[System]
Age: 18

Appearance: Rock n Roll

Arcana: Hanged Man

Build: 6'7"/114Kg
Personality: He is a thorough survivor. No matter the odds and no matter the enemies, he finds a way to live another day. For a life steeped in self-defense at an early age, he is still quite astute a student. Always near the top with his grades, it is after-school that he involves himself in a struggle of survival. All the while the failing health of his mother and a young sister compounding his struggle manifold. He is trained to look after himself and those he loves and no matter the odds or the sacrifices he'll see this through.

Background: Being a Gaijin in a strangely xenophobic environment isn't much good for a child. And when you are naturally as close to a bear things get ugly quickly. Born to a mixed couple in the high streets of Tokyo, Alexei hadn't hoped to get a life he got. After his father got killed in a building accident, Alexei all of 7 years was left alone to look after an ailing mother suffering from added dose of depression and a young sister he had to protect. The fact that he excelled in a strict academic system being an outsider was somewhat a cause of displeasure amongst his so called friends. As he hadn't paid heed to budding envy that sowly transformed to hate about the time the family fortune slowly trickled out of the coffers to look after his family.

So young Alexei, took various oddjobs to earn what little he could and help in anyway he can. He took over his mother's trade account, a gift from his foresighted father and at an early age began to study the share-market as closely he can. He knew whatever jobs he did will only barely scrape them through, it was the money from transactions in the shares that will be the major chunk. He also took upon the cleaning duties of the house and his mother since they couldn't afford help from outside.

Then came the decision of shifting to a cheaper locale with an accessible hospital, His sister's good education and development of hobbies and other such things. All the while, the fires that stoked envy in his contemporaries grew stronger. Then an incident happened. Heavily labored as he was, he now had to fight for his skin and his family's. As his sister was the mode to get a decent hit on him. Her Karate instructor, a brother of his classmate tried to molest her and though like many victims she tried to hide it, Alexei sniffed it out.

Heartbreak was followed by a bout of insane wrath as he flew into his dojo and beat the man into a bloody pulp, making more enemies on the way. This meant that it was judicious to leave town and thus, the Dragunovs came to Warakuma. Learning from his experience, he trains himself in jiujitsu at the local dojo, juggles gym, works in a construction company as part-time, manages the account of his mother and is the nanny to his sister along with being subjected to strange dreams and a long nosed Russian.

Equipment/Skills: pack of Luckies, keys to bike, wrist wraps and a zippo.

Persona: Prometheus - Prometheus was one of the Titans to side with Zeus and his siblings in the great war against the Titans, the original occupiers of Mount Olympus. When Zeus won the war and banished Prometheus' brethren to Tartarus for eternity, Prometheus and his brother Epimethius were given the task of populating the earth with creations. Epimetheus, who created the beasts of the world, gave his creations all of the gifts that could be bestowed, leaving Prometheus with nothing to give to Humanity. To compensate, Prometheus stole fire from Mount Olympus, incurring Zeus' wrath. However, it wasn't until he taught mankind how to trick the gods that he was given his ultimate punishment. Chained to a rock for all time, his liver was eaten every day by a great eagle sent by Zeus. Immortal, he could never die and his liver would regrow. And so he suffered, until the Greek hero Herakles freed him from his torment during the course of his famous Twelve Labors.

Appearance:

Abilities: Agi, Makatranda

Non-Persona Users

Name: Sagat Shrichapan
Age: 17
Build: 6'1"/ 89kgs
Gender: Male
Appearance:

Backstory: The tall dark guy who was mostly avoided of the aura he gave off. Sagat didn't have many friends in Yokohama where his family had lived for three generations. So when the offer of a possible opportunity of taking over a Thai restaurant came to his father, Sagat had hardly anything to lose from the shift. Warakuma was a silent pocket in the interior of Japan and though the people didn't give a oppressive xenophobic feeling like in his birthplace, many people still avoided him. With no underground scene to keep himself busy he took up the charge of server in the restaurant his father was planning of overtaking.

Trained in Muay Boran from a young age, he is a dangerous and belligerent fighter in the ring, his personality changing a lot within the four ropes. He was famous as the 'Daitengu of Yokohama' in the underground circuit back at his birthplace. He has come to Warakuma to change the pace somewhat.

Name: Inoue Matsuhita
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Build: 5'8"/ 59Kg

Backstory: Growing up Inoue was the fat girl that most her classmates made fun off, it gave her a serious complex of her appearance. When in Junior school she tried joining the martial arts club to improve herself she was mocked and mistreated for her bulging girth. Her pride wounded and self confidence down the drain, she came home crying and swore to not go school again. After a few days of constant convincing her mother finally changed the little girl's heart and as an added bonus found her a coach.

Seiji Mitsuhara, was a man of few words and even fewer things to lose. He was a martial artist who had fallen on bad days as he had gone bankrupt by his agent's swindling and was in dumps. When Inoue's mother approached with a earnest request, he thought he could make enough buck to live a average life. He moved to Warakuma and began his mission to transform Inoue.

Little by little as a mallet forges a fine blade Seiji remade Inoue, a prodigy hidden under all that lard. Four years of home schooling and a regimen that made her cough sweat out of her lungs he unleashed her in the Middle school tournament. Her final fight lasted a record one minute and with it her confidence and pride was restored. With a knowledge that those who mocked her could never be where she is and they'd always find a way to show her down she stopped giving a fuck.

She kept on training and slowly her ambition grew, the gruesome world of MMA being on her list next. Her intense home training continued but now she had company at school, two guys who were as far from the norm as oil to water.

[User]
Alexei Dragunov | Tuesday, June 9 - After School

Something was amiss. Alexei couldn't exactly pin it down to anything but somehow he had a weird feeling the whole day. Both the kidnapped had joined back school today and though he had thought of going to visit them, he had thought of attending his MMA club for once. For some strange reason, Sagat didn't seem in the mood today and Inoue had to be somewhere.

She rarely missed a chance to spar with the burly boys, so wherever she had to be must have been really important. Alexei had decided to take a day off from visiting any other clubs of his interest and decided to go to the Agriculture Club instead. He knew Harvester had convinced the Kotori to be a part of the club and it was a place where he could check on her again. This whole day had been a bit uncomfortable, perhaps it was worry of some kind eating at his psyche. Alexei wasn't sure.

Slowly, he trudged to the Agriculture room. He could make out two distinct female voices and a male boisterous one. Surely, Matt had a few followers. Seeing how he too was a foreigner. His club hadn't seen the kind of attention some others had shown. Alexei knocked lightly on the door to announce his presence.

"Hello!" his low voice thundered. As the others turned to take notice, his phone beeped.

A message from Elena.

"No practice today. I'm going to see Mom. Love E."

Alexei gave it a glance and slid it back into the pocket. His stomach still rumbling faintly. Something was prying at his nerves. But checking on his benefactor came first.

"How are you, Shirohane-san?" he asked politely.

[Assistant]
Warakuma High - Manga Club
9/6/2015 Tuesday

"It's fine, I don't come around here too often", he reassured Ryan. So Akane was either late or doing something else today, he decided to get one of the manga books that were neatly on the shelf and started reading, though before he could pick, Akane had arrived. It seems today was going to be a pretty quiet club day. The rest of the day went by pretty normally when Akane arrived, mostly just talking about the manga they were reading, or had finished reading, or were thinking about reading. After club was over everyone headed home after saying their farewells for the day.

Warakuma Mall - Afterschool
13/6/2015 Saturday

Today was an early day for school, so Rui decided to head down to the mall area and check out if there was anything new at the shops there. The rest of the week went by pretty unceremoniously, and without much incident, he heard from Kami that police were confused, they weren't sure whether to take these disappearances seriously or not, since some were short enough that it could merely have been a runaway and wasn't kidnapping. Basically, for them the case was all over the place. They think it's not related to the kidnappings last year.

In any case, it was likely Rui was going to just head down to the arcade to finish up the day after browsing the shops in the area.

[User]
Shizuka Otonashi || Warakuma High || June 13 SAT: After School
The rest of the week for the freshman went pretty uneventful, other than the occasional staring towards the agriculture club president during meetings without realizing it herself. Kotori seemed to have caught on without either of them mentioning anything but the raven haired maiden was glad nothing seemed to have changed in the club. Not much changed even with her relationship with the president, though they both knew of their mutual feelings towards one another at least.

Today happened to be a day free from club meeting and part time work at the cafe so the girl found herself at the door to class 2-2. Why, one might ask. While the rest of the week might've gone uneventful for Shizuka, a gossip about a certain person she knew was being spread among the student body. It was not a pleasant one at that. Out of concern, the underclassman decided to pay a visit to that one upperclassman.

Before peeking her head into the classroom, the freshman called out in a hesitant voice as she slid the door, "Is Saji-senpai available...?"

[Assistant]
Ayano Wakahisa: Warakuma High - After School
13/6/2015, Saturday

The past few days have been rather uneventful, after getting her bearings together, Ayano's life slowly returned to normalcy, well as normal as one can get when they just experienced something that was quite literally an out-of-world experience. If it was something worth mentioning though, the girl found herself acting quite more happy and upbeat after the experience, making a small number of friends in the process as well as spending less of her time in the web, although she does spend still quite a hefty amount of time on the web, it wasn't as bad as before. As the day came to a halt, she looked out the window and pondered to herself...What should she do after school?

Humming to herself, there wasn't particularly anything planned at this time, so maybe she'll just lounge around and browse at the mall or something. There wasn't a meeting with the club today, she did miss out on the past meeting though. She shrugged, saying that she'll attend next time.

Ayano Wakahisa: Warakuma Mall
13/6/2015, Saturday

The girl's eyes dart from left to right, looking at various book titles. A new, good book would be nice, but she didn't exactly have some money with her, so she might as well scour for it and plan to buy it in the near the future. Although right now though, not a lot of eye-catching of titles, it might have something to do with the fact she's in the Romance section and romance is something that she tries to distance herself from, the girl was stumped for a minute, why did she even think of browsing this section? She shook her head and quickly moved to another section, continuing her search.


[System]
Appearance:

 She's 5.8 ft tall.

Age: 29

Sex: Female

Class: Mercenary Engineer

Psyker Powers: None

Equipment

Armor:
 -Reinforced leather jacket, pants.
 -Custom Armor plating – Created by using parts of salvaged imperial power armor. Multiple modifications and corrections were made for it to fit its new role. Barely resembles its origin.
 -Armored leather boots with inbuilt powerful electromagnets.
 -A pair of armored gloves.

Weapons:
 -'White Skull' Las Pistol – a heavily modified version of the standard issue laspistol, this work of engineering has been created by Vala herself. It has almost triple the power draw of a normal laspistol, making it more useful than it's original, but it depletes powercells quickly and the wear on the weapon is increased, making the need for replacement parts quite frequent. She has created only 3 of these with the other two now destroyed. It's kept on a holster on her right hip.
 - MAG Autogun MkIV(Shelly) - An autogun that fires hexagonal solid projectiles. The projectiles are about 6 cm in length and 0.7 cm in diameter. She acquired this specific gun or at least what was the remnants of a gun while on one of the many lawless space stations scattered across the fringes of Imperium space. After a lot of tinkering and experimentation she managed to create a workable and actually useful variant of it. It has the same range as a standard autogun. Its flat projectiles/slugs are propelled using a system of incredibly powerful electromagnets. The rifle uses standard powercells. Devastating against lightly armored targets as causes both blunt and puncture damage with each slug. Lacks penetrating power against heavily armored targets, though still hits like a hammer. The rifle has 10 slugs per clip. Held on the right side of her back with a magnetic buckle.
 -Modified Assault Shotgun - Has a shorter Barrel and only holds 3 shells. It's sturdy and does the job it needs to. It kept on the back of her waist with a magnetic buckle.
 -Autopistol – Held in a holster on her left hip.
-Short straight sword – She keeps it for when she's out of all her other weapons. Kept in a sheath across the left side of her back.
 -4 small frag grenades.

 Other equipment:
 -A forearm mounted grappling hook launcher – uses same electromagnetic tech as her rifle.
 -Known to also carry portable set of tools during missions.

Notable Deeds:
 As a merc Val cannot really boast with deeds such as those of the soldiers of the Imperium, but she has stacked up a small list of accomplishments non the less.

 The Kroozer Gambit

 Hired by a Rogue Trader, away from the notable trade routes, Vala and her crew were tasked with bringing down a ork Kroozer that was discovered waiting in ambush for an unsuspecting transports. The Trader didn't want to damage his own vessel so he hired mercs to be his scapegoats while his ship would pass the sector, hoping to escape paying.

 Her crew immediately got suspicious of it and forged a plan to both do the job and get paid. Since what they had was a old modified transport ship, they pretended to be a random unsuspecting pray while a Vala and 4 of her crewmates took an assault boat. When the Kroozer moved to intercept their transport along with it's fighter escort, the assault boat rammed to the engine room. Following a lightning fast gunfight, they set 5 heavy explosives across the engines and left the ship just in time for the bombs to explode and cripple the vessel. During that time, their transport had led the escort wing straight to the Rogue Trader's vessel. Without support from the Kroozer, the trader managed to deal with the fighter escort. Their transport ship had susptained medium damages, but they got paid non the less. She later heard that an imperial Dauntless stumbled upon the Kroozer and destroyed it. Surely the Rogue Trader had taken all credit for disabling it…

 3 days of darkness.

 Vala's crew had been forced to land on an uninhabited world when they came into confrontation with a light corsairs pirate vessel. Luckily for them the elder ship wasn't heavily armed and after an incredible accurate hit on their part, both vessels were forced to crash land.

 Vala's armed transport had taken a serious beating and given the degree of the damage it would have required at least a week to repair. Without given much choice in the matter they were forced into a fight for their lives. After 3 days of almost constant battling with the corsairs, Vala's crew managed to repel the enemy and grant her enough time to finish the repairs in a record time of 3 and a half days! They lost 5 people in that event, but finally managed to escape the planet.

 Death to the Infidel.

 While on a break from missions and traveling towards a nearby lawless space station for refuel and repair, Vala's transport suddenly shook heavily from the impact wave of an immense explosion. By the time they saw what was going on, the transport was knee deep in a chaos attack of two Infidel class escorts on the pirate station.

 The station's weak shields were quickly down, it's frankly old weaponry couldn't match the two escorts. As the transports around it were destroyed, Vala's ship found itself with no place to run. She and other 5 of her 15 crew members barely managed to get to the assault boat that also doubled as a escape capsule before their transport was blown to bits by 2 torpedos. With the destruction of the station, one of the Infidel class ships left to chase some ships that managed to escape the initial barrage while the other one stayed behind to finish wiping the place from anything that moved. Without place to land anywhere in the assault boat's range there was only one option left. They used the debris as cover from the batteries, they boarded the Escort's engine compartment like they had done in the past with the orks.

 It was a slaughter against the chaos marines their weapons didn't really carry much punch. It took Vala mere 2 minutes to set all the explosives and move back to her assault boat, but by the time she pulled the boat away from the chaos ship, she was the only one left. Alone and heavily wounded she watched with a big smile as the explosions took place, rendering it motionless in space… She laughed loudly as Imperial ships started warping about the place, probably having noticed the chaos presence.

[User]
Once it was confirmed the Judge was indeed supposed to be here, and only then, did Ansgar lower his hellgun from being centered on the Arbites male. While most wouldn't have expected much when firing on carapace without things like the space marine Bolter or weapons dedicated to punching through armor, the Krieger had personally put such men down, carapace clad and even in power armor, with well placed shots and a bit of blessing from the Emperor. The latter targets, though, usually required sheer volume or well placed shots against the weaker points in the armor, something that was studied and briefed extensively by the survivors of the Krieg born regiment as they continued pressing forward. Every encounter costed men, but rewarded in knowledge in how to fight against such targets. Of course, with the Sister chiming in about how the defenses and Inquisitor herself were adequate in defending themselves and this place, the Krieger started getting this feeling that he wasn't going to get to avoid whatever social or pleasantries that were going to try and be foisted off upon them in the city. Sure enough, he was given a direct order to head into the city with the rest of the group, which was met with the stoicism and utter lack of reaction that the Death Korps so oft displayed.

"Ma'am."

The one word spoke of obediance to the order, as the trooper always would do. Orders were to be given and obeyed, given by the superiors, obeyed by the rank and file. It was a simple equation that somehow was mucked up and ruined by less disciplined forces. The Krieger had been rather quietly hoping that he would not have to attend to this departure for the city, not with the way the group had been interacting already. Considering events on board the main vessel? One should not have blamed him for hoping to avoid further potential for such things. Of course, one of the two main instigators, the one psyker that wasn't quite as overt a pyromancer, rather seemed to manipulate the warp in more irritating and less predictable manners, mentioned arguing with the Sisterhood to be futile. Like he intended to argue with the orders of a superior, and he grabbed his satchel of explosives, slinging it under the power pack for his hellgun and walking out, shooting off a comment towards the psyker as he boarded.

"I don't argue orders, ma'am. I follow them, without need for concussive separation."

Leaving that comment in the air for anyone to remark on, Ansgar strapped into the transport, securing himself and his kit just in case that they would hit turbulent weather. The fact they were flying into a city for a few errands, not into a warzone, meant nothing to the Krieger. Warzones could break out without warning, they tended to, it was rather rude of them really. But such was the realities of war, one was never ready for it. They could merely be as close as possible to being ready, and improvise the rest. Once again, if not for anyone watching him strap him, he might as well be still and unliving, or perhaps a pile of equipment. He hated flying, too little control. Chimeras and other ground transport was better, usually, since they could use vehicle mounted weapons to fight back. Air transport? Typically not so much. Which meant hang on for dear life and pray to the Emperor that, if you didn't make it, you didn't realize you didn't until you were before the Emperor himself for judgement.

[Assistant]
Eventually Vala let out a sigh as she dashed off back to her room to quickly put on her battle armor. With that nimbly done, she hastily attached all the weapons to their magnetic buckles and returned to the shuttle where they were preparing to fly off. She didn't really like the idea of going full battle state for a dinner out, but she doubted that there was much choice. There was no way problems weren't going to happen and also the sisters tended to attract trouble everywhere they went...

 She didn't like the crazy psyker being their co-pilot or pilot. For some reason the mechanic suspected she was very unpleasant to take a ride with. Call it her gut feeling, but she didn't want Adrianne to fly the shuttle. Still she had decided to keep shut for now and simply checked the locking mechanisms of her armor one more time just in case. You could never be too careful with those things... wait on second thought...

 "So just because you have sim flights time you think you're suitable to ride a transport shuttle with real people inside it?" Vala asked with a sigh." I'd prefer to not get killed or injured during the ride... To fly a real transport shuttle takes a lot of practice and time to not fly it as a drunken one armed ork..."

[User]
"To fly a real transport shuttle takes a lot of practice and time to not fly it as a drunken one armed ork..."

There was a visible darkening on Adrianne's face as she heard the annoying voice of the impertinent merc sitting in the passenger compartment.

"That little heretical midget!"

Baring her teeth in an angry frown, Adrianne would lean out of her seat in the cockpit to look back at the passenger compartment to identify the source of the unpleasant commentary, before she moved to point an armored finger back at Vala.

"I'll have you know that in my test records, I had a way higher than acceptable rate of failures and crashes!" Adrianne remarked, wiggling her finger towards Vala as if tutoring a child. This movement was suddenly interrupted as she shifted her hand to stretch her arm towards the side of the doors connecting the cockpit to the passenger compartment.
"Besides, NOBODY asked for your opinion... tramp!"

*SWOOOSH!*

And with that, the doors to the cockpit suddenly swished shut as Adrianne pressed the door control, before returning to her seat and giving Andromeda a look of confidence.

"Besides, today's weather report won't include any flak. At least excluding the passenger compartment." She said with a reassuring smile as she motioned towards the dashboard.

[Assistant]
Herold's eyes couldn't be seen within his tinted visor, but there was no mistaking that grim expression he gave to the trooper when his gun was leveled his way. He was about to raise his shield in a swift movement, but realized that the man had a few reasons to be on edge. This was no normal outfit afterall, but a group formed by the Inquisition itself. He regarded the Celestian next after giving the others a once over. Odd group, he noted. Mostly female and a bit too bubbly for what he expected.

"Soveriegn has been...quiet as of late," he told her when she mentioned they would go out for a dinner. "But there is still a risk. However if I am ordered, then very well. I'll be here to give guidance if ordered."

He moved passed her, searching the house at a steady, albeit unhurried pace. He inspected every room he found, making sure it all checked out. "One could never be too careful," he muttered to himself as he left the last room before his own that he would claim. It was a smaller room, but it suited his needs just fine. He grunted in acknowledgement, and set his pack down, making sure to lock the door behind him.

He kept his weapons with him, however. He was still an Arbites, no matter the Inquisition or their affiliates would say. Making his way downstairs, his footsteps becoming audible stomps on the light stairway, he made his way outside and onto the transport. He gave a nod to those in the back, and set his shield beside him. Judging from his company, this night would be one he might take note of in the future.


[System]
I R L
Age - 20
Place of Origin - Alberta, Canada
Occupation - Freelance artist

A V A T A R

Character's Name - Alex
Pathos Affiliation - Drox
Role - Ranged DPS
Profession - Craftsman
Weapon of Choice - Bow
Domains - Wind / Conjuration, Enhancement

-

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Frenetic
With a pep to his step and a patter permanently engraved in his speech, Alex is the sort of person to always be doing something, and desperately crave doing something whenever nothing's going on. His impatience and eagerness can sometimes get the best of him, but he sees them as a double-edged sword, with many of the best moments in his life originating from decisions with no foresight involved.

His hobbies are hands-on, creative activities that reign him in well. Carpentry, plastic arts, sewing, anything that gets the gears in his brain spinning and keeps him busy.

Frank
Alex likes to talk. A lot. It's something not everyone discovers, as he is outstandingly awkward during first encounters. The people who've stuck around, however, eventually realize he doesn't have a voice in his head telling him to stop. He overshares, states what shouldn't be stated, and asks all the questions someone his age would agonize over but ultimately suppress out of a fear of looking foolish. None of this is ever done intentionally, he just marches to the beat of his own drum.

Adaptable
Not everyone can dive into the world of freelance art and make a decent profit, and not everyone can toss themselves into the commercial thunderdome of a virtual reality game and come out friends with various NPC denizens and enough money to leave the combat to his brother's guild half the time. Alex's impulsive ideas aren't easy to trust from an outsider's perspective, but he finds himself succeeding where others would fail through high energy and a good work ethic. Conflict with others rarely bothers him as well, and he often finds himself spearheading cooperation with the people he's warmed up to.

B E N C H M A R K S

I can't die if they don't hit me, buddy
Rather than protect himself with anything bulky, Alex has instead opted to use a combination of light armors, long range attacks and solid athleticism as a means of avoiding damage. This newfound athleticism, consisting of speed and reflexes, helps him duck and weave through blows that would have otherwise sent him soaring.

Jack of all arts and crafts
Alex's craftsmanship had already been passable prior to his introduction to Pariah, but the game has now given him ample time and resources to cut loose. While not an expert in any one field, he's found a niche making light armor and robes. The finished pieces aren't on the same level of glamour as what other crafting wayfarers can offer, but hey, it works.

Quantity over quality
Alex's signature ability is being able to fire arrows in disturbingly rapid succession, tearing opponents to shreds. This leaves him vulnerable when taken to machine gun-like extremes, however. His combat style plays off this ability for the most part, favoring fast and powerful arrows over anything slow.

Heads or tailwinds
His domain over wind allows him to rely on small bursts of it in and out of combat. Whether helping him jump a bit higher or throw off a lighter opponent's balance, he's managed to find couple of utilitarian uses for it besides thrusting his arrows.
  | Physical Description
Alexis Barnett's appearance had always been underwhelming and… begrudging, to sum it up in a word. Brown hair kept at medium length as a concession with the rest of the world, minimal cosmetics, the occasional cardigan or modest skirt in between rows of jackets and jeans. Shirts, too, followed a similar goal. Shirts that a woman would reasonably wear, at a size baggy enough to conceal a small bust.

Accessories, if any, were always tossed on haphazardly, as last minute additions spurred less by their wearer and more by questioning family and friends. That's not to say they were a bad thing. You could wear the baggy and dull clothing you wanted, Alex discovered, if you wore enough pink jewelry to shut people up.

Alex has been pessimistically aware of his appearance since adolescence, so it's no surprise to see that his avatar in Pariah has a lot in common with his real self, from his height and frame down to the color of his hair and eyes. His features could be described as "pleasantly average", a likely result of him wishing to not stand out and blend in. Within Pariah he dislikes wearing anything that restricts his movement and regularly wears comfortable merchant's clothing, as it's extravagant enough to signal his wayfarer status to others without having to adopt any of the flashy accessories everyone else seems to be so fond of.

Pariah's avatar system was keen enough to pick up on Alex's true feelings and assign him a male body, a contrast to real life. That ended up being a fun thing to explain to his brother Logan. Or in his own words, "Shit."
Character Conceptualization
While it could be said that the bulk of Pariah's playerbase had been well acquainted with the conventions of video games, Alex was an exception. Dragged into it by his older brother, he accepted with lukewarm enthusiasm, more interested in the prospect of untouched nature or trying his hand at art made through a new kind of medium. Logan would do the embarrassing tryhard LARP shenanigans he always did with his friends whenever a new competitive game came out, and Alex would go for walks in the woods and do medieval arts and crafts. That had more or less been the plan, until Logan dragged Alex into another one of his games again, the world of PvE.

Under his care, Alex learned the ins and outs of the "glasscannon" "ranged DPS" "kit" his brother orchestrated for him, with the understanding that Alex would leave for a guild more suited to his interests past a certain point.

Despite his initial insecurities he adapted quickly to Pariah. He focused on crafting armor to support himself financially, on the days he wasn't being made to train or serve as an auxiliary member to their guild's activities. Mostly robes for the magically inclined, but he began stepping into leathers and furs as he grew bored of doing too much of the same thing. In time, he began to make a name for himself among the denizens and wayfarers of Pariah.

It felt silly to admit it, but he was starting to understand his brother and every other player that was using the game to live their biggest fantasies. Having so many people finally appreciate your art, even if it was mostly just clothing after a while, was a thrill he had never anticipated.

Spells & Spell-like Abilities
Conjuration fletching

Conjuration ability that allows the user to create an arrow out of arcane energy for next to no energy expenditure. This ability can be "charged" to create a stronger arrow, but is slightly more demanding as a result and requires more time to employ.

Forest hunter

Conjures a heavier arrow with a tip that expands into a net. Can trap entities that are roughly humanoid and smaller for a limited amount of time. The conjured net dissipates after receiving enough damage.

Blowback roulette

Envelops the user in a small shield of wind for a very brief moment. Any projectile or magic attacks that hit them during the shield's duration will instead transfer into the ability of their next arrow.

Heads or tailwinds

A burst of powerful high-velocity wind channeled from the user's body. Used to make an arrow travel faster and hit harder, or simply help the user move. Can be used to throw an opponent off-balance, although physical contact is mandatory for this. Can be channeled for longer-lasting effects, with the consequence that it will exhaust its user far more.

Other Information
Although technically a member of his brother's guild, there's friction between its competitive bloodthirsty members and Alex, who only joined to learn the ropes. Alex is expected to leave after having proven himself capable enough. |

[User]
Location: The Laughing Worg Tavern, The City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

Sociopath. Bitch. Heartless.

Alja was in her face. Screaming. But Rael couldn't hear her. Hanako couldn't. As she remained stone-faced as the woman criticized her for her comments in her head there was a lot more going on.

"See, I told you they hate you." She heard. "Everything about you is rotten. How does it feel to have the real world be exactly the same as the virtual world? How's your escapism going to work?"

She clenched her fists as a reflex as the numbness seemed to go away in seconds. She looked up at Alja and there was no cocky smirk or attitude. Just defiance. Her comments about bad blood made sense, but she had no interest in placating to a broken down child. Kalie was not all that much older than she was. Yet Alja didn't consider her own age. Her own experiences. Did she think she had seen bodies mangled and ripped apart before? That she experienced death in anything but a passing way? It wasn't her fault Kalie was weak. It wasn't her fault Alja was weak. Better to be seen as unfeeling and strong than emotive and weak.

She went to say something but then someone else decided to interject.

Clank!

Dariel dropped the plate on the counter as he moved in a flash behind the larger woman who was the same height as he was.

"That's enough." He said, as enhancement magic surged in his body and Alja was lifted off the ground before he put her down in a seat a few paces back. For Alja this would be a new experience in many ways, but also in that a NPC—a denizen had touched her. As she found herself seated he looked at her and pointed point blank between her eyes. "What do you think this is? The gladiatorial arena in Theremia? Have you lost your goddamn mind, girl?"

[Assistant]
Location: The Laughing Worg -- The City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

Seele jerked back when Alja started awake. The woman still seemed terribly addled, but at least she was more…present now than she had been. Whatever things she had seen in the dark, Seele couldn't guess at, and frankly, was too afraid to. The lot of them had all likely suffered some kind of haunting or another over the night. Some of them, like Benkei, had begun suffering before they'd even left the dungeon, and it had not been an easy thing to watch. She thought back to how Kazuki had become almost manic when the tank collapsed—manic at least by the mellow standard she'd developed of him in their brief time together.

With a little finagling, Seele managed to gather up the table's empty mugs and cups in her arms and bring them over to the counter. She would have gone back to clean up the little spillages left behind, but a sudden roaring made her skin jump.

"Oi, Rael. Bitch."

Oh no. No. Nope. Seele turned wide-eyed to find Alja towering over Rael. The smaller tank's fists were clenched, the look on her face was downright dirty. Tempers were boiling, but Seele felt a chill run down her spine. She all but scrambled over to them.
…
"That's—"

"That's enough."

Seele blinked, watching the barkeep use magic to dissolve the fight, though it seemed as though Alja had been backing off already, thankfully. Nevertheless, that sort of intervention from a denizen was, to Seele, unprecedented, and it was a good moment or two before she remembered herself. The fight seemed to be snuffed for now, good, but it still seemed like they were about to get themselves thrown out.

"The man's right," Seele said, looking urgently between Alja and Rael. She tried to keep the sternness out of her voice, considering the barkeep was providing quite enough of it. Still, soft and sincere could often carry the same effect, if a bit more gently. "This is not the place, and it is certainly not the time to be at each other's throats. We need to be working together, which means that you both need to start behaving yourselves."


[System]
* Age: 16
* Gender: Female
* Race: Human
* Appearance: Armored, Unarmored. She is 5'1, with pale skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair. Her armor is silver with gold decorations. Her sword has a golden hilt.
* Personality: Fanilly is one to take her duty seriously. This is both due to a belief in the cause of the Iron Rose Knights, and a severe insecurity and self-consciousness about her position. She is well aware that she is young and comparatively inexperienced. She knows that she is only in the position she is because of her birth, as she was born under a full moon. This only makes her feel worse about it. For Fanilly Danbalion, captain of the Iron Rose Knights, she can't help but feel that they have a point. She's young. And even though the founder was the same age, she was viewed as something miraculous, almost a saint. Should Fanilly truly be leading them? This weighs heavily on her mind, and thus one of her biggest desires is to prove that she is. In spite of her young age, in spite of how this tradition has worn thin for some, Fanilly wants to prove that she is a worthy captain of the Iron Rose Knights above all else. Aside from this desire, the girl is somewhat socially awkard, sometimes unprepared for conversation. However, she is not really shy and can generally deal with attending various functions in the capital, as is expected of the Iron Rose Knights. She is dedicated to the purpose of the order, to defend the innocent and protect the land of Thaln. However, the doubts surrounding her have lead to a lack of confidence in herself. Fanilly has a younger sister and as a result has a somewhat stronger affinity for children and desire to keep the safe, but as someone dedicated to the Iron Rose Knights' cause she wishes to protect all those in need. While she has a lacking in confidence, she retains some pride in her training, as she has proven to be skilled at swordplay in spite of her youth.
* Brief Backstory: Fanilly was a daughter of the Danbalion family, a noble family already. While they had never been knights, her birth on a full moon immediately made her a potential future candidate for the Iron Rose Knights' captain. She was simply needed sooner then many expected. And so she experienced training for several years leading up to her instatement as the Captain of the Iron Rose Knights. Initially she was confident in herself, but it quickly became clear that even some within the Knights had grown tired of the tradition of selecting a maiden born on a full moon to be the captain. This wore on her quickly, and has lead to her desperation to prove herself.
* Equipment: Fanilly wears a well-made set of somewhat ornate armor. She wields a fine longsword in her right hand and a dagger with a curved hilt for trapping weapons in her left.
* Skills: Fanilly has experienced extensive training in swordplay, specifically in the use of a longsword in both hands, or paired with a unique parrying dagger.

[User]
Sir Garrett
Themerlinhawk

At the reaction from Marianne he refocused his gaze on her. "Probably some sort of beef or pork. Both of which are something wholly new to me in all honesty. I'm not terribly familiar with all of the delicacies the nobles in Thaln consume, my own fault really. Im use to plainer food than the rich food that usually appears on my plate." With a chuckle he tilted his head at her reaction. This was certainly interesting as the amount of real human interaction he'd had since he had arrived with the Knights was rather minimal; probably largely due to his background and stature.

Perhaps earlier had been a bit much

Looking up again Sir Garrett was reminded that he was entertaining an audience as his eyes flicked down the row of maids again. It finally dawned on the big man that they were half servant, half body guard. As he shifted his hands on the table it also dawned on him that this felt an awful lot like a test or an audition of sort.

Does she actually know who I am was the comment about eating with allied nobility a shot in the dark?

Choosing to ignore it for now Sir Garrett twisted his clan bracelet running his fingers over the runes as he contemplated where to direct the conversation. Perhaps food was a safe enough topic given that after some testing with the teasing and the reactions he'd drawn from the maids asking her anything more than mundane would probably not go over well. Now he was uneasy with the maids simply standing observing their dialogue; it was probably just because they would not be eating. Eating while others went unfed was incredibly uncomfortable when food was available since it made him feel like he was not properly sharing a bounty with those around him.

"When I first came to live here for almost two months I'd skip meals here and go find trail rations because it was much closer to what I was use to. I was alos afraid that the easy food would make me soft." With a snort he adjusted the bracelet on his left wrist before continuing. "I honestly think it's the baths that have made me softer. Its easier to let yourself go when you can relax in warm water. Another luxury I only enjoyed in the winters since we were forced back to the holdfasts to winter."

Continuing to not meet her eyes he let his gaze wander the rest of the room. "I don't think I could have grown up here and lived a life like this. I still can't stand all the stone and wood. It's so stifling, I prefer the open sky, the horse blankets, and the hide tents. When I was first here I took to sleeping in the stables. Another habit I had to kick but the horses were really the only thing I understood since no matter where I go they always treat me like family."

Smiling he returned his stare to her. "So now that I've talked all about myself I think it's your turn don't you? That or I'll be forced to ask your maids." It was teasing but he was careful to pay attention to her reaction. Sir Garrett wasn't sure what it was but something about him or the way he talked seemed to make the Lady Knight tense. Hopefully she didn't actually think him a barbarian. Much as he looked and could sometimes act the part his clan was as noble as the families here in Thaln. The only difference was that his family had taken their nobility at the point of a sword more recently than the families of Thaln and the rest of Velt.

Before she could respond he broke his silence cutting her off as he realized he hadn't addressed something that had been bothering him. "For the record what Dame Sult did was incredibly rude. No one likes to be the center of attention like that and I don't think you are use to being laughed at. Which is understandable. I guarantee that she wouldn't have reacted well to being on the receiving end of such a thing."

[Assistant]
Sult stood there for a second, her face quickly becoming red as a beet as she submerged her mouth to obscure the high pitched noise that came from her lips as she realized she had spilled the beans in front of the captain.

But if she left now the bath, Nero would no doubt taunt her to death.

Sult swallowed and coughed her mouth, quickly composing herself. "My apologies captain. I am not well entirely, mostly because someone i know so well, the Knight-Captain of the Raven Knights, my twin brother is outside waiting. That man has skill to press my buttons."

It was then when she eyed the other two ladies in the bath. "Newcomers, aye? It is glad to see we still get more roses for our namesake." So cute, and tiny some people are She paused as she gained momentum and slid next to Fanilly, having grabbed a sponge and soap.

"Now let me perform my duty and scrub your lovely back, Captain! As an apology for my behaviour."

[User]
Fanilly stared for a few moments as she watched the knight sink into the water, bright red. This was an... intensely awkward situation, to say the least. It seemed that life had deemed things to be intensely awkward right after the knights returned from their mission. Fanilly hadn't known that Sult had a twin brother, however, though now that she thought of it she felt foolish for not realizing sooner. She'd heard of the Raven Knights previously, after all.

She took a deep breath. "It's not as if you'd be undergoing any sort of punishment, even if it was quite an, um... outburst."

Fanilly wasn't sure how to take the comments directed at herself. But before she could dwell on that more, Sult offered to scrub her back.

"... Er..."

Well... it was nothing her own maids hadn't done before. Still, in this context it seemed more embarrassing. The older girl had slid up beside her, offering it as a method of apology... And Fanilly really did need to get going on this meeting. She didn't want to be sitting in the bath all day, having a series of false starts.

"... F-fine. I'll just speak to the new knights while you do so."

[Assistant]
Marianne Delacroix

Nodding upon the mention of his preference for dinner, she turned and motioned towards her maids. With a bow of the head and a curtsy, four of the seven left to retrieve Lady Marianne's and Sir Garrett's food. Turning her head back to face, Sir Garrett she didn't quite know how to continue on with the conversation. To her, the food that she had eaten as she grew up was simply food to her. To think that others considered her being able to eat whatever she wanted and was guaranteed at the very least three square meals a day a luxury, well...She had never thought of it like that. She knew that there were the poor who had nary a scrap to consume. But the idea that there were differing cultures in Thaln that lived that rugged lifestyle, by choice or not, was eye-opening to Marianne. She really needed to travel more.

Catching Sir Garrett's eye, she again saw him look towards her maids. Only this time, she saw that he appeared to grow a little uncomfortable. Frowning ever so slightly, she wondered if their presence bothered him for whatever reason. Perhaps she should dismiss them. Just as he began to fidget with the trinket he wore on his wrist, she did too. Lowering her eyes, she again messed with the placement of the utensils in front of her adjusting in her seat.

Thankfully, Sir Garrett continued to speak. Marianne's head raising once more to listen attentively. But again, the subject matter just made her realize just how privileged she was growing up. To think that 'easy food' could make one 'soft'. She could see what he meant, however. Many of the other allied noble families did tend to have rounder and larger bellies. Though she never saw her own family members with such rotund physiques, she wondered if it yet another attribute of differing cultures and customs. The food she was provided was always rather healthy, nothing ever too fatty or rich. Her intake of sweets was closely monitored as well, only allowed a treat when she had 'earned' it and done well with something. She and her brothers were never allowed to gorge themselves silly. Though, John hardly ever ate a thing. Paul ate as much as he pleased but never seemed to gain weight, the lucky dog.

Marianne envied Sir Garrett. Though his described childhood sounded far from luxurious, he had grown into a stronger and better man for it. Moreover, he sounded happier and free. It made it painfully aware to her that such simple things like bathing and the security of walls were things she had taken for granted. It wasn't to say she had a bad childhood, there was nothing but love and care for her from her parents and brothers. But, hearing Sir Garrett's stories made his youth seem more...romantic.

Lost in thought, she made a quiet squeak when he turned the conversation on its head and asked about her, having startled her. She didn't appreciate the hollow threat of digging information out of the maids, and shot him a frown for that remark. She wouldn't doubt they would be happy to oblige too, the chatty birds. She seemed to pout a little. She began to speak, but Sir Garrett had again spoken and cut her off before she could.

Sighing, Marianne shrugged.
"In hindsight it was a little funny, if not rude. I hold no ill will towards Dame Sult however. She helped you in waking me and it was rather effective, if not a little embarrassing for me. It is but a trivial thing to worry about as it is in the past. If anything, it's a memory to fondly remember and to laugh together over." she laughed softly and waved a hand at him to dismiss the subject away.
"Well, my childhood was nothing special when compared to yours, Sir Garrett. I grew up the youngest of three siblings, having two older brothers. We ate 'easy food', had 'softening baths' and lived in safe walls of stone and wood." she said with a mischievous smile of her own.
The mood was growing rather dull and she couldn't have that.
So, why not jest back and lightening things up?
"A rather standard youth as a noble. With everything provided for us as we were groomed through our years. The only different part being that we underwent training to become Delacroix Knights as well, following in papa et maman's footsteps. My older brothers were not able to complete their training, sadly. I was the only one to have the privilege of being chosen. Selected to go on pilgrimage to become an Iron Rose Knight. They were simply named Captains of their own platoon of Knights, Delacroix in name and blood. Yet not bearing the official title of a Delacroix Knight."
Seeing her maids return with their food, she waited for them to set the table before continuing.
"My eldest brother, Paul, was unable to learn magic."
She blinked, the corners of her lips tugged into a half-frown.
"Well, rather. He refused to learn magic. Much like you, he felt it to be a dishonorable method of conducting combat." she corrected herself, laughing.
"He felt that a true Knight and warrior should only do battle with blade, fist, and arrow. That the field was no place for fanciful tricks."
Picking up her fork and knife, she began cutting up her food. It was a simple dish with a small portion of rice, a cutlet of pork, and more than the remaining half piled with greens and vegetables.
"My second oldest brother, John, was a brilliant man and had a keen eye. He was unmatched in Archery competitions and took to magic naturally. However, he was physically frail when compared to myself and Paul. He could not fist fight or wield a blade."
After neatly sectioning off her food, she waited for Sir Garrett to eat first before taking her first bite. A maid poured her a goblet of water.
"What would you like to drink, Sir Garrett?" The maid standing next to him asked.


[System]
Appearance: Height: 5"6
Cyano is of an average height and has light blue, short straight hair that covers the sides of her face, but never goes over her eyes or ears. She wears a red headband to contrast with the blue of her hair. The headband flows out behind her hair, where the knot is. She is fairly pale, owing to her not getting out very much. She has brown eyes. Her clothing is very professional looking, consisting of a black long sleeved shirt, underneath a brown vest. She wears a pair of black dress pants. Though they are meant to be only for professional usage, it became too much of a hassle to change, and she began to wear them full time. Even to sleep. On her wrist she wears a small bracelet her daughter made her. Around her waist she wears a belt that holds, a multi purpose energy weapon, a ballistic six shooter of her own design, a knife, and a sword(the materials will be discussed in abilities and special items) For shoes she wears a pair of brown boots made for mountain climbing, even though she doesnt climb an mountains.

Personality: Cyano is, for the most part a very cold person. She has no regard for life, unless it is hers or her duaghters. She can be cruel. If she is fighting a person much weaker then her, she will end it quickly. But those equal to her, she likes to take her time on. Drawing out their suffering until she eventually kills them. That being said, she is smart enough to keep it at a reasonable amount of time. From her own experiences in her universe, her belief is that if the people she kills wanted to be alive, they would just drag themselves out of where ever they went when they died. Unbeknownst to her, this method doesnt really work except in a very few parts of the multiverse. She is very level headed, but can fly into a sort of serene fury when called out by someone she considers inferior to her. When it comes to her daughter, she is a very caring mother. She is also very intelligent, though oddly, this causes her to overestimate, rather then underestimate her opponents. finally, the fact that in her universe she can simply drag herself back to life, has left her very lazy. And why wouldn't she be? What's the hurry when your effectively immortal.

Bio:(i shall only focus on how she got here, as the whole bio is very long)

Cyano Conablum was the owner of Rivard labs and head of Conablum industries. A research lab and Android body manufacturer respectively, under the name of Rease Arch. Her own custom android.*1. Rivard labs was the leading research lab, with huge advancements in medicine, genetics, weaponry, and travel. Specifically instant travel. Cyano herself personally oversaw the production of the first Multiversal transporter. This first one however was only able to move between her own universe. and a universe she coined as the "dead land" due to the fact that those that died in her universe were sent there. She herself was later killed, and ended up there. During this time she found that while death elsewhere was temporary, death in the dead land was permanent. She also found that time moved, or at least seemed to move, faster then in her universe. These discoveries caused her to become quite cynical, and in fact led her to have a greater disregard for life. It also gave her a greater curiosity about multiversal travel. This led to the development of the linear transporter, which allowed for linear travel along one plane, or, the ability to travel forward and back between universes, rather then those connected to the universe traveled from.*2.

Abilities:

Natural abilities.

Intelligence: Generally considered Cyano's most valuable asset. Cyano is able to quickly come up with a resolution to a situation or problem. Her intelligence and strength of mind also allows for some protection against psychic attack.(The Uber Ethereal would be stronger then her mind alone however)

Strength: Cyano is incredibly strong naturally. She is able to lift a weight up to 300 pounds easily, and starts to become strained at 350 pounds. She is able to knock a rather large person back with a strong punch, and can even breakthrough weaker materials like wood or stone, and can break through weak or thin metal walls and doors. though reinforced or thicker walls and doors she wouldn't be able to.

Speed: Cyano is very fast. Though not the fastest of her family, she can naturally run a 5 minute mile.

Endurance: Cyano happens to be rather durable, though not invincible. She can walk off lighter injuries, and broken bones supposing on which bone is broken. A broken knee or leg would stop her, but ribs, arms, and the like she can pull through and find other ways to attack. That being said, breaking a combination of legs and arms, would leave her vulnerable.

Accuracy: This one should not need to be explained. Cyano is a bit of a sharpshooter. Though only with lighter guns. Nowhere near sniper levels of accuracy though

End of natural abilities
Special items and abilities associated

Nanomites: An outdated tech in Cyano's universe. As newer items were developed, and became EMP shielded to the point of EMP being innefective, nanomites started a weird period where they were both inferior to current tech, but also had no counters. Cyano's nanomites are vulnerable to extremely high heat, and EMP blasts. The nanomites are able to augment her natural abilities. Giving her greater strength, more durability, and are able to make her faster. Or they can give her greater resistance to psychic attacks, at the cost that her natural abilities are not augmented when she is shielding herself.

Saber Cloth: Saber cloth, named after its creator and her brother, is a cloth nigh invulnerable to light and energy based attacks, and cannot be pierced. However, the force behind a physical hit will still effect her.

Multi weapon: A weapon(running on hollywood cold fusion energy) that is capable of turning into an energy based pistol, dagger, or sword.

Arch six shooter: A sixshooter of her own design, it is capable of firing anything from a larger pebble to a .38 caliber bullet. It is mostly used as back up should she be unable to use anything else and her nanomites have been disabled.

Sword and knife:

Used for close combat and stealth respectively, they are also made out of Saber Cloth, though hardened and sharpened. They would phase right through a lightsaber.

*1: In Cyanos universe, androids are like computers. It is just as common to see people mind riding them as it is to see someone holding a phone in our universe.

[User]
[Switzerland, Bern]
With a flash of light and a loud pop, suddenly, Agatha Heterodyne popped into existence. She dropped to the floor, small bits of metal falling to the ground around her. For a moment she simply sat there, looking dazed. "Well, that just happened. I suppose messing with the stabilizers on the muse of time WAS a bit impulsive...." Sighing she gets up, looking around at what appeared to be the remains of a base of some kind. The scene was dominated by a large loop which appeared to be a portal of some kind, similar to the system that had been used to abduct her at the end of the war for Mechanicsburg. Smiling brightly, she pulled out her wrench. It seemed that, even moved across time and space, lady luck had not left her unattended. If she could just apply some modifications, this thing might be able to return her to her home with relatively little harm done, maybe even in time to stop the world from ending.

Of course, little did she know Apocalypse had similar goals in mind. And as the immense monster burst through a nearby skyscraper, she instantly fired her Death Ray at it. Of course, the creature dodged the attack with ease, her mere human reflexes far from fast enough to be able to catch him. The skyscraper disintegrated behind him, even as he appeared to materialize in front of her.

"You.... you are a genius, yes? I can tell, I was birthed from the work of geniuses." Apocalypse glared down at Agatha, his imposing figure doing the intimidation for him. He was well aware that he would not be able to operate the teleporter by himself, and as such Agatha's presence would make things easier.

Agatha, meanwhile, was trying to figure out how this thing had moved so fast. Not even the Jaegermonsters could move like that. It also seemed her Death Ray would be useless against this thing. "Ummm..... yes? Which answer prevents you from killing me?" She was a practical girl, and she'd need to buy some time if she wanted to get out of here. She still wasn't aware of where she was, nor whom's territory she appeared to be in. She wasn't even sure if she was in the Wulfenbach Empire any more.

Apocalypse grinned, as his suspicions were confirmed. "Then you will repair the portal generator, and you will move me to where I wish to go. If you fail to do this, I'll rip you to pieces, and find another to do the job for me."

Both Apocalypse and Agatha were well aware that she would not be so easy to replace, considering that the amount of people that matched her intellect could be counted on one hand, without fingers. But they were both equally aware that Apocalypse would kill her anyway, as it's sense of priorities weren't the greatest. This caused Agatha to refrain from commenting, her normally snarky nature suppressed for the sake of her continued survival. "Yeah, sure. Rebuild one of the least understood technologies on the world and transport you to whereever you want to go. I'm on it."

With that said, Agatha was distracted by the portal itself. As she opened up the outer surface of the portal, she was skeptical as to what she would find within. And yet, as she looked through the wires and hardware, she began to see a pattern. A beautiful, beautiful pattern. A smile came to her face, as she started ripping out and replacing things. "Oh, this is WONDERFUL. A space-time condensator to alter the flow of material objects between two particular coordinates! But if you replace this with this, and take out this bit...." She was a single breakthrough away from manical laughter, as she began enthusiastically remodeling the entire device. For some unknown reason, she had also added a coffee machine on the side. Few could comprehend the actions of a mad genius. "Big guy! Hand me the translocational calibrator!"

Doomsday looked around, trying to find this device, before realizing it had just almost mindlessly obeyed her. He frowned, as he realized he had no idea what those words meant, nor how she had commanded him. However, he could tell no force had impinged on his mind. A repeated order, clarifying the shape and size of the desired object, caused him to hand it over immediately, his superhuman senses able to locate the object before his common sense could dissuade him.

In full mad scientist mode, Agatha was remodelling the entire device, 'improving' the design constantly, even as she added in new features just to see if she could. Within a few minutes, she had created a portal device that simultaneously made coffee and shot lasers. The entire thing was like a frankenstein's monster of mechanical and theoretical science. But the important part was that it worked.

Within just a few moments, Apocalypse would emerge somewhere in the world, to wreak havoc. Agatha, meanwhile, would most likely follow. And while her form of destruction was less direct, she also had a habit of leaving death and destruction in her wake.

[Assistant]
@Hamstrong@Lmpkio

Grimlock growled once more in his alternate form before reverting back to his robot form. With the leg damaged as it was, it would no longer be wise to use in combat. It would take a bit of time and Energon for the wound to heal fully, something he would have to find later.

Activating his sword once more, he was about to move on the first target when the second one came from behind. Had he chosen to stay in his monstrous alternate form, he likely would have lost a leg. Luckily for him, his transformation made it so that he only lost the use of one of his arms. A pain, but it would allow him to stay in the fight, for now. With his sword arm no longer usable, he deactivated the weapon, and instead activated his shield. These pests were quickly becoming a problem he wasn't capable of dealing with alone.

---------------------

Having chosen to fly around the city for a bit, Starscream was quickly becoming familiar with the place. His cloak made him almost undetectable to the local pests flying about, which mean he had free range to wander about as he pleased. Of course, even if they could spot him, they'd have a hard time catching him. No one could outfly him!

As he rounded a corner, Starscream spotted a familiar sight. The massive brute, Grimlock. The giant appeared to be fighting two miniscule aliens, and seemed to be losing to them. Pathetic! He'd have thought Shockwave's favorite toy would have done better ... but then again, perhaps not. That savage wasn't the brightest of Cybertronians. However, where others saw failure, he saw opportunity!

Deactivating his cloak, his jet form once again became visible, and his engines would be the first thing anyone would notice of him. Unleashing a pair of rockets, they streaked towards the two aliens confronting the massive giant, and a few seconds later slammed into the street, creating a large explosion. He followed up that attack with a burst of rounds from his rapid-fire cannons. He didn't have time to do any more, as he had already bypassed the targets. He cleared the buildings and entered the large space around the destoyed palace. He made a quick scan of his surroundings before banking around to start another strafing run. Hopefully this would put the dimwitted brute in his debt! After all, it would only be fair to repay the one who, out of the good in his spark, saved his life.


[System]
R.I.S.C. Dossier

---
Age

16

Physical Evaluation

Quinnlash is a young woman, five foot three, average build, and slightly underweight. She has very long hair (dark gray streaked with bright yellow) cut into sharp, straight bangs in front, and typically tied into a braid. When tied, it ends at approximately hip height. Untied, it falls nearly to her knees. She has extremely pale skin, unmarked with the exception of scarring around her empty eye socket (right), over which she wears a black and yellow eyepatch. Her remaining eye (left) is brilliant yellow. She has a sharp chin and jawline. Her muscle mass is slightly beneath consistent with regular exercise, and she is somewhat clumsy. She has a tendency to stumble if she isn't watching where she steps.

Psychological Profile

Quinnlash has some very strange psychological markers that nonetheless make sense when her history is taken into account. She is very much

1) Outgoing
2) Friendly
3) Cheerful
and 4) Supportive,
as well as

1) Anxious
2) Emotionally volatile
3) Prone to attention-seeking behavior
and 4) Highly competitive.

In addition, she seems to bear a great deal of attachment issues (for more information, check her background information).

Background Information

Neither we nor Quinnlash herself know exactly where she was born, but all she can remember is the house she lived in for sixteen years in Hovvi. Specifically, she remembers her own room, as she only left it—without permission, I might add—twice in her life. She was kept completely isolated by her parents, researchers on Modir and modium, and was only aware of what they allowed her to be. The only notable incident throughout her life was, as far as can be told, two or three months after she snuck out into the living room and saw the outside world for the first time. Her right eye spontaneously burst (very likely a result of sudden modium growth) and was subsequently removed.

The second time she snuck out was fully, immediately before meeting Besca, which was the first time she actually left her house. She was intimidated and fascinated, and the world seemed to stare at her very strangely. The only known survivor of the Hovvi Incident, she was removed from the town's ruins and taken to the Aerie, where she was subsequently tested for compatibility and given a modioscory to interface with a Savior.

There are a number of strange medical anomalies present in Quinnlash's system, such as her bright yellow eye and the hair being naturally yellow. More pressing is the unfeasible level of modium present in her entire system when she was first retrieved post-Hovvi Incident, and the filed and maintained seed growth of modium in place of her missing eye. Interim-Commander Darroh has taken over care of the child's training as a pilot, and should be contacted for any inquiries.
Savior

---

Designation

Ablaze

Body

Tall and lean, Ablaze is on the thinner side for a Savior. Long scutes of modium not unlike those found on some aquatic organisms run along the arms and legs, forming a sort of natural armmor-weapon combination. The fingers are long and end in sharp claws. At the pilot's request, its right eye has been covered with a thick plate of metal.

Weapon

Ablaze's weapon, suited to the name, is a cannon as long as long as Ablaze is tall that fires explosive blasts of fire. The mechanism by which it produces this fire is unknown. When phased, the cannon gains a charge mechanism, allowing her to charge a shot for up to five seconds to increase the destructive yield considerably, up to approximately twice the size and intensity of the blast at full charge. In addition, the cannon shots can be detonated on command, or detonation can be delayed as a form of trap.

[User]
The first thing Quinn did after her eyes cracked open was yawn. Cavernously.

The second thing she did was stretch, grunting quietly in satisfaction as her joints made pleasant popping sounds.

The second thing she did was frown, still a little muddled from sleep. The TV? Why was the TV saying her name?

Throwing on a gray t-shirt and the same black sweats she'd worn for her phasing test (she'd grown quite attached to them by now, given that they ranked among the first things to really belong to her), she padded over to the door and pushed it open. It was getting easier and easier every day. And her focus was elsewhere anyway.

What??

She was on TV.

And not just her Savior. Her, leaning tiredly against Ablaze's neck. A memory of the exhaustion she'd felt at that moment echoed through her and she flinched. Then it cut to a clip of her backpedaling frantically away from Blotklau as ichor sprayed from countless wounds. The newscaster was saying something about potential hostilities and certain political tension between Runa and Helburke, and she stared for a moment longer, horribly fascinated at seeing her Savior moving in third person. Even now, it still gave her chills.

She turned her head then to Dahlia, cocking her head with an expression of vague worry on her face.

"Why am I on TV, Deelie? It's been days, right?" She looked back at the news. There she was again, making that...surprisingly graceful, now that she looked at it...roll as her cannon blazed. "Is this normal?"

[Assistant]
"Mo-orning~!" Dahlia called, sing-song, as soon as Quinn emerged from her room. She quickly prepped a plate for her; eggs, sweet toast with syrup, a peeled orange. Besca had drilled into her the merits of a healthy breakfast long ago, and she'd come to find that even on the hardest and most grueling days, she never regretted a good start to the morning.

She watched Quinn's focus shift to the TV, and frowned. She'd meant to at least mute it. Talk still hadn't died down, and while a modest singularity in Tohoki had diluted global attention somewhat, Runa itself was still very keyed-in on their newest, strangest pilot.

"Ah…sort of, yeah. Usually it's a couple of days, then there's a singularity somewhere, or another duel starts, or there's a conflict brewing somewhere, and everyone starts speculating who gets pitted against who." Besca had showed her one of those 'Fantasy Duel' leagues before, where people drafted matches and bet on the winners. There was, evidently, quite a lot of money in it. It never sat quite right with her.

"But things are pretty settled right now. Casoban and Helburke aren't happy, but we're involved in that, so the eye is still on you." She made herself a plate, sat down. "I mean, can you blame them? There's a lot to talk about, and once word gets out that we're still looking after Roaki, they're only gonna get more interested. People wanna…know, y'know? They wanna know about you, about the duel, about all that stuff. Actually, you might have to start thinking about your first interview. The Board'll prolly keep you in Runa, but you'll get to choose from a few of the big stations. Besca'll know more about that though—she had to go take care of something, said she'd be around later."

[User]
Quinn watched the TV for a moment more before shaking her head vigorously to both chase the cobwebs that lingered from sleep out and divert her attention. Instead she turned and plonked herself down in the chair closest to the oven and stove, which she had steadily begun to consider hers and where Dahlia had put her food. Which, she reflected as she ate, was just tasty as usual. Dahlia had learned how Quinn liked her eggs roundabout the same time as Quinn had herself, and it had rapidly become one of her favorite foods.

The main drawback to her post next to the range, however—well, not usually, but right now, certainly—was that she could see the TV just as clearly as before. The scene that was playing now was one that she knew, if she could still had nightmares, would appear in them: the swordsman impaling Blotklau, her own Savior roaring bloody murder as she dashed towards the two of them.

A shiver passed through her body as Dahlia mentioned the Board. Anxiety was still burning deep within her, lighting a fire and setting her stomach to boiling. How they would react to her blatant disregard for their rules last night was a thought that she'd gone to sleep with, and it hadn't disappeared with the morning.

She delicately placed the fork down on the plate, looking down blankly at the half-eaten toast and eggs (she'd eaten the orange first, because she loved them).

Deep breath. One, then two, then three. If she'd learned one thing yesterday, it was that she could tell Dahlia anything, no matter how trite or awful, and be taken seriously, answered with honesty and compassion.

"...Have you ever broken the Board's rules, Deelie?"

[Assistant]
Dahlia saw Quinn set down her fork, breathe deeply, and knew that something was coming. She didn't know what she'd expected, but a question of rebelliousness had not been it. Then again, why not? It was a fair question, and the answer…complex. Likely to be disappointing, but at least not in the way Dahlia feared it would be.

"No," she said, and it was a bit like admitting she didn't know how to ride a bike, or whistle. It felt…not quite shameful, but certainly embarrassing. "I've wanted to, but…there haven't been a lot. At least, not a lot that they've tried to use with me. I guess I've never made them mad, is more like what I mean. Yeah I've skipped training days, or played hooky on interviews, but nothing serious."

She knew why well enough. She never questioned things, never caused problems—though saying it like that made it sound like Quinn was a troublemaker, which, technically she was. But what Quinn was doing was good trouble. Needed trouble. No one should have been mad at Quinn for what she did, not at the duel and not last night.

They would be anyway.

"I've never done a lot of things. Being a pilot kinda takes more opportunities than it gives you. But just because you've never done something before doesn't mean it's wrong—you're the proof." She crossed her arms on the counter, laid her head down on them to be more level with Quinn. "You're worried about what they'll do, huh? 'Cause of Roaki."


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

[Assistant]
Ezra might've been delusional, but he wasn't stupid. He could see the subtle curling of the lip, the way her eyes narrowed as he made himself at home on the couch. It was clear - to him, at least - that he wasn't all too welcomed here. Still, it took him every last ounce of willpower in his being to refrain from pointing out that The Lounge was a communal area. If the girl had truly desired to go down the path of the lone wolf, she'd be better off holing up inside a bathroom stall.

As this… 'Alytra' introduced herself, Ezra spent a few moments taking her in. She was pale, but not quite as much as he was, with a peppering of freckles all across her features. Of course, none of that were nearly as interesting as the purple hair - an oasis of colour in this wasteland. A compliment was right there on the tip of his tongue, though he couldn't bring himself to say it. Not just yet, at least. He wasn't about to get all buddy-buddy with some he'd just met. Especially not with someone who glared at him just for taking a seat.

"...Ezra. It's Ezra." The name sounded wrong between his teeth, and he rued the repetition. There was something dodgy about any assertion one felt obliged to make twice. But it had just been so long since anyone in this hellhole addressed him properly, his name beginning to make the strange transition into a dead language. Ezra was disquieted to realise that the staff had ceased to call him anything at all. He didn't know when or how it happened, but one thing was for sure, this was all because of that bitch, Dr. Remmington. No doubt this was another one of her little mind-games, and that toady of hers, Jason, had to be in on it, too.

Speak of the devil… there he was. Ezra would notice that ugly mug anywhere. He'd heard rumours of what Jason did to the other patients, but that was about as deep as it went. Ezra himself hadn't witnessed anything he did firsthand, though he'd certainly had his own run-ins with a separate kind of degenerate - the closeted kind with cigarettes to spare. For a moment, his mind nearly slips, nails digging into his palm to bring himself back to reality. No, no more getting lost in thought. There were other, more important things to deal with. Like the conversation he and Alytra were having, for example.

"So? What're you in here for, then?"

[User]
When he spoke, Alytra could tell that this boy had definitely picked up on her signals and noticed the way in which she had reacted to his taking a seat near her. His face appeared to display that, although he wasn't too fond of her facial expressions, that he understood. Of course, that was probably a common theme for anyone here at Remmington's. Since all of the patients had their space invaded quite often and without their own consent, Alytra pretty much assumed that the others would feel the same way that she did about close encounters with strangers. Or, maybe it was just her, being "moody", slipping from an exciting "up" state into a dreary "down".... She mentally checked herself and attempted to control the ugly effects her disorder to the best of her abilities, along with the medicine that was flowing through her veins, if it was even the correct dosage/kind.

It seemed, for a mere moment, that he was going to share something else with her, but hesitation reared its head, and instead, there was a brief pause, and then Alytra finally learned his name. It was a lovely name, Alytra thought to herself, the kind that would slip off the tip of one's tongue, if not for the hesitation that he had shown, and the awkward repetition of his name afterwards. Was he nervous? Of what? Alytra could be kind of intimidating, but she wasn't that scary.... Was she? She thought that she saw his palm twitch a bit while she waited for him to say more, but it could have easily been just her mind running rampant, full of unidentified chemicals from the drugs.

"Um, my mom sent me here a while ago. I have anxiety and I'm mildly bi-polar." she confided in him, honestly, albeit a bit begrudgingly. She wasn't particularly proud of her disorders, and hoped that it wouldn't scare him off. Although a bit panicky around people, Alytra thought that she was literally going to die without someone to make conversation with. "Why are you here?" She pried, curious about what such a clean-cut looking guy could wind up here for.

[Assistant]
Ezra's eyes narrowed. Anxiety? Bipolar Disorder? Those weren't exactly things that got you committed to a mental institution, much less one like Remmington's. For a fleeting moment, he couldn't help but feel a sense of commiseration well up inside him. How long had she been here? Needless to say, Ezra had his own woes to wrangle, but there weren't many things in the world that made him feel this way. The abuse of power was something he'd always been wary of, and they had the audacity to call him crazy because of it. No one deserved to be in a place like this, no matter how incorruptible and virtuous they set themselves up to be. He knew better.

"Psychosis and BPD." Ezra stated, quite bluntly, voice monotonous with disinterest. His face was a mask of detachment, but if one looked closely, they'd see a flicker of uncertainty. Up until this very day, he still wasn't sure whether or not his suspicions were completely unfounded. Hushed voices and lowered gazes, those were the things that greeted him whenever he walked into a room at home. But he supposed that wasn't the only factor that led to his confinement; more like the straw that broke the camel's back, really. He still remembered how he stuck his head into the oven hours before they dragged him here - and he was so close to blacking out, too. The memory brought a wry, feeble smile to his lips, as he continued. "I tried to kill my family, and I guess they were tired of me trying to kill myself all the time."

Ezra would be lying if he said this revelation wasn't cathartic, and there was a sick sort of excitement as to how the girl would react mixed in there, as well. The therapists in here were useless - all they did was smile, nod, maybe scribble down some bullshit on a clipboard if they were feeling particularly productive that day. It was like talking to a brick wall, or rather, confiding in a goldfish. The therapists seemed to forget about everything he'd said by the time the next session rolled around. After a few months of this repetition, it was much easier for Ezra to simply clam up, and wait for the forty-five minutes to be over. With Alytra, though - or any other patient in Remmington's, for that matter - it was different. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, even if they'd never actually spoken to each other up until now.

"They tried to keep it hush-hush, but you might've seen it in the tabloids, once or twice." He vaguely recalled a headline splashed across the cover of OK! Magazine, and it would've almost been amusing, if not for its tastelessness. "I think it was something like: 'The Pinkertons: Richer Than God, But They Can't Hide The Crazy!'. You know, that might actually be my personal favourite."