[System]
Age: 29

Description: 65.media.tumblr.com/8b3a1ec3133c8d3d38..
Occupation: Nurse
Branch of government worked for: N/A
Location you were working in: Stillwater Vale Asylum

History: Nancy was the only child of two Navy officers. She moved around a lot and assumed she would join the Navy once she graduated high school. When she was 12, she was in a car wreck. Both of her parents died, and she was hospitalized with a fractured spine. Her grandfather became her legal guardian. It took a lot of physical therapy to get her to walk again, but she did manage it. It was clear, though, that this injury would keep her from ever joining the military. She was told they were struck by a drunk driver, but something inside Nancy made her believe she was being lied to, though she never had any proof.

In high school, a field trip to the hospital she was treated at made her realize she was interested in pursuing the medical field, and she began studying to go into nursing. Upon graduation from college with a Nursing degree, Nancy took on a job working at a VA Hospital. It was while working here that her grandfather died of a stroke. Reeling from grief and fed up with the system that made it impossible for veteran's to get help, Nancy began applying to different hospitals with military affiliation. A year after beginning her search of work, she was offered a position at Stillwater Vale Asylum, which she accepted immediately.

Personality: Nancy is an empathetic woman with the skill and disconnectedness that allows her to assess what a person needs and administer it- even if it's not what they want. She is still dealing with the grief of her grandfather's passing, and so comes across as sadder and wiser than she might otherwise. When not dealing with grief, Nancy enjoys singing to patients and playing checkers and chess. She finds her life to be very boring. Work takes up nearly all of her time.

Skills: Nancy is a skilled nurse. She is very empathetic- sometimes eerily so, picking up on invisible cues that lead her to assess people very accurately. She is draws, most often caricatures, and hangs them around her office. She sings to patients, but she isn't trained. Just an amateur that sounds halfway decent.

Likes: She loves playing chess and checkers, and can even boast that she's good at it (though she was never able to beat anyone who competed). Nancy enjoys talking to people and learning more about them, allowing herself to escape into the adventurous lives that military personnel got to live, something she wasn't able to do.

Dislikes: Nancy does not like deep water, and she refuses to drive a car. She prefers to take public transportation wherever she can, or walk. Nancy dislikes being lied to a great deal.

Extra: Her back injury is healed, but it did leave some damage. Every so often her back will seize up, and sometimes she cannot stand or walk for long periods of time. She tries to work through it, but often ends up having to take pain killers when it gets to be too unbearable, especially if she has to lift heavy objects.

Name: Dr. Shannon Elisia Brennan
Age: 39

Description: wallpapersboom.net/wp-content/uploads/..

Occupation: Biochemist

Branch of government worked for: FDA

Location you were working in: Maryland/Washington D.C.

History: Dr. Brennan grew up in Ireland. She managed to attend medical school in Europe, but only barely since the Irish economy was so bad. She showed so much promise in her classes an in her work in a pharmaceutical company toward the end of her time at uni. The US government got in contact with her after finding out about her extreme skill as a biochemist and offered to finish off her schooling and pay off her current school debts. She refused to go to school in America citing the subpar educational standards, and convinced them to allow her to finish school where she was, pay off her debts, and accepted a job upon her graduation working with the FDA. She worked there for 18 years and met Dr. Greene during that time. She requested a transfer to Stillwater Vale Asylum after learning about the opportunities to observe and research new strides in the pharmaceutical field.

Personality: Dr. Brennan is a quietly observant woman with a smile almost permanently etched on her face. She enjoys pain- feeling it and making others feel it. She believes pain to be the most likely path to discovering additional senses, to altering how the human body might react to various pharmaceuticals based on the chemicals that naturally flood the body when it is in the thralls of agony.

Skills: Research, laboratory experiments, piano

Likes: Whiskey, dressing up, piano music, pushing people to their limits

Dislikes: Vodka, being doubted, being ignored

Extra: Dr. Brennan enjoys messing with patients. She will alter the prescriptions of patients just to see how it effects them. She watches the patients for signs of pain- mental, emotional, physical, whatever kind it is. The ones who stand out are always the ones she suggests to Dr. Greene.

[User]
"Well can i ask what the meeting will be about?" Kevin said feeling a bit weird around Dr.Greene, Their was something about him that frightened him more so then the patients here. He stopped at the doorway looking over to the doctor. Kevin was worried something big was going to happen and he would be stuck right in the middle of it and it was something he would not want to be in the middle of. He would have to pick a side one that he would not know which one but it would be the one to keep him alive.

Slicking his greasy hair back thanks to the hair gel he used this morning.His hair was starting to become sweaty so he could smell the gel that filled up his nose.

[Assistant]
Joshua had his hands in his pockets as he moved towards the cafeteria, eyes forward and never looking at the one he's talking to. Her curiosity was amusing. Of course she wouldn't notice yet. Just like how Kevin doesn't suspect the doctors as much as the patients. Maybe Doc Greene but there were some that were as suspicious as him. Take Doc Brennan for example; sure she looks innocent, but she gives off the same vibes as Doc Greene. Guards that have stayed for years in this place knew that something was wrong. Not just because it was on an island and it housed non-crazies, but because of how people just seemingly... disappeared. Without a trace.

"I fear that they'll use you to get to the patients Nancy. You might end up doing something you don't want to." He then shook his head. "That is, if my assumptions are correct." He continued. There really was no proof to be honest. No proof that the doctors are the ones causing the disappearances. Or rather, the only evidence he had was them escorting the 'missing' patients down in the elevator but nothing other than that. It would make you suspicious, yes, but overall that isn't enough to draw conclusions.

His eyes trailed to the recreation room where the ones he had interacted with before, and Sasha, were located. Jocilyn and Xander were playing chess and the Russian was playing Solitaire from the looks of it. At least they weren't deprived of their rights to play. He then nodded at the guards posted there as a greeting and they replied with either a wave or a nod.

"Perhaps you'll find out more in the meeting. Maybe not." He shrugged. "Who knows, I'm just a guard anyway." He was free to make assumptions but in the end, he can't really do anything. Even if what the doctors were doing were illegal and inhumane, so were the things he did. And he still had to side with them given his job. That is, if the superiors decide to keep him in this asylum. If not, he was free to choose.

[User]
"I had a friend from Paris," Sasha said, then paused. "I have no idea where he's at now, though." He shifted in his chair a little as he changed to subject. While he was actually talking to people, he may as well try and get some useful information.

"Have either of you ever noticed the boats that come and go from this island," He said, his voice slightly lowered. "I think they're just cargo ships, but they must have a set schedule." He didn't know why he was sharing this train of thought with two people he hardly knew, or trusted. Because it sure as hell sounded like he was planning some sort of escape. They could easily go squeal on him and get his ass burnt. Or maybe they had ideas too...

[Assistant]
Thomas Greene

Nodding slowly, Dr. Greene clicked his tongue against his teeth. "We are going over a new schedule for patients and possibly talking about changing or adding in some new prescriptions for some of the more... Energetic patients. We will briefly go over a few security procedures, but it will all be included in the weekly updated newsletter," he added dryly. "So if you would like to go eat some dinner or finish your shift you can. This meeting is not required."

He clicked his pen inside his coat pocket and followed Kevin out the office door. "Nothing too over the top this time. We will be having our quarterly security meeting with all the guards in a week or two," he added over his shoulder as he headed down the hall to the conference room.

---

Jocylin Redford

Nodding slowly, she leaned back in her chair and her eyes shifted from left to right, taking in which guards and nurses were present before they got caught noticing things they weren't supposed to notice. "I was only there for a short time," she said pointedly as two guards made their pass around the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Once they were out of earshot, she leaned forward and rested her elbows against the table.

"I think they do have a schedule, but it changes up every few months to try and throw us off. Mainly, I think they are carrying supplies to the island. I have a pretty good view of the dock from my room and I only ever see them being unloaded. I never see them loading the ships from the building," she added quietly, her eyes doing another sweep around the room before looking back at the Russian lounging on the couch beside them.

[User] "Well if ya don't mind me coming i'd like to watch what ya got planned and stuff..." Kevin said shrugging and following beside Dr.Greene, Heading to and stopping in front of the door of the conference room waiting for everyone else to come in. Even though he would feel like a stranger since he is a guard and everyone is a doctor he was curious of what they would have planned for the wild patients.

[Assistant]
Sasha watched the doorway that looked into the cafeteria. He could see one of the guard's eyes glaze over them as they spoke. It was the one with the dog. He didn't linger on them, however, which made Sasha feel a bit more at ease. The woman, Jocylin he thought her name was, replied to his offered statement rather quickly. He was glad he wasn't the only one who paid attention around here.

"You know, in the Ground Forces, they taught us to read stars. In case we ever got lost in the wilderness, we could find our location pretty accurately." The statement seemed out of the blue, but Sasha knew just where he was going with it. "Now that was years ago, and I haven't done much stargazing since then, but I thought maybe I could get back into it. I noticed an astrology book in the library last time I was there. It might be fun to do a little brushing up."

He pulled his left leg up to rest on his right knee, looking pretty damn comfortable. Deep down, it felt good to be making schemes again. This kind of talk reminded him of the long nights spent with his men, formulating attack strategies and mission plans. That had always been his favorite part; it was like putting together a very interesting puzzle. All that was missing was the copious amounts of booze and it was the good ol' days all over again.


[System]
Grade Level: sophomore/10th grade

Appearance:

Graduation major: English

Academics/Clubs: Member of both the literature and anime/manga clubs

What would you say your home life is like?: It's okay. Things have certainly hard for mom ever since dad died but we get by without serious financial trouble, the fact that is just the two of us no doubt helps.

What are your dreams for your future? Your ideal job?: I have always wanted to be a writer.

If you were given one million dollars, what would you do with it?: I would probably give a third to my mother, set part of my share aside for college and spend any remaining money on stuff I want.

What would you say is the best thing about yourself?: This is a tough one, but as a wannabe writer I'm pretty good at story telling.

What about the worst thing about yourself?: The fact that I need glasses and look like the actor playing Harry Potter has gotten me the attention of several bullies.

What would you say is a fact about yourself you're most afraid getting out? I suffer from Nyctophobia, or to put it simply I'm afraid of the dark.
-

Codename assigned: Pyroblazer

Power gained: 561329 - Can ignite at will, also has the power to create and throw fireballs though these are noticeably stronger when ignited. Finally being ignited comes with the ability to fly at a top speed off 24 miles per hour

Costume design plans: Prescription contact lenses designed to make his eyes look like lava, (pretty much these but more realistic) a face covering red and black mask shaped like a dragon's head with large holes for the eyes, an orange medieval looking hooded tunic and black scaly gloves made to look like real skin with "claws" instead of fingernails. All fireproof of course.

Assigned back story: A fire-elemental who thanks to a messed up spell ended up in our world, Pyroblazer has agreed to help protect Central City while looking for a way back to his own dimension.

[User]
By the time Eric was able to go from normal to aflame in about 45 seconds and back to normal in 15, they were called for dinner. He didn't mind at all as he was starving. It seemed as if using his powers burned a lot of calories and skipping lunch didn't help either. As a result he didn't exactly talk wit the others, and not only went for seconds but thirds as well.

When he arrived in his new bedroom he quickly noticed that whoever furnished it for him also included a nightlight. Sure the design was childish, but at least he had an option besides sleeping with the normal lights on or having to deal with an unknown dark room.

The next day he was shocked to hear they were gonna spar, he hadn't even figured out a safe distance for others when he was on fire never mind any other tricks to avoid hurting someone. At least he wasn't one of the first two to fight, no that "honor" went to the math teacher and Paul as it turned the name of the sizechanger was. To his surprise the teacher ended up winning by wrapping herself her opponent. While he was still wondering why Paul didn't simply shrink again he was revealed to have to fight next.

[Assistant]
Thomas was by no means in any plan to become the leader or strategest for this group, but he was still going to find a way to help out. Back when Katrina happened, one of the humanitarian aids was a bunch of comic books for kids to help pass the time. It never made a comic nerd out of Thomas, but he still appreciated its comfort. That tied with the eXcalibur comic from the library yesterday got him thinking.

 He spent a bit of time burning the midnight oil last night to look up comparative powers for each of the members in the group and downloaded a ton of PDF's of comics and their relevent issues. When he found the anime equivalents he downloaded 'best of' videos. He left thumbdrives for everyone with their stuff on it in the table for breakfast.

[User]
"Finian, Thomas, You're up."

'Phantom' Stepped up to the arena and had to bite down on his bottom lip to not laugh as he looked over at the one in the red cape. This was going to be interesting. No matter the powers, he knew that he had to be fast. Sadly, it might be time to let his secret out. Thomas wanted to talk, to tempt, to tease. Get his opponent emotional and flawed, but is what what 'Phantom' would do?

Finian quickly jumped up but as he did his head banged against the counter. He squealed quietly while rubbing his head before walking over to the center of the room where Thomas and Finian were going to have their spar. Tis was very interesting, they had a very rough meeting back then and now are up against on another. "But wait, I don't exactly know how to activate my powers or anything..." he told the teachers while staring at Thomas and offering him a small smile with a friendly 'don't hurt me' look. Finian was very scared of Thomas, he looked like the type of person to draw blood on his opponent in order for him to stop.

Watching the way Finian carried himself, he came to a slow decision. Phantom could be a ghost of vengeance or justice, Thomas was here to be a part of the team. That starts with education.
"Then don't use your powers. Use what you know, rely on what is dependable, did you want a staff or a club?"
It was odd to hear his voice coming out of a psycho grinning mask. Normally he would have taken the hood off, but he needed to get used to the weight and obscurement of the mask. Making it hard for others to see his eyes also meant it was hard for him to see out, he would need to talk to them about vision enhancement if he was going to do this whole 'ghost' thing.

A staff or a club...? Finian didn't know how to use none of those things, but he did know how to use the computers! But that wouldn't really help him out in this case. "I don't know how to use none of that... but I ... don't know if I shou- how about I forfeit and you win the match then?" he asked while raising an eyebrow as he stared at Thomas with his very creepy uniform. Finian was obviously scared of Thomas and he didn't want his adorable face to be all messed up because of Thomas.

Thomas make a overly dramatic thoughtful expression, hand on chin with head turned up to the ceiling. "Hmmmm...Nope. I promise to avoid your face. Tell you what..." Thomas fades from sight, fading back in about five seconds later, five feet from Finian with a pair of towels from the bathroom. "I'll make this a demo with you instead. You are about to kick my ass with your cape."

Finian slowly rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he noticed Thomas disappearing for a second before appearing right back with a few towels on his hands. Finian rose an eyebrow with confusement on his face as he slowly nodded his head pretending as if he knew what was Thomas speaking about. But no, this was the only way for Finian to actually learn his powers and to learn them, it will have to be used in this spar. "No, I think we should actually fight and use what we know of our abilities." he'd say with a nod while slowly getting into his fighting position. This fight was going to eventually and probably end his fear of fighting. "Just not the face, It's too cute for it to be ruined.." he spoke with a soft giggle.

"If you insist... Widen your feet, they should be equal to your shoulders, an 'H' not a 'V'."
When Finian took the moment to look down and re-examine his stance, Thomas would strike. He throws one towel at Finian's face, letting it open up and block line of sight for just a second as he stepped forward at a 45 to Finian's leading hand as he takes the second towel into his hands like a rope. The next step is another forward 45 behind finian, using his own leading arm as the guide to get behind him so they are back to back in just two steps with the distracting towel. As he has managed to get behind Finian, the next part is easy. He simply throws the rope of a towel over the back of his shoulder to loop over Finian's neck like a loose noose and snaps forward to shoulder throw Finian backwards over Thomas's and onto the mat.

This was a spar but instead Thomas was helping Finian with his fighting position, but of-course that didn't mean that Thomas was going to go easy on the pretty boy. A small smile formed on Finian's face as he did what Thomas told him to do before starting to run towards Thomas but his opponent was too quick as his eyes were blinded by the distracting attack and then suddenly his body was thrown over his shoulder and falling backwards onto the mat. Finian yelped in pain before throwing both of his hands in-front of him as if covering his face so Thomas wouldn't hit him anymore but as his hands were in-front of him, there was an invisible force field surrounding the pretty boy that was on the ground. Thomas couldn't see it, but if he attempted to hit Finian then his body would probably get bounced up. "Youuu win, you win!"

Thomas was surprised it went as well as it did, but even more so when Finian didn't immediately get back up. "Come on pretty boy, I think we need to put a facemask on that helmet for you. Maybe like the one for Vega from street fighter." One would have to admit how creepy it still was to have a wraith of black tendrils speaking with suck a kind voice reaching out clawed hands to pick up the other off the ground. "Note to R&D, can I get some nekode on the palms for this thing?" As finian took the offered gauntlet, THomas pulled the underclassman up and brush him off before muttering something into the winged ear of the headpiece to make the boy blush.

The force field slowly dispersed as Finian stood up from the ground while staring at Thomas. Why was he being so kind to Finian when this was a fight? "No no.. I just need to uhh man-up and I am pretty sure that I would be alright. I can do this... I promise." he'd smile at Thomas while his cheeks slowly turned pink because of what Thomas whispered to him. He was obviously blushing because of the whisper, his body froze and all he did was nod as a respond. But, Finian whispered back at him with a nervously tone of voice;
He looked curiously before staring into Thomas' mask as he tilted his head to the side wondering why Thomas was being so nice to him. Even if this was just a spar, Thomas had to win already right? "Shouldn't you win already, since you did just let me fall... and we shouldn't really take our time to fight, so we'll just say you win then?" he asked while rubbing his bottom, it really hurt to have fallen on his butt though.

"Sounds good to me, besides, a twist on the throw and I'd have snapped your neck instead."
He left that hang in the air as he used the towel to rat-tail Finians ass like a jock since he was already rubbing a sore bottom and walked off the mat, leaving the junior standing there.

[Assistant] Eric was impressed with how the fight between Finian and Thomas went, especially since as far as he could tell neither used their powers. "I never thought about that." If he did the same thing there was no way he would accidentally hurt his opponent, the downside was though that it wouldn't help him to develop his powers. He had checked out the thumbdrive someone left on the breakfast table for him but it showed him nothing he hadn't already considered. In fact it just seemed like someone used videos from popular anime, though admittedly that wasn't everything that was on it.


[System]
Sex: Male
Race: Human

Main Class: Titan
Subclass: N/A

Current Weapons:
SUROS Regime Autorifle
Duke Mk.21 Hand Cannon
Sleeper Simulant Fusion Rifle/Railgun
Current Armor: Spearhead Type 0, painted black with red decals.
Current Equipment: Galen has purchased several things that he thinks would aid him in a variety of ways. Currently, he has a combat knife, paracord rope, a notebook and pen, watch, and a flashlight.

Appearance:

Ghost Name: Cryptid

Personality: Out of combat, Galen Vassar is a fairly human individual. He is kind, often offering people his food or munitions, making sure that his teammates can operate at maximum efficiency. He has a particularly strong moral compass, tending to idolize justice, freedom and righteousness. He can be described as naive, gullible, and pretty innocent. He is a fairly sarcastic person, often making remarks towards his past in a negative manner, mostly under his breath, during combat. When he is out of fighting, he is fairly easy going, lazy, and a casual person. Unless something winds him up.
In a shooting situation, Galen becomes all business. Aside from whatever cursing, mumbling and remarks that he makes under his breath, he keeps the coms clear, only speaking when necessary. It's only in those brief breaks during combat that he chats, often praising people, or voicing his concerns or disappointments with others. Other times he will encourage his teammates. When he is currently fighting, he is a less nonsense, get to it type of person with a strong belief in pulling his own weight in the squad.

[User]
"You know how to use that?"

"Orion, please wake me up when we arrive."

Kazik had settled into a passive state of observation when there was a crash against the ship, sending it careening off course. Instinct took over, and he formed a tripod of sorts against the seat and the wall using his arms, and drew his sidearm with the one not in use. The pilot commanded that everybody abandoned ship, something which Kazik was none too eager on. Regardless, he acknowledged it to be the safest course of action, and prepared for an exit. This squad leader violently bucked upwards and crashed into the ceiling, only to be thrown out the blown-open side of the ship. Firmly grasping a pipe connected to the wall, Kazik remained in control before the ship stabilized a bit. Another round passed by the hull, looking remarkably similar to…

Oh no.

Kazik leapt from the ship in a twenty meter base jump, and landed with a roll followed by a stumble. In the distance, arcs of Fallen weaponry could be seen discharging towards who he could only assume to be Andromedai. Recalling that Guardians could be torn back from death in most situations, Kazik noted that he would not be so lucky. Making a quick glance around, he concluded that he was safe.

With a short blur of purple, a small servitor warped out of Kazik's armor.
"Scan for walkers in the area," he commanded in Fallen tongue, and the little orb began releasing a faint, radar-esque pulse. As he began to settle into an uncomfortable wait, Kazik heard a familiar sound behind him. Turning to face the threat, Kazik saw a Fallen captain uncloaking behind him.

"You fell from their ship."

"They had me imprisoned. I only grabbed my weapons in my escape."

"I do not recognize your banner."

"Ancient House, long forgotten. Worn for nostalgia. I am a mercenary now." Kazik was nervous that his lies would be seen through, but kept his voice bold and powerful, glad to have his face hidden behind such an aggressive mask.

"You will come with me for… debriefing." Kazik knew what that meant. He had said that to many before, always before their death, torture, or kidnapping. Usually the first. Reaching for his hip, his hand floated through the air where his sidearm had been. Looking to the ground, he realized that it fell out of his hand during his fall. The opponent did not respond to this well, and with impossible speed, drew a shrapnel launcher. With a single pull of the trigger, Kazik was sent flying back, his Void Shield trembling from the impact. He would not survive another. As he lay on the ground, dazed, Kazik saw the stealth captain approach him slowly, methodically, sadistically. He pointed the shotgun at his chest. He made a sound not unlike a chuckle.

"You are a bad liar, traitor. House Sin should have stayed de-," he was cut off as a small bolt of purple appeared as though from nowhere, knocking out the leftmost two optic sensors on the captain's helmet. Looking over, he saw that a tennis-ball sized Servitor floated boldly, almost defiantly, awaiting destruction. In a moment of tactical stupidity and rage, the captain moved his weapon from Kazik to the Servitor—a foolish decision.

Kazik sprung from the ground, having drawn his shock rifle during the captain's distraction. He emptied a magazine into the creature, only for most of the rounds to leave pathetic burn marks against the armor. The captain retorted, but not before Kazik drew a shock blade, using the extended reach to knock the shrapnel launcher from the Fallen's hands. With a lunge, Kazik impaled the foul creature, the razor-sharp edge and arcs of scorching electricity piercing the armor effortlessly. For a moment, the captain was stunned, a moment which Kazik took to calmly reload his weapon. Withdrawing his blade and kicking the captain to the ground, Kazik stood in a position much similar to the one he had been in before. Plunging the barrel of his shock rifle into the hole made by his shock blade, Kazik burrowed upwards as the captain howled in pain. Without mercy, Kazik held down the trigger. At first, there was just a muffled splattering. As the magazine drilled on, however, the sounds became less muffled, until shock rounds poured out of the captain's exploding head.

As the weapon clicked empty, Kazik withdrew his rifle and reloaded it again. He was breathing heavily.

Let's not do that again.

In the distance, Kazik saw storm clouds approaching. It was now that he received a transmission, commanding him to aid Andromedai. Grabbing his pistol from the ground, he headed towards where the fight that he saw had been in a fast gait, the Servitor trailing just behind him, still sending out pulses intermittently as it searched for the machine which Kazik had no doubt felled their ship.

* * *

Disgregarding the dead Fallen and pool of blood Kazik stepped up to his commander, identifying himself with the symbol on his cloak.

"Where are others? We should leave now. Virisk scanning for enemy artillery. I would not want to be here if he finds any."

[Assistant]
Zeruel had watched the card game for a time, but as it dragged on he began to zone out becoming completely lost in his own thoughts during the trip until the ship violently shook as it was hit by anti-air artillery, snapping him out of his daze in time to see Andromedai be thrown out of the ship followed by the fallen jumping out after. Veruna phased out as He bolted for the opening as well only to be thrown off by the ships rocking and slam into the side before falling out to the forest below.

He hit a couple of trees as he fell and landed in the snow along the forest floor. He rose again rapidly, Thorn drawn, to make sure there were no Fallen or Hive nearby. When he saw that there were none he laid back down and Veruna appeared to assess any damage. He sat up again and they both found that his arm had been majorly damaged, it sparked and jerked as Veruna set about repairing it. Zeruel kept Thorn drawn and looked around while the repairs were being made, he eventually received a message set from Orion requesting help for the squad leader shortly before they were finished.

He stood up and flexed the arm and gripped the fingers to make sure it was in working order before turning to his ghost. He didn't need to say anything, or at least do whatever the remaining bit of his speech function allowed him to do, as Veruna answered "The ship's crash site seems to be in that direction" The ghost turned to face toward the source of the distress call "i'm not detecting any of the others nearby" Zeruel holstered Thorn and took out his rifle, setting out toward the crash with Veruna hovering over his shoulder.


[System]
Age: 33
Appearance: Clive stands at just under 6'0 with a medium build and broad, angular face. A prominent brow ridge frames tired, but piercing eyes that seem to read your soul if you stare too long. He has a tendency to wear jackets and long pants as often as is feasible if the weather permits in order to conceal equipment on his person wherever he goes.

Concept: Disgraced Texas Ranger who's currently wanted for the murder of a suspect in his custody and his partner. What none of his peers know is that what he killed was actually the thing that ate them, but of course he couldn't tell them that. He's already a wanted murderer and a cop killer to boot. Adding "believes in werewolves" to his case file would do him no favors. Clive has traveled the country since that night on a one man crusade to find everything that goes bump in the night and shoot it until it stops moving. Recently, he came to the conclusion that he's reached the peak of what he can do alone and has been looking for a team he can work with.

Powers/Skills: Clive is just as human as everyone else. No special powers, no seer signs, no dip in the Styx for him. He just knows a lot about a lot of different beasties and he's a clever son of a gun. His experience with investigation in a law enforcement setting transitioned very well into investigating supernatural activity (not to mention his firearms training) and he's grown to be very resourceful, using any and all means at his disposal to level the playing field against creatures of the night. His favorite tool is his smooth bore, pump action shotgun and his handmade shotgun shells, but he also uses a variety of hobo-tier tactics and equipment. Clive is not above sticking an iron shiv into a fey folk's neck. He also plays a mean hand of poker and is worryingly good with a hatchet.

Character Wants: To expand his monster hunting knowledge and perhaps a group to help in his endeavors. Also, a bed. He's gotten more than a little tired of sleeping in his car.

Writer Wants: Looking to participate in an active roleplay with a diverse cast of characters. I also want Clive to grow as a person and make him really work at being a team player in a number of ways such as accepting that his way isn't always the best way, relying on others, etc as well as sharing everything he knows about committing war crimes against monsters.

[User]
She dreamed of lights. Shimmering, glowing lights that never faded and never dimmed. They shown up from beneath the water, like a lighthouse in reverse, guiding her ever deeper. There were hints, down there, of a city. A city with spires that seemed to ripple as the water flowed through them. A city with streets that turned ever inwards.

A city with some serious electric bills ...

Junia stared at the ceiling. She needed less sleep these days, but what she got was infected by those images. They didn't bother her at all, and that fact bothered her. She should be worried. But there was nothing sinister about the dreams. They just were. The city felt like it had waited for eons, it could wait a few more.

Her bladder, however, was far less patient. She shoved the comforter aside, which earned her a displeased look from a cat, and forged her way to the bathroom. Her little duplex wasn't much, but some thoughtful soul had made sure it had a spacious bathroom with a full soaker tub. That - and its convenient location not far from the Sunday Group headquarters - more than made the rent worth it.

Morning ablutions taken care of, she wandered towards the kitchen, traveling only as fast as the cats around her ankles would allow.

"You two would get fed a lot faster if you stopped trying to trip mommy, you know."

Ellsie, as always, was imperious. She stayed just out of reach, her profile stately, as she loudly proclaimed her hunger. Dewey - dear sweet, stupid Dewey - tried to brush against her legs, tripped over his own paws, and tumbled onto his fuzzy behind. She'd found both as strays, and she was becoming increasingly convinced that Dewey was part ferret.

She fed them both from the same tuna can, then punched the button on the coffee maker. Breakfast would be miso soup again. Well, after she cleared the papers off the kitchen table. It was just a little too convenient sometimes. But the dashi was already bubbling before she even halfway finished sorting, and so it was breakfast in the living room again.

After that, it was time to face the mirror. The lines on her neck had gotten no darker, thank God. She'd spent a week with blurry vision when the nictitating membrane showed up, but that would still be better than explaining gill slits to the hairdresser.

Still, better to wear a light scarf. A dress, a cardigan, and the uniform was complete. She was almost close enough to work that she could walk, but her old Subaru still had boxes and boxes of paperwork that really did need to be accessioned. No reason for anymore delays. Time for work.

---

The building draped itself on the slope. It was made of the same yellow-ish brick as every other small office complex on this half of the city. Beside it was an old grocery store converted into a warehouse, and on the other side was an old warehouse converted into a food co-op. The circle of life.

Naturally, the parking lot was on the steepest part of the slope. There was a railing at the bottom in case of a failed parking brake. Thankfully the Subaru never budged. Once again she decided against unloading the boxes.

The sign out front listed a half-dozen organizations with well-meaning, nonsensical names. All of them were just slightly true. The "Council for Stress-Related Disorders" could certainly refer to the Sunday Group, given how many members developed PTSD. The "District Library Assistance Board" was her baby; grants went from the state to the local libraries through D-LAB. No one needed to know that the whole organization ran on a laptop in her office.

The trick to the office building was to think of it as a mushroom: the visible part was just for show. The real action was underground. Each floor looked like it was terraced onto the slope, but they actually ran back into the slope for more than twice their apparent length. Then they turned down, deep underneath the city. God only knew how deep, really, and She wasn't telling.

It was bigger than it ought to be, and older than it could possibly be, and stranger than anyone could imagine. It was the Sunday Group. And, eh, it was a job.

[Assistant]
His alarm emitted an odious beeping, and he knew if he didn't turn it off, it would continue for twenty minutes. Even Manny didn't have the patience and overt laziness to wait that out, and so he opened his eyes slightly, gazing around his cramped apartment without moving a muscle. Years spent hunting things most people didn't believe in gave one a healthy paranoia. Anything sifting through a room wouldn't have been able to tell he was awake. The detective had learned never to groan or even breathe differently once he awoke. It had freaked out more than one woman, he recalled with a snort of amusement.

As soon as he had moved here, he knew it would be a bit less roomy than his last place. Apartment sizes were often larger with numbers, and they got progressively smaller the more reliant on letters they were. Apartment A's were usually shitty basement apartments, private restroom optional. When he was sure that no one was in here with him, he leaped out of the bed.

He scratched his unkempt hair and finally let himself groan, using his free hand to turn the TV on. His big toe touched the power button to his retro Xbox 360, and suddenly it zoomed onto the screen. He clicked 3 buttons, and his playlist came on. His music, loud and full of drums and bass, suddenly popped up, and he headed towards the bathroom, passing by one of his noir posters. His shower was quick, and luckily it didn't seem to be full of iron tasting water this time. Must be his birthday.

He put on his pants, and buttoned up his shirt before he took a look outside. Two white males working. He recognized them from his daily scope outs. Not hard to figure out. One seemed to have a significant other, the lankier one. He had the distinct feeling the lankier one was a cultist of some sort. The sulphur in the dumpster he frequented was a fair clue, as was the 'new age' books of wiccan spells he'd seen through the window. Nothing he couldn't handle. He'd check later, but for now, business called.

He put his effects in his pockets. He checked to see his pistol was full, and placed it into easy reach on his person, grip poking into the small of his back from within his shirt. His switch blade was in his sock. "Time to start trouble." he said to himself, opening the door and sliding out. He needed food, and decided he'd go out and get some early breakfast before heading to work.

He walked into the office with an egg and cheese bagel, and some orange juice in a cup. Paid to be healthy in his line of work, he told himself. He didn't speak to anyone he passed, just waving to whoever noticed him before he entered his office, breathing a sigh of relief once he sat down, retrieving his copy of 'A Thousand Horrors' and turning to page 769 to golems. Word had it a stone statue twenty miles up the road had killed a janitor. He wondered just how possible that was.

It paid to be nosy too.


[System]
Age: 21
Gender: Male

Appearance: Al's taller than average, with decent muscle tone, but his long body makes him look leaner. His hair is a messy, unkempt mop of muddy brown hair, and his facial features are surprisingly soft. Albeit, he's usually got a bruise or bandage marring them.
His dress style is pretty comfy; he mostly wears loose fitting traveler pants and tightly belted boots, with a wool sweater and dingy hooded longcoat up top. His right hand and lower arm is wrapped in bandages for better wrist support and also so he doesn't lose his grip. On his back he typically keeps one to four large greatswords, of varied make, kept in a sling. He made a necklace out of a a beast's fang, and wears it as a lucky charm.

Weapons/Belongings: Al's weapon of choice is the greatsword, and he's currently carrying four of them. If one breaks or gets tossed, he has a handy backup. These particular ones are made of steel, but he's not picky when it comes to replacements.
Additionally, he has a wallet containing a small amount of money and a hunting knife on his belt, and a rucksack containing rations, a flint, a bottle of extraordinarily strong liquor, a torch, and a length of rope tied to a rock.

Magic PHYSICAL SKILLS: Al is strong - much stronger than his frame would even suggest; he spent his youth wrestling animals for fun, when he wasn't toiling away with hard labor. He's durable to boot, and has a frighteningly high pain tolerance. One can only wonder how many concussions he's received.
Naturally, his self-taught fighting style takes advantage of this, and focuses on Al throwing his momentum around to deliver maximum impact haymakers. Drop kicks are common, as are wild punches, suplexes, and throwing whatever's handy, up to and including the enemy. Additionally, Al carries around several greatswords, since he finds their length and mass are good for slinging around. Also he thinks they're cool.

Personality: Al is by all means a kind, well-meaning person, with an understanding of the importance of friendship. He just happens to have a wild streak, and that streak just happens to be rather good at hitting stuff really hard.
He's not so much caught up in a balance between right and wrong as he is between right and fun. This poor impulse control, combined with a poor danger sense, inevitably means he's often the first to dive into a dangerous area or do something stupid for fun. It's great in a dangerous line of work, though.

Short History: It's not precise to say Al's forgotten his past due to amnesia. It is, however, accurate to say he's forgotten where it is. However, when growing up, he was always considered a strong boy, even in a rural community where the pastime was wrestling wild animals. Al, however, couldn't be content living a life of mostly farming and whiling away the hours on the porch. He was the sort of child who liked to wander. One day, the year he became a man, he wandered a bit too far, and ever since then has gotten increasingly lost. Determined not to let that get him down, the then fifteen year old began a new life, the life of an adventurer, sellsword, and treasure hunter.
As of late, Al's heard rumor of some strange happenings going on in the north. In his line of work, that's a business opportunity. Not one to scorn the idea of magic, he'd rather see it as a potential job offer. Even if nobody payed him to go there, they might be interested in any loot he brought back. And so, the swordsman trekked into the harsh tundra, ready to meet with any challenge the unknown might throw his way.

[User]
"Pleasure to meet you all," Jack said to ogling crowd. It was quite an interesting assembly, and he was sure they would make an equally interesting adventuring party. Several men and women, all of whom looked more than capable of the journey ahead. Keeping up might prove to be the real challenge of this north!

He pulled a chair out for the man with half a sticky bun poking from of his mouth. "Sit down, enjoy the meal. It isn't often in life that one has such an extravagant feast with such a renowned lord."

"So what brings you here, uh...?" Jack left it hanging, waiting for the overly-armed man to fill in his name.

He filled his plate with some of the more exotic foods, taking his own advice about the meal.

[Assistant]
Ashley glanced down at the girl with uninterested eyes as the girl's mood swing came in full force. Unimpressed, Ashley opened his mouth to utter a sentence, and to cut the girl off from her tangent, but Lord Cross had beaten him to it. As Ashley changed his gaze to Cross, he once more opened his mouth, to speak out to Cross about keeping control of his ill-willed child, but was once more interrupted by the opening of the Great Hall doors. Looking up and down the newcomers, Ashley did not greet them, nor did he show much more interest in them once they took their own seats, despite the exotic appearances of the individuals.

Anxiety racked Ira as he watched the girl's outburst, hoping once more that Ashley wouldn't do anything rash. As quickly as it begun, it had ended, however. Lord Cross managed to soothe his daughter's impolite outburst, without agitating Ashley further. About to speak, Ira turned his attention to the opening doors, and two new, slightly different looking, guests. As they took their seats and quickly picked up conversation, Ira decided now would be the best time to grab the free meal. Filling his plate, Ira looked back at his brother, who had turned his attention away from the group once more, "Are you going to eat, Ash?" Ira spoke up. However, Ashley did not warrant his brother a response, leaving Ira to turn back to his food and to continue his feast.

[User]
Elizabeth looked back and forth at the newcomers as they joined in with the rest of the group. The girl's appearance was strange, and her manner of speech suggested she was foreign. The other newcomer was an old man, who seemed rather unimposing, but she knew better than to judge someone entirely on appearance. Four Swords remained rambunctious, a trait she doubted would be disappearing any time soon. The woman's eye twitched when he recommended they leave immediately. Regardless of how uncomfortable the castle made her, it was far more hospitable than the frozen wasteland that waited before them. Thankfully, one of their new comrades dissuaded this impatience. Elizabeth gave Sage a grateful nod before taking a small bite of pork from her plate. The woman's gaze moved to the quiet brother. She couldn't place that one, and that made her nervous. Thankfully, the altercation with the younger Cross had been quelled. The blonde woman wondered for a moment what the girl's childhood had been like. Vulture's Roost seemed a strange place to grow up.

 Cross nodded as the newcomers joined the party. It seemed the group as a whole had agreed to his terms. As the group conversed amongst themselves, Alec spoke up. "It is entirely your decision when you set out, though, if you decide to wait until tomorrow, I have a number of guest rooms that you may use. In addition, my library, and the rest of the city are open to you. I will have your supplies gathered as soon as our discourse has concluded." The lord walked to the end of the table, turning towards the party. "But on to business. As I said before, there is limited information regarding the Wastes, however, I have gleaned a bit from the few sources I have." Alec cleared his throat. "The Great Northern Wastes are, just as their name implies, completely devoid of organized human settlements, however, according to some works I have read, this was not always the case. There once were cities north of my border, though at some point these settlements became unsustainable. Now, when and how that happened, I don't know. There are a number of legends, including famines, wars, and even a rather... fanciful description of a great dragon scorching the earth. Perhaps, in your travels, you may come across the ruins of some of these cities, and learn more about their fate for yourself."

 "While there are no cities, I have heard reports of small numbers of wildfolk roaming the Wastes. We know little about them or their culture, though they seem to be disconnected from the rest of the world. There have been a few reports of cannibalism, though I cannot ascertain their legitimacy." Cross paused for a moment. "As it stands, however, your greatest obstacle will likely be the environment itself. It only grows colder the farther north you travel, and the wind and snow are quite unforgiving. Immediately north of Vulture's Roost there is a wide frozen plain, mostly devoid of life. If you continue north, you will find a great forest of evergreen trees. Beyond that are mountains. I have no information regarding the geography beyond that point, as my scouts have never attempted to pass them." Cross glanced away for a moment, as if in though. "Beyond information regarding the land itself, a variety of... interesting creatures have been observed. There are the standards for Gris, of course: wolves, bears, mountain goats. But there have also been reports of great mammoths wandering the Wastes, an oddity that vanished from Gris some years ago. In addition, my scouts have reported strange cries within the forest. There is a chance creatures far more dangerous than wolves and bears have remained unseen. Of course, there is also the matter of the previous adventuring parties. If they are still alive, they probably won't take too kindly to others encroaching upon their treasure."

 "I believe that covers most of the information I have-" A voice cut across the room as Emilia spoke up. "I've heard something else. Ohn says there may still be other giants living in the Wastes." A small smile crossed Alec's face. "Oh, is that so, Ohn?" Cross motioned toward the giant kneeling to the left of Emilia, the one bearing a greatsword. The mountain of iron rose to his feet, nodding to his lord. Emilia again lept from her seat, rushing over by the giant. "Tell me again, Ohn, I don't remember all of it." The giant extended a massive hand toward the girl, who took hold of one of his fingers. All was silent, except for the girl nodding, as if the massive being was somehow communicating his thoughts through touch alone. "Right, yes, I remember now." The heiress turned toward the party. "Ohn says that when he and Rahm first left for Vulture's Roost, which was... let's see... fifty years ago? Regardless, Ohn says they weren't the only ones. There were some living in the mountains at that point in time. Apparently there weren't many though..." The girl frowned for a moment. "He says they aren't fond of people. Apparently they had been nearly wiped out by humans in the past... oh... Um, also apparently the giants had a different version of what happened to those cities in the north. According to their traditions, the giants, having lost most of their people, prayed to their god, which was a fire god, or something similar, and he destroyed the human settlements with a sea of flame." Emilia giggled. "Ohn says he doesn't necessarily believe that's how it happened, though."

 Alec nodded to his daughter and the giant. "Thank you for that, Emilia. I'm certain Ohn knows more of the Wastes than anyone else." Turning back to the table, Alec coughed. "That is all the information I have on hand. If you would like, you may make use of my library, perhaps you will find some source I've missed. Otherwise, continue your meal. The rooms I am offering are in the eastern wing of the castle. As I said before, I'll have your supplies gathered. In the meantime, perhaps you should become familiar with one another, the Wastes are a dangerous place, after all." With that, Alec left them to continue their meal.

[Assistant] Sage sat fuming, thoroughly annoyed at Four Swords' comment. He might end up regretting his rude words later. Nonetheless, she had been enjoying the hot meal as the lord and his daughter spoke. She was intrigued by the gift Emilia seemed to have, never having encountered such an ability. Having filled her stomach though Sage was ready to prepare for the journey. She decided to take the Lord's advice, seeing as they were going to be traveling together. Sage stood so she could be heard "I'm guessing everyone plans on traveling together, if I am wrong though please correct me. I figure we'll be together awhile and names at least would be helpful. That being said I'm Sage. I also think we should lay out a game plan as I would like to see what this city has to offer in case I don't make it back. My vote is we part ways, and meet at the exit at day break." Sage planned to go through the market and hopefully find something useful for her journey. There were some things she wanted to get to have on her person in case she somehow became separated from the group. She'd return to the guest rooms when she'd had her fill of the city.

[User]
Haruka continued shoveling food into her awaiting maw with the vim and vigor of a starving puppy, because that is basically what she was. She kept her ears open for lord Chris's informations, but it seemed like nothing she could not handle. Wild animals were easy, and nomadic cannibals didn't sound too tough. A giant, as the younger, more female Chris pointed out, might be a fun fight though.

Then, one of the others introduced themselves, which made Haruka remember her rudeness. She had forgotten to introduce herself to everybody! She quickly raised her hand and announced to all present.

"Yes, please forgiving my rudeness! I am Haruka Taiyo, and I come from far east on high mountain! I am here to get informations to trade for informations about the man who killed my master, so I can track him down and murder him. I like the color yellow, and am student of The Fist Through Which the Sun Breaks. I will spend time before the leaving to train, maybe. It is good to meet you, Sage, and I look forward to working with everyone!"

Haruka bowed politely to all present, and extended her hand to Sage as westerners do when meeting someone.

[Assistant]
"Oh? My name's Al." the swordsman bit into his sticky bun, still choosing to at least stand, rather than sit.
"I'm here to find whatever treasure's hiding out there. I bet it's really expensive. My hobbies are fighting, and I guess traveling. My favorite food is strawberry pastries, and one time I ate three pounds of pine bark because I lost a bet. It does not taste as good as it smells."

After a short moment of silence, he pushed the rest of the bun into his mouth, and began chewing.


[System]
"A mischievous troublemaker with a bite and hunger for mayhem."
______________
Basic Info
Player: OmegaOnyx
Gender: Female
Nicknames:
Race: Werewolf
Class: Shaman/Battlemage
Alignment:
Deity:
Age: 19 (Cursed with Immortality)
Size: medium
Body Type:
Height: 6 ft
Weight: 180 lbs.
Complexion: Tan
Hair: Silver
Eyes: Blue
Handedness: Right
Scars: Minor scars across her torso, legs, and neck, claw marks across her back
Relationship Status: Single
Personality: Sarcastic, impish, Quick-tempered, on-guard
Mannerisms: Smart-alec responses, fleeing from battle, destroying whatever she feels like
Likes: Nature, Solitude, Magic
Dislikes: Civilization
Sexual Affinity: Straight
_________________
Description
Human Form: A tall, tan woman hiding blue eyes under bangs of silver hair. Her dreads tie up in the back, obscured by a headdress of red and white feathers, multitudes of wooden beads looped around every lock. A variety of leather pouches hang from her chest and belt all filled with assortments of minerals and herbs, all a mark of her medical practice. Crimson markings stained to her skin show her past tribe's glory, hidden under her ripped attire consisting of a coat, brassiere, tights, and leather boots, all black and worn out through her adventures.

Werewolf Form: A dark bluish-gray wolf bearing the same tribal marks as her human state. Her transformation undergoes an illusion like state, the human girl's colors fading into thin air before forming the wolf's silhouette in her arcane's crimson shade, smoke filling the beast into reality.
(Artwork will come soon)

__________________
Connections
Friends- She has never gained any, even in her mortal years.
Enemies- Deceased or unknown, she never knew names
Family- The council of her tribe consisted of her father, mother, and 2 brothers.
Acquaintances
__________________

__________________

Biography
Rida Blackclaw was an alpha of her tribe and was forced into the role of chief by custom, being the oldest child of the council. She grudgingly accepted, foolishly treating it like nothing of major. Even though she wasn't in favor of that responsibility, she continued her duties as a shaman, tending to wounds and warding away spirits. The mage took more interest in studying magic, finding favor in owning its power. Even when the council disapproved, Rida rebelled, hiding away from the village to practice.

An attack of vampires tore her home apart, killing away her army and setting ablaze to everything in sight. With the flames rising, everyone was separated, and Rida fled out of panic.

The lost mage visited their ancestor's shrine days later in hopes of guidance. An angered spirit named Daku answered, assigning blame to Rida for abandoning her leadership. The snarky girl argued with Daku, opposing the advantage over the unknown army of fiends. This retaliation infuriated the warlord, calling for a curse on the shaman.

"As you failed to lead your family, you will continue to lead yourself to failure!"

Immortality was bestowed to Rida, though without a tribe to lead and her family lost to her, she set out wandering the world, seeking what she could of her many years of living. She spent the next 150 years in solitude, running from hunters and bandits alike. Her practice never stopped, practicing the same art she always loved, though using its power to wreak havoc to anyone who dared held a weapon to her.

[User]
Once she stepped inside, the woman shook her hair free of water, the wooden beads adorning her dreads rattling with every shake. She carefully set down her bag against the wall, crystals clunking together inside. After standing once more, she kept her back to him, sighing heavily.

 "As much as I appreciate your kind words, you have to understand-"

Her words were cut off as she turned to the sound of his blade placed on the table. Carefully walking over to see, her eyes followed to the hilt, staring in awe.

 "Hmm, peculiar. Another weapon you say?"

She still had her spear in her right hand, using it like a balancing stick as she watched him pull out a large, foreign weapon. Amazement couldn't be hidden, gazing in wonder as she listened to his story. Like a child, she was easily impressed to see such a high record and to hear such tales. Acknowledging his question, her eyes trailed to the ground, her raspy voice barely above mumbling.

"Well, there is a few. What happened after that day? Does the tribe live on? And... how are you alive? My reign was years ago, which could
 only mean you're over a hundred years old. I don't think I could understand how."

The woman didn't appear old herself, but she didn't think that another would have the same fate. A healthy body and her skin still full, even though she had bluish-silver hair and slightly clouded eyes, it was a change that came with her curse, her sight still clear. She knew she couldn't deny what she saw in that vision, it was her home exactly like it was. Her gaze followed back to the man's marks, then to the ones across her right arm. Truly enough, they matched in ways. No doubt, he was right.

[Assistant]
" Nobody I know of survived the attack other than myself. Everything was compromised upon my arrival. As for myself, I cut my way through whomever was in my way until I made it out. I spent years in hiding practicing the Dark Arts, primarily Necromancy. Unfortunately, it is an law that those tied to one can not be resurrected, or it destroys the caster. As I've understood, it's part of an elaborate curse that I haven't further researched. Whilst I was making such progress in my studies, I was alerted to a chance at immortality. Conducting a very... costly ritual, I was able to immortalize myself when I was 23. After that... I had been captured in my sleep by cultists. Perhaps my newfound immortality and extravagant powers had called to them in some way. This body you see.. Results of their magic, and altercations with my own frame. I do not mind it. It was very strange to get used to, but I found myself liking it. Unfortunately the fools underestimated me. Set me as a overseer to a small army of slaves they'd acquired. It didn't take too long before we overthrew them. "

He spoke calmly, pacing back towards the window near the door and staring out at the storm pouring down outside. His hands were behind his back in a rather formal fashion. His body was stiff, as if he was reporting to an officer in an army. Heaving a sigh, he turned to face her. He seemed to take more note of features at this time.

 " It takes a hell of a lot more than what I've had thrown at me to kill me. You shouldn't worry to much about that. As for you. You're cursed, I can tell. The dark energy is radiating off of you. It's the immortality, by the feeling. I can't say what or where it came from, but it is not anything that I can't fix. Presumably, to only kill the manifestation of the curse and then to re-implement a more.. tolerable version such as my own immortality. That is, if you're willing. "

He was aware it was an odd request, yet as a former member of her village, it was only customary to offer his aid out of respect. Whether she accepted it or not was up to her, yet he himself could not determine any true thoughts about her. After all, he was acting out of respect. He didn't know fuck-all about her.

[User]
"Necromancy? It was my ancestor that laid this Hell on me, he was a warlord at most."

The mage was familiar with the dark magic, though never saught practice. It was a surprise to her that this brute didn't kill her on site since she heard tales about its mana corrupting its caster. She couldn't question it though, eagerly taking his offer.

 "Well, whatever's the cause, if you think you can help me I'm willing to do what it takes."

She seemed to perk up a bit, even some excitement shown. To remove this dread from her soul was something she couldn't refuse, even from a stranger she wanted to at least give it a chance. Glancing towards the window behind him, she went into thought.

 Maybe the rain will clear soon unless he offers space here. I never stayed in something like this though...

Being in the wild, she would find refuge in dense forests and caves, sleeping as a lycan by night. She slumped back against the wall before sliding down to the floor, sitting cross-legged as she stared off into space, recollecting memories.

"As I've said, it was a great spirit that placed this curse on me, Daku. He was my mother's great, great uncle, and saw how much of an irresponsible brat I was. He wasn't wrong, I cared more about magic than my home. I'm not entirely sure how to reach in contact again though. Immortality is something new to this ol' mage, even after roaming the Earth beyond the normal lifetime, so I trust that you're right, since you have all of your flesh and bones together as I do. Why you're willing to help surprises me greatly, along with your forgiveness, but I'm more than grateful. So tell me, what do you have in mind to make this work?"

[Assistant]
He listened to her with a rather calm demeanor around him. During this, he started to unclutter the table, placing the huge battleaxe back into his closet, and placed the sword by the door. After this, he went to a keg near his bed, grabbing two tankards off the top of it and filling each to the brim, just slightly foaming over, and handed one of the drinks to her.

 " Least our country still ships out mead. As for this dilemma.. There's only one way that the curse can be broken. A curse laid upon you from the dead means that the deceased still roam this world. To dispel that curse, the malevolent spirit must be banished. Many spirits choose combat, manifesting themselves so that a fair battle can be waged between them and the living. Much like a flesh and blood battle. That, I have no problem with. However, contracting my form of immortality... There's a catch. Death is Undeath. If your mortal frame is killed, you will turn into a Lich. A undead mage, typically those of great power. In time, if not defeated in combat, you may reform as a humanoid figure again. If defeated once more as a Lich, your soul is shattered, and you perish for all eternity. The ritual isn't complicated, all-be-it. The demand for your own immortality is one thousand souls. The rest of the ritual items and works are easily acquired through casual means. Gathering, trading, whatnot... I can do this for you. As for now, let the storm pass, you may stay here with me. I do not anticipate trouble, as if anything could pose any.

He walked across the room to his bed after finishing his drink, pulling a knife from his boot and twirling it around like a childs toy. He seemed to be fairly relaxed, as much as someone with his stature and outward mindset could be. He still didn't fully understand the reason of his actions. Perhaps it was just his own loneliness that made him seek out company from someone he found familiarity with. He didn't know the answer, much less did he ever even expect to.


[System]
I'm aware this is probably overkill, but this is a new character I'm going to be throwing around this site a lot, so I figured now would be a good time to set up a decent sheet for her.

---

(c)Shiroho-Art
An enigmatic soldier on the run from an even more mysterious force. Darth Vader joining the crew of the Millennium Falcon.

Strength 16
Dexterity 14
Constitution 16
Intelligence 10
Wisdom 10
Charisma 12

+ Skilled swordfighter - Disdains "impersonal" combat
+ Well-versed in military protocol - Not terribly communicative
+ Preternaturally resistant to injury - CURSED
+ Can paralyze others with a glare - Can't "turn off" her eye
Species: Human
Age: 28
Sex: Female
Size: 170cm / 60kg
Eyes: Violet
Skin: Fair

Sin: Pride
Virtue: Diligence
Avatar: General Beatrix, Final Fantasy IX
Voice: Zelda Williams as Kuvira
Theme: "Sacrifice"

General Appearance: Charlotte is a relatively average-sized woman with noticeable but subtle muscle tone, fair skin, and a perpetually distant expression. Her hair is long, straight, and light brown. It's normally half-groomed, as if being presentable was an afterthought. She has no visible scar tissue, which may seem strange for a career warrior. She wears light clothes even when at sea, as if her body simply never gets cold.

One of Charlotte's eyes is significantly less human-looking than the other. She keeps it covered constantly.

Combat Skills: A knight of the northern kingdoms, Charlotte is a dangerous swordswoman with both talent and experience. She's had training in the use of most weapons, including lances, spears, flails, and bows, though she rarely carries any weapon but her bastard sword. Unarmed, she prefers wrestling, and eagerly aims to break her enemy's joints. She's very strong, respectably agile, and inordinately (some might say unnaturally) difficult to put down.

Other Talents: Charlotte has a keen tactical mind, with plenty of experience in coordinating others during times of stress. She can handle horses quite well, though she tends to scare other animals simply on approach. While not much of a reader, Charlotte is a fair hand at board games, card games, and even word games. She also knows the basics of being a deckhand, of course. Otherwise she wouldn't have joined a crew going far out to sea.

Supernatural Abilities: While the northern kingdoms like to brag that their Brass Knights are mystical warriors with impossible abilities, the actual powers any given knight shows are highly varied. Charlotte's body is incredibly resistant to injury, fatigue, and disease. She heals major injuries in days, rather than weeks...which might explain why she has no scars. Other than that, her only really supernatural aspect is her right eye. Meeting Charotte's gaze can induce a magical reaction of terror in most people, freezing them where they stand. This effect varies greatly depending on the strength of a person's spirit, and only ever lasts as long as she maintains eye contact. Unfortunately, this ability is subconscious; as a result, Charlotte keeps her demonic eye covered at all times.

The Curse: No matter how many fantastic abilities Dame Charlotte Euryale received from her pact with eldritch entities, the tradeoff really wasn't worth it. Much more than simple bad luck, powers beyond mortal ken actively attempt to make her life miserable at any given chance. While her body and possessions are only empowered by her Hellish benefactors, the world around her sometimes feels like a nexus of horribly unfortunate accidents that all transpire to hurt her, specifically. A door will break off its hinges as she pushes it open, falling onto a large, surly, drunk man who takes exception with this. The rope hitch she's tying off will snap loose at the last second, sending her hurtling towards the ocean below. In general, if it's horrible and unlikely, it'll probably happen to her.

The fiends that control Charlotte's curse are imaginative and malicious, but they make sure not to severely injure her. After all, how could Hell ever benefit from incapacitating its own soldier?

No one is really sure where Kaer is. In fact, out of everyone she's ever met, Charlotte has yet to find a single other person who knows where her hometown. It's entirely possible that she could have made it up, or that her memories have been altered by some kind of vile enchantment. She remembers her parents dying of illness, not violence, very early in her life. She remembers joining the army of a rather unpleasant tyrant of a king, and achieving a prestige of service so great that she was inducted into an exclusive knightly order.

From her initiation into the Order of the Brass Gauntlet, first as a journeyman then as a proper knight, Charlotte's memories are not only much clearer, but much more damning. One can forgive an orphan for joining a tyrant's army, but one cannot so easily forgive a soldier with any measure of conscience in her heart brokering with dark powers beyond her own imagining. Under orders from her captain and in the presence of her king, Charlotte of Kaer willfully and willingly tainted herself with the blood of entities from children's nightmares.

And she became strong.

The Order of the Brass Gauntlet, also known as the Brass Knights, became the deciding factor in war in the north over the last four years. Having elite warriors imbued with fell powers when the enemy doesn't tends to create an immense difference in military efficacy. On the frontlines of this war, the newly knighted Dame Charlotte Euryale performed acts of both military and non-military brutality. By the time the war had ended, she'd long begun to question exactly what her purpose in life was.

When she got her first chance to desert, she took it. Her path brought her across the world, ducking away from anyone who might be searching for her as best she could. Eventually she found her way to a port city and onto the crew of a ship bound for lands unknown. One would have to be mad or desperate to sail to the edges of the world with a group of complete strangers, and Charlotte is a bit of both. But try as she might to outrun her peers and her king, she can't outrun the unholy creatures that now hold sway over her in more ways than she'd ever admit.

[User]
"The ancients... they sailed westward too, ya know. Masters of the high seas, they was. Don't know what happened to 'em, but seeing as how they ain't here no more, it couldn't 'ave ended well for 'em, now could it? Only fools go looking for that kinda trouble." -local fisherman.

The "Elfleda", a lovely vessel recently commissioned by Lord Rolf to sail westward on an exploratory mission, had been stocked with almost two month's worth of supplies. It's small crew, along with the band of adventurers, had set sail just 3 days ago and were mostly in high spirits. The wind favored them and the first leg of this journey was expected to be easy. They were headed to Avery's Isle, so named for Queen Avery almost 20 years ago. Already it was visible in the distance and they should be there within a few hours time.

The large island had a small permanent population, made up mostly of poor folk who had jumped at the chance to have a plot of land to themselves. And while it was under Lord Rolf's dominion, Constable Leofwine Botwright was the local authority. A perfect place to replenish the supplies used over the last few days plus deliver Lord Rolf's quarterly missive to the Constable.

After that, the "real" adventure would begin as the Elfleda would be continuing westward, hoping to discover more islands filled with either fertile soil or lost riches just waiting to be claimed.

[Assistant] Vilkas boards the ship at port with excitement in his heart. He has been on the sea before and feels right at home onboard immediately. He offers up a quick prayer to the gods of his people and thinks of his contract: a small sum of gold up front and whatever he can loot from the natives in return for maps of the area. Life is good.

[User]
Hanging half-off the ship by one of the port lines connected to the mast, Charlotte eyed the horizon, and very much didn't turn her attention anywhere near the port they were approaching. An endless ocean had seemed like the perfect place to lose herself before she'd actually attempted to...well, lose herself. She reasoned that it would probably just take her some time to get accustomed to the idea of keeping her own company - the Order had provided her with a dozen or more peers to keep her occupied, and now she would very hopefully never see any of them again.

Especially not here. Not in the middle of nowhere.

Part of her almost pitied the men she was stuck on this ship with. How many of them would die when her shadow caught up to her? How many would simply suffer? How long would it take her to become this poor, unsuspecting crew's personal albatross? And when would she get over herself already? Jeez, all of that moping was going to give her a wart, or something. She'd have something to distract herself with in a few hours' time, and a perfect opportunity to field test how this new arrangement was going to work out. Hell only knew what a simple squatter's island had in store for her.

[Assistant]
Rockmar stood by the railing of the ship, looking forward like the rest. However, he really wasn't concerned about what was before them. He was worried about what was behind them. He was sure that the merchant's body would have been found my now. He didn't mean to kill the merchant. But Rockmar was being cheated. An argument started. Before he really know what had happened, the merchant lay dead at his feet.

Rockmar has spent his whole life on the around the docks. The only he was skilled at was fighting. He was often hired as a guard or sometimes as a bouncer. He's even been hired to help against pirates from time to time. Rockmar was no stranger to bloodshed. But this time it was different. He didn't kill some gutter rat. He killed a wealthy merchant. He knew he could never go back. There would only be a hangman waiting for him if he ever returned. Might as well what the rest of the world and ocean had to offer.

He walked over to Charlotte and said, "Hello, it looks like we will be shipmates for some time. I'm called Rockmar."


[System]
---

Kjartan stood quietly, the flames of his brothers funeral pyre illuminating his battle scarred visage and pale blue, almost white, eyes. He could smell the burning flesh as it curled and the corpse began to shrink from the heat. His brother had been shorter than his six feet, though just as broad in the shoulders and chest; now he was no larger than a small boy. The pyre shifted and then collapsed in an explosion of sparks that shot high into the sky, just one a hundred such blazes along the shores of the River Thet. Some, like his, served as funeral pyres while others were surrounded by celebrating warriors. Ale flowed and the screams of captured women echoed across the water as their captors forced them onto their backs.

He frowned and shrugged his shoulders slightly to shift his chainmail. He had never been one for rape and had always discouraged it where he could, but trying to prevent it would certainly lead to a fight and enough men had died today. His own mead horn was still half full, the feeling cool against the blaze before him. He ran a hand through a thick blonde beard, stroking the ends of it as he stared into the fire, unfocused and unseeing.

There was no escaping the reality that he was now the last of his family line. Two brothers had been killed fighting in Englaland, another had drowned at sea, and his parents were long dead of old age. As it was, he was nearing his thirtieth winter and he could feel the aches in bones and the cold bothered him more now than it had when he was young. No wife, no legitimate children of his own, and no true land to call home. What he and his brother had built had burned during the recent fighting. Now he had nothing save his weapons', armour, and the small horde he had collected over the years. Maybe the time had come to seek new opportunities elsewhere, somewhere far from the blood and death.

His hand drifted from beard to battered pommel of his longsword as he absently rubbed the leather. There had been talk over the past months of a land far to the West, beyond even Iceland and Greenland. Rumours of a huge land, inhabited by tribes of men who some said were Arabs, and filled with such beasts and great forests that no man need be hungry or cold again. That would suit him just fine. He hated the cold.

Post Catalogue:
1. To Go West (Kjartan and Jaska)
2. Finding a Crew (Kjartan and Åse
3. The Saxons Attack (Lise and Sisse)

[User]
Kjartan Knudsen

---

The mood in the longships was nothing short of fury mixed with black humour. Danes were not used to retreating, even less so to defeat. Call Thetford what you wanted, a victory one day, certainly a defeat the next and no one was happy about it. Of the seventeen longships that had been on the beach, three had burned, another had eventually sank, and only one Saxon ship had been captured to replace them. The dead seemed likely to number more than sixty and no single oarbank was full as the Danes rode the current northward.

"Well that was shite," Lise was muttering as she cleaned mud and blood from literally every article of clothing and gear she owned by scooping up river water and scrubbing with a handful of straw. "Pure shite."

"Aye, that's a fine way to put it." Her sister agreed, her own equipment immaculate save for the blood that sheeted her axe from blade to rope knotted handle. "A shame we could not stay to kill more of them, though I don't think I am destined for a heroic death on some nameless Saxon riverbank."

Kjartan, pulling strongly at one of the nearest oars, eyed the two with interest. They were identical in every-way save for a small scar on Lises right cheek. Whip thin with long black hair, green eyes, and almost fairy like looks, they were often underestimated by their enemies or mistaken for children. They had joined the crew a year before, rescued from a Frankish slaver, and been valuable members of the crew ever since. He had been present when they took their blood oath to never be taken alive by anyone again. There no doubt among those who had been present that they meant what they said as their bloodied palms joined over their offering to Freya.

"We got careless," Jaska, across the vessel from Kjartan and pulling his own oar, chimed in. Nothing ever seemed to worry the Finn, nothing. It was disconcerting at times and Kjartan had teased him about it on occasion. Jaska would always just shrug his shoulders and smile. "Over confident."

"That does seem to be a problem with men..." Lise muttered as she scrubbed at a particularly stubborn patch of mud that had stained the grip of her short-sax. "Always got more confidence in their skills than they ought too."

Jaska laughed. "And yet even you two got caught napping, what's your excuse there, eh?"

"All these beards are rubbing off on us. We were as dozy as you lot." Sisse replied. She and her sister could volley a conversation back and forth between them in a way that left most folk confused. Jaska was the only one who was apparently impervious to their games.

"Right, bearded.."

"Snoring."

"Likely as not playing with your cocks."

"When you should have been keeping watch."

"I won't even ask you what you were playing with." He interrupted them mid-flow and tossed an amused smile at them. There had long been a rumour among the army that the sisters were lovers but Kjartan did not think there was any truth to it. Their stories of being enslaved were chilling to hear and he was certain any experience like that would forge a bond he could not understand.

"My cock, obviously." Lise replied with a sly grin.

The small exchange, though in truth not hilarious, brought out a few more grins among the crew. Going a Viking meant learning to survive setbacks when required; failure to do so would only lead to taking risks that would get you killed and they were short crewed enough as it was.

Kjartan looked around the boat, noting those who had made it, and those who had not. Åse was hunched at the rear, squatting next to the steering oar as she guided the longship down the river. They were picking up speed and she gave a quick command to cease rowing. The river would take them the rest of the way to the sea. It wouldn't be a fast trip, but it would give them time to lick their wounds and not limp into Lynn like whipped dogs.

There they could resupply, re-arm, and discover which of their crew wished to continue the journey.

[Assistant]
Åse Ingolfsdatter

---

Dried mud and blood flaked off of Åse's arms and body as she steered their vessel down river using her weight to maneuver the oar she managed. Taking a quick glance behind her, the young woman saw no signs of a pursuit behind them. Perhaps the Saxon's decided to celebrate the victory of taking back Thetford rather than chase them completely out of their land. Åse had the mindset to call them fools, but she rather not curse their good luck. The enemy's lack of the drive to hunt them allowed the Danes to escape, recover, and plan their next move before their enemy could decide it for them. The talk on the boat was a welcomed distraction as her arms worked to keep the boat in her control though it was not necessarily a taxing task as they moved with the current. Many spoke of retaliation as they were not accustomed to the taste of defeat, others spoke of their carelessness, and some did not speak at all, probably wrestling with their own opinions on what happened and what to do next.

The young shield maiden had no such internal struggles, for she had already decided to move on from her life of battle. Feeling the boat settle nicely in the flow of the river along with the remaining ships of their division, Åse took the opportunity to relax next to her place by the steering oar and investigated herself. Save for some scratches and bruises, she had no serious injury to concern herself with and the blood that covered her body was not her own. Åse noticed that another had taken charge of Arne once he was shoved onto the boat and had made quick work of his injury. The arrow had since been removed from his shoulder, an endeavor that resulted in many curses towards the thankless healer, and a bandage now laid in it's place. The man was expected to recover, though it is too soon to tell for certain.

The fourteen remaining ships of their division were slowly making their way back to Lynn, a decently sized river town that was conquered and inhabited prior to the Dane's attempt on Thetford. It was there that Åse planned to stock up and head out to world's unknown. They would reach the town before nightfall so the young women settled into the oar to rest, chuckling with the rest of their troupe as they joked about being to busy playing with themselves to pay attention to their surroundings.

The shores at Lynn burst into life when their approach was discovered by their kin whom had occupied the town and took notice of their colors in the light of the setting sun. Many came to their aid, working to anchor their boats at the river's edge and carry their wounded to tents were they could be tended to. Åse was glad for this as it meant she wasn't needed for this labor and her mind could focus on other tasks. She was eager for a bath and a warm bed to sleep in but knew that a meeting amongst the lords on their next course of action was unavoidable given their current circumstances, a responsibility she inherited with the death of her beloved. It would be then that she would declare her intentions to take her vessel and leave, taking whomever wanted out of this venture. The rest would be dealt with in the morning she thought as the heaved herself over the boat and landed softly upon the sandy beach.

Passing by Kjartan on the shore, she placed her right hand upon his left shoulder, squeezing it gently in greeting. She didn't have a chance to say anything sooner to the man as they both had duties to attend to in order to get their people to safety here in Lynn. Åse thought to ask him to join her, but decided against the notion.

"If anything, I'll see you in the morning Kjartan." She said softly while releasing her grip on him.

Her weary legs carried her into the weathered town, trading the soft sand for moist grass that licked away at any mineral particles that stuck to her leather boots.


[System]
Nickname(s): Roze (Used more commonly by friends), Rozie, Roza.

Gender: F

Age: 11

House: Ravenclaw
Appearance:

Try ignoring her hair and eye colour, as it changes quite often. Depending on her mood, they'll change colours, which is fairly unavoidable. More often than not, she'll have blonde hair, as she has a naturally happy disposition, and her eyes will be a warm amber colour. Blue is sad, black is pain, red is anger... you get the idea.
Other than that, she stands at a short height, with just the slightest beginning of curves along her slim body. With a pale, heart-shaped face (Although when very happy, her skin will often warm up to a healthy tan) and a sweet, dimpled grin, she often looks a few years younger than her actual age.

Just thought I'd put this on so you guys know what she's feeling when her colours of hair/eyes change.
Happy – Gold
Sad – Blue
Pain – Black
Tired/bored – Grey
Curious – Purple
Amused – Pink
Envious/Jealous– Green
Angry – Red
Fear – White
Neutral – Brown

Sometimes if two or more emotions conflict, they'll create highlights in her hair or just blend together, so she can have some funky looking rainbow locks at some points. Also, the stronger the emotion, the more vibrant the colour - and the eyes only change if the emotion is strong. Like, if she got a cut on the arm or something, her eyes wouldn't turn black in pain - but multiple cuts or broken bones, they'll turn black.

Wand: 12 1/2 Inch wand, made of a springy and intricately patterned Apple wand, and a Phoenix feather core.

Pet: A black kitten called Sora - unknown breed.

Strengths: Whether it's because she is a form of Metamorphagi or not, Roze's Transfiguration abilities are astounding for her age - on top of all the extra research she's been doing, she's already practicing to be an Animagus, and is curious as to what form she'll take once she manages it. She also has an uncanny ability of picking up new languages, whether it be Tolkien's Elvish (Which she adores) Or Gobbledegook. Also a surprisingly good singing voice, although is very shy about it. On top of this, she's been trained in hand-to-hand combat from a fairly young age. Although far from being an expert, she knows enough to stop an older kid in his or her tracks. That's what you get from coming from a slightly paranoid military family.

Weaknesses: Is often easily anxious about things, and isn't uncommon for her to fret over seemingly silly things. Feeling the need to do the best she possible can in every subject - on top of all the extra activities she'll sign herself up for - she gets stressed out from too much work to do. On top of this, she has a certain naive outlook on things - this can lead to her easily walking aimlessly into danger, not considering consequences at the thought of knowledge; her temper hardly helps with that either. Although it takes quite a bit for her to blow, the outcome is far from pretty; not too dissimilar from a volcano.

Personality: Because of her introduction to the wizarding world, Roze is still amazed and overwhelmingly curious of all the new things in this world - already adding to her naturally inquisitive nature, this made her crave for more knowledge of her new existence. Suddenly, Muggle knowledge wasn't enough for her.
Although her curiosity and wit are her most overwhelming attributes, she has a great deal of bravery within her - and of course, bravery can often go hand in hand with wisdom, for sometimes you need to be brave to acquire knowledge. She has kindness and honesty, and above all, she values friends and those she loves. However, this can be a downside for her. She is big on protecting those she cares about, probably brought on by the loss of her Mother. Because of this, she can be almost obsessive in keeping people safe, not caring if it puts herself in harms way. It also gives her knack for making plenty of enemies.

History: Roze has known of the wizard world all of her life, thanks to her Mother's legacy; sadly, her Mam died shortly after Roze's birth during a raid gone badly - she had been an Auror - and her Muggle father was left with 2 half-blood children, and a lot of information he really shouldn't have known. Thankfully, what with being in the Army and all, he was used to being discreet. So, he tried to integrate as much of the Wizarding world into his children's lives as the Muggle world they lived in, but it was hard, considering his wife was dead and he had no real connection left to the wizarding world. Rozalia's elder brother - Leo - is about 10 years older than her, and works as a junior Auror in the Ministry of Magic. He still keeps in touch with her, often joining Roze and their Father on trips back to their family's home country of Italy.

NPCs:
Antonio "Tony" Éathliel - Rozalia's Muggle Father; a Sergeant in the UK Army, he came to the country at the age of 3 with his immigrant Italian parents. Both have passed away naturally a few years before the birth of his first child, Leo. He regrets this, and also regrets that Roze never got to know her Mother; Megara. Following his wife's murder, he became slightly paranoid, and sure that his wife's work would follow her home one day. Because of this, he made sure to keep Roza and Leo trained in different manners of combat. Although Roze is only 11 years old, she knows quite a bit in hand-to-hand combat, and can work her way around a knife too. In terms of magical combat, she seriously needs to work on it - something Tony worries over a lot.

Leo Éathliel - Rozalia's 21-year-old brother; following the death of his Mother, he vowed to knuckle down on his schoolwork and gain enough marks to become an Auror. Although going against his naturally, easy-going and fun-loving nature, he managed to pass all his OWL and NEWT grades, and joined the Auror's department with no trouble. He worries about his Father and sister a lot, but makes sure to keep them safe as much as possible. He works with his Uncle - Mother's older brother - in the Auror's office, still attempting to track down those responsible for his Mother's death. Although five of the murderers were captured, three escaped; and they're on his hit-list.

Robert 'Bobby' Thrussell - Megara's older brother, and the Uncle of Leo and Rozalia. An Auror for a good thirty years, Bobby has seen plenty of shit. But, he sticks with the job, just so he can track down the people who killed his sister and a few of his good friends. A genius when it comes to lore on various beasts and whatnot of the Wizarding world, he also likes to spend his time drinking and dealing with the various scumbags that come with the job of Auror. Despite all of this, he's like a second father to Roze and Leo - having babysat them more than a couple of times while their Father was on a tour. He's also an excellent primary resource for when Roze is stuck with her homework.

[User]
The walk to flying was a nice relief for Nolan, and certainly the high point of his day so far. Not only was he excited for his first lesson in which he would know what was going on, he also got to spend the walk telling Caelum and Chandler about Quidditch.

He told them of the thrill of flying and of his misadventures trying out Judoc's Cleansweep Fifteen the past summer. He filled them in on the various positions involved in Quidditch, as well as the balls. The walk wasn't too long, but by the time they got to the courtyard, he felt he had covered the game well enough. He wondered if it was too early to offer to invite them to go see the Ballycastle Bats with his family next year. They didn't go often, but his dad generally tried to take them to at least one match each summer.

A few moments later he was lined up with the rest of the first years, staring down at his broom. Of course he knew he could do it. He'd been flying around the neighborhood for six months now. And yet, what if the broom refused to come up and everyone saw that he was just as bad at this as everything else? He shook the thought out of his head. That way of thinking made you fail for sure, he knew from experience. He simply breathed and imagined how fun it would be to fly out over the lake and smiled. Cursing a teacher position was easily out of hi range, but this, this was an attainable goal.

"Up!"

The broom rose slowly but steadily up to his hand. It wasn't as quick as some of the others, but something told him it was the old broom that was at fault here. He gently got onto the broomstick, holding onto the handle with a steady grip. There were already a few students zooming about, some on purpose and some on accident. However, he knew from experience that just taking off before getting a feel for the broom was not a good idea. Especially on old school brooms that didn't get used often. With a look of concentration he rose slightly off the ground and drifted past Chandler then over to Caelum. Sure he wasn't a natural like Tidus or Judoc, but he'd been working at it. Just as he reached Caelum, her broom flew up into her funny bone. Stifling a chuckle, he floated in front of her.

"Don't worry. That happened to me a few times. Actually it hit me in the face once. I had to go to my aunt's wedding with a black eye."

He didn't mention that the black eye had actually been from one of the Weasleys' boxing telescopes his cousin had tricked him with, but this version of the story would probably make her feel better. Thinking he had gotten a good feel for the broom, he leaned forward and pulled his broom up zooming away from the ground. From this height, he looked out across the lake then toward the forbidden forest. Either looked like a great place to explore. And what better place to start than with a view from above?

But now wasn't the time. He did a few rounds of the courtyard, trying to gauge the highest speed he trusted this broom with. If he went to fast it started to tip forward a bit, which wasn't fun. And something told him he didn't want to have to brake on it to quickly. After the rounds he rose to the highest point he could reach without the broom shivering, and hovered for a while looking out at the majesty of the castle and grounds. He could get used to this.

[Assistant]
The students high enough to see and brave enough to not-look-down might notice something peculiar.

Did something pass in front of the sun? A witch on a broom? Or perhaps it was an eagle passing over... Yet... At a second glance the sky was clear. No birds in sight. Perhaps a could then? More plausible, yet, it was difficult to look back and make sure. The light of the sun burned more the longer you looked to it.

Caelum was having a bit more luck. She had managed to get atop her broom, and was wobbling away a few feet off of the ground. Her cheeks were flushed red with embarrassment.

Moirah was doing better. Not quick, but she climbed into the air with an expression of determination.

Professor wood hooted and hollered at each first years fumble, and cheered on those doing well.

"There you go! That's the spirit! Twenty points to all your houses!"