moral crushers. But when he came upon the surface Deon spotted something that he wasn't expecting. Soldier. It was easy to tell it was them. A watch van was parked outside the club, it could have been FBI, but with the amount of bodies inside of it there had to be a raiding party inside of it. Groups like the local police or FBI generally use marked vans.

Deon had a few thoughts for how the next few moments could play out. His favorite was him walking up to the van like an old western cowboy, dropping his trench coat revealing his sawed off M14s, and lighting up the van forcing who ever survived the initial blasts to come out into the open. The survivors he would pick off using his blade primarily, if need be his magnum for well he was too occupied, and for the hell of it leaving one alive to send a message. But he didn't do any of that. Instead, he left the sights of the van before he could be spotted and waiting for when the time was right. Because tonight was not the end of humanity. As far as the mortals were concerned, they still had plenty of time before they were set as cattle.

Kathryn Miller

Kathryn, still weak but functional worked her way to the edge of the country in hopes to leave the island. With all the activity she didn't want to draw unwanted attention and be stuck in England. Mainland Europe could work if she could get there fast enough. It was almost dawn when she reached the docks, the captain of a large fishing vessel had agreed to take her to the mainland in exchange for funds Kathryn obtained from some of the corpses from the nightclub fight.

Though arriving at the docks she found her ship. What she didn't expect to find was an old man wearing an old and worn combat jacket. He was wearing a gas mask while standing on the ship's dock. In his hand was a .357 revolver, similar to the one she had learned to shoot when she was a kid. In the man's other hand was a blade that screamed death as he let it swing back and forward with the calm breeze. She was scared of this man, not because of his current appearance, but because she knew him. She could never forget the man. "Daddy?" She asked, hoping she was wrong. The man didn't respond. But she could hear his heart beat change pace as she spoke. She could hear his breathing intensify as he tightened the grip of his weapons.

Kathryn attempted to speak again. "Daddy don't-" She was cut off by the man's screams. "Don't you dare call me your father after what you did! Don't you fucking dare!" Kathryn was quiet, unsure what to do or say about him now. "You lost that right thirteen years ago. Thirteen years to the date as of three weeks ago." his voice was partially muffled by the gas mask, though he spoke boldly enough that that she would be able to hear him fine even if she was a human. "Daddy, plea-" She was cut off by his screams, and him raising the revolver to her. "What did I just say?! You don't get to call me that anymore! You killed them and now..." He pulled back the hammer, the sights of the revolver locked onto Kathryn. "I am going to kill you." He pulled the trigger, sending the anti-material bullet towards her head.

If Kathryn had been at full strength she could have dodged the bullet the second he pulled the trigger. Hanks reflexes were slower then the last time the two had met face to face. But she wasn't. When the bullet fired she ducked the bullet missing her by a sliver. She scrambled to her feet as Hank fired another bullet, giving chase to his former daughter.

[User] Sonja decided to explain the situation alittle more to Mattias. He probably had never heard of either of them due to him being outside of SOLDIER."Mr Jones is a ruthless crime lord. He sells just about everything illegal but most importantly information. We heard hes been giving information to Vampires. Not just any Vampires, but ones that want to break the Blood Compact. As for Deon Erickson. He's well renowned in SOLDIER for being a killer. During the Nightwars he slaughtered many of our top agents. From what Katya has told me, She and Allison are the only survivors from the Original task force. He killed a general aswell. Hes on our top 10 kill list. so if you see him. Put that sick fuck down"

[Assistant] Mattias nodded. These were the kinds of people he was interested in taking down. "Alright the-" The werewolf began to sniff at the air fervently, before stopping just as quickly. "Your Deon has left the building, I think. It would be wise to go after him now, if you want to take him out." It was hard to pick out what he believed was Deon's scent next to that club, which was full of all sorts of smells. "Really though. We need to act quickly before this mission ends up being a bust. We can handle some mortal crime lord and a blood sucker." He had no idea if they could handle some mortal crime lord and a blood sucker.

[User]
Sonja nodded and grabbed her M60 of the rack on the wall. "AGENTS, THE CLOCK IS TICKING. LETS MOVEOUT". Katya and Ashley both suddenly forgot what had just happened and put it aside in favour of their mission. The door at the back of the truck swung open the three women jumped out, armed to the teeth.

Sonja made her way to the back entrance with Roman, while Ashley and Katya went to the front entrance and waited for their squad mates so they could breach and take both Mr Jones and Deon by surprise. That was the plan anyways.

[Assistant]
Awake.
Back into the field of light.
Blow back the world of darkness.
And return to us once more.

A laptop quickly discarded, thrown away as the explosion called him back. Running to the debris, Agent Quinn had rushed towards the scene as if a field agent himself. Years behind a desk kept him busy, although his own bashful nature kept him from effectively working the field. Something his superiors always said he hadn't the balls for. Truth be told, he enjoyed his work behind the scenes, despite the regimental training of field officers he subject himself to anyways. Knowing how to handle a field operation did help in assisting those on the ground with layouts and ops as he knew what they would want to hear. That being said, this was the first time he was thrust into such a situation. And his heart was racing.

Scrap Metal, shattered glass, and searing flames. Smoke filled his lungs, wafting though the burning fuel as the lights of local police and sirens began to whirl. Only two local officers were there, accessing the situation, at which a quick flash of his credentials let him in between the two confused law enforcement agents. This was SOLIDER vehicle, transporting a vampire SOLIDER agent, and since he was the closest agent on the ground, Agent Quinn had jurisdiction to check the body. Coughing through the smoke, and bending down to crawl through the shattered window to check on the agent he just saw moments ago before he stepped into the exploding vessel.

"Agent Varomere?" His voice calling out like a hand in the shadows which gripped Mithias' consciousness. Hands undoing the buckle, carefully cradling his neck to check for whiplash damage, before dragging out the vampire lord's body from the overturned sedan. Injuries were apparent, but certainly nothing a vampire could heal from in time, yet Agent Quinn was far more concerned for the survivability of Mithias as to have his assigned field officer die returning from assignment? Well that would certainly be a terrible report to have to write, especially Mithias. Yet blood was everywhere, the blood on his hands as he pulled Mithias through. He could not risk it, and whatever the case, it had to be done. Tearing apart the shirt, and beginning the compressions. They still bled right? Their hearts still needed to work? Even vampires had to breathe right? "Please don't die on me sir... Please..."

And yet in the rush of it all, with adrenaline stronger than thoughts it had happened. An innocent moment where blood was consumed. Agent Quinn was now under the spell, marked to be enthralled by Mithias, slowly every so slowly as the blood ate away at his will. With each pump, he felt himself dying a little, and with each exchange he lived again. The Red-headed desk agent was now Mithias' personal assistant, even beyond the roles they played in Solider. A vassal to the master, one who had dropped everything to run back to him and make sure he was alive, and by doing so sealed his own fate.

Who was it that rigged the sedan to explode? No chance that MI6 would have done so fast, and certainly Solider would have checked the vehicle for safety... The laptop was still there, on the floor where Agent Quinn had set it. And should he desire to find out who set the explosion, all he had to do was look into Mithias' files. Of which were now restricted.

Awaken Mithias.
Your blood mixed into his.
Your new child attempts to bring you back to life.