[System]
Age: 23

Gender: Female

Personality: Cold, methodical, and absolutely against the entire concept of 'wishes' in the first place. As a Master, she holds to the view that her role is support: sustain the Servant, gather information, and avoid having to interact with the others taking part in the war (or people in general). Despite being a born-and-bred magus, she holds no great antipathy for technology; only an idiot would hate a potentially useful tool.

Skills: She's not completely technologically illiterate! That's not to say she's immensely good with it, but Bridget isn't defeated by the mere concept. She's also good at freehand drawing.

Abilities:* Sorcery Trait: "Bloody Circuits". The Carran family has long existed as something of an oddity: extremely plentiful, good magic circuits... and an ability to utilise magic energy below that of an average magus. The accumulated energy simply melds itself with bodily fluids far more than is normal, leading to their blood containing far more energy than is at all normal. They also have the ability to control their blood once outside their body, which without the appropriate knowledge would only be useful for not bleeding out when they need this level of mana for something.
* Runes: Bridget can be considered something of a master of this type of magecraft, though she can hardly inscribe them as fast as some. Instead, if there's some need for high power or rapid inscription... take a little of her blood, and have that form the required rune on some surface. A momentary action, a spell, and the energy to power it all in one. She prefers to set up more subtle or permanent effects, but in no way shies back from something more destructive... or being able to use them to boost speed for a quick escape.
* General Knowledge: Though not specialised in anything else in particular, both carrying her family's magic crest and an interest in conserving her own blood give Bridget a good understanding of thaumaturgy in general. She also has a surprising knowledge of Formalcraft.
* Elemental Affinity: Earth

Brief Backstory: The heir to an old family, Bridget herself has little involvement with the Mages' Association, church, or too much interest in socialising in general. Her father, on the other hand, cultivated a good deal more relationships and was involved in the fighting preceding the dismantling of the Fuyuki Holy Grail... at least until he died, that was. Having found out that some idiots went and rebuilt the thing, Bridget decided to honour his death by setting out to dismantle the new version.

[User]
Hakuno

Please don't yell at me, Hakuno found herself mentally begging the approaching Servant, her diminutive stature doing little to suppress just how intimidating she seemed at the moment. It was a miracle that Hakuno wasn't already shaking at the moment, and she braced for a rather stern lecture. But instead, she got... well...

As if dazed, Hakuno blankly stared at the disapproving Saber. That was both... anti-climactic and devastating, though it took her a moment to figure out why. Silently, Hakuno stared at her clothes currently being worn. Yeah, she wasn't much for making an effort, but... did she really look that bad?
Saber was still giving her that look, and the chances of the matter being dropped were less than zero by now, so Hakuno simply nodded meekly and shuffled to the pile of clothes. Normally, she'd just grab random garments and be done with the matter, but... the novice magus doubted her ability to survive another comment.

It took several minutes of fretting over which colours matched (dark green and midnight black were good colours together, right?! What about blood red and boredom-festering grey?!) before Hakuno nervously presented Saber with what she considered safe clothing; an old school uniform of hers that was hopefully to Saber's tastes.

...Which was highly doubtful, but Hakuno was not much of an expert on style.

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

Lancer

Blend in? Lancer affixed Jonathon with his usual glare as he left the room, wondering why he would need clothes to do that. After all, he could hide his presence as necessary from the general public, and wearing this country's clothes would do little to prevent another Servant from recognising his true nature. Simply a waste of effort, to do the work of a... well, servant.

As much as it bugged Lancer, he decided to put up with it for now. In the best case scenario, his master was simply eccentric, and would prove to be someone worthy of fighting under. With nothing else to do at the moment, Lancer explored the rest of the building, giving the rooms and doors nothing more than quick glances before moving on. Eventually, he found himself in the surprisingly-expansive gardens. He couldn't say they quite compared to the castle grounds he was used to, but it was a pleasant enough surprise to discover.

Eventually, his Master re-appeared, handing over the modified clothes. He did little to hide his disdain, evidently not a fan of modern clothing. As his Master went back inside to change, Lancer growled and followed. He prayed for an opponent to show up now. He needed something to vent with now.

[Assistant]
Saber

For a few moments, the black-haired Servant quietly regarded her Master, until the somewhat taller girl proceeded over to her bed and began to look through her clothing. Good. To be honest, Saber had little faith in her Master's ability to dress well after seeing how she dressed herself, but perhaps with her prompting an excellent outfit would be selected that would surely make a fine impression upon those whom they encountered. And indeed, her Master seemed more discerning as she searched through the various outfits, before at last locating something she deemed appropriate to wear and handing it over. Saber's dark green eyes fixed on the outfit as she held it in her hands. It was some form of formal wear, lacking in color but certainly appearing to adhere to modern standards of respectable attire insofar as the Servant could guess. This, indeed, would do. Perhaps her Master was not entirely helpless in this respect.

A green light shimmered from the center of Saber's chest, and with a flash and a small shower of green sparks the armor and fabric she had been wearing beneath it was entirely long, leaving her fair skin bare.

"Thank you, Kishinami-dono," she began, holding the outfit and directing her eyes back once more to her Master, "I shall now put it on so that we may leave."

With that, the black-haired girl swiftly donned the uniform. And indeed, thought her Master was somewhat taller it fit decently... for the most part. There were some locations in which it felt rather restrictive and tight, much to Saber's disapproval, but perhaps replacement clothing could be located. For now that was not a priority.

"While this outfit is uncomfortable in some locations, that matter can be addressed at a later time. I am ready."

[User]
Archer
With his tasks complete and new clothes fitting for the age he found himself in acquired Archer returned to the hideout his Master had first summoned him in so that he could report the results of his mission.

"Master, the surveillance stones have been placed so that their line of sight should form a reliable network of fields-of-vision throughout each area of this city. In addition I took the liberty of acquiring new clothing for the modern age which is quite fitting if I say so myself." With his mission thus complete he settled in with a look of relaxed smugness. Soon the Grail War would commence, he would win it and get it over with and he could fade away once more.

---

Mamoru Hayashi

Well, pretty sure there goes any secrecy or subtlety about who my Servant is so I guess I'll have to hope he's strong. But more importantly...

What did Mamoru want the Grail for, what were his motivations? These were definitely important questions and apparently if he didn't answer them right his Servant might refuse to comply with his orders or work with him properly and that would be completely disastrous. He considered lying and going with what his family would expect him to say about gaining power or infinite knowledge or glory forever or something like that but...

"Honestly? I just want to keep the Grail and all that power away from anyone who might use it for evil purposes. But if I had to have a wish...I'd wish to have enough power to help the world and be a Hero of Justice!" He actually found himself striking his best sort of dramatic pose as he shouted his true intentions, much to his embarrassment a split second later. It was probably better to get the truth out now than be found out later and if that sort of answer wasn't acceptable well at least he'd tried.

[Assistant]
Caster mused for a few minutes as he pondered the small set of possible locations to set up base in his mind. While the forest did seem enticing at first, he had to push those thoughts out of his mind. As easy as it was to set up there, the ability to siege against such a location and break through it from all sides was much too threatening for his tastes. No, in fact, of the remaining two, the burnt-down mansion seemed to best suit his taste for this particular scenario. The fact that Fio had mentioned the remaining location to be the 'site of the original town hall' made him worry about it; for all he knew right now, that location might have already been turned into something unsuitable for defense.

At the same time, though, the ruins of a mansion wasn't exactly the most reaffirming of options, but... He could make do with that, for sure. Might take a bit of remodeling, but it could work just as well, if not better, than what he was used to. Of course, checking out the third option was still there, but that was troublesome to his Master, especially given the fact that she was carrying all of his research materials. Maybe another time, then.

"Understood; personally, I would like to examine the latter two options, if it comes down to it. For now, though, I believe I would like for us to be unburdened before scouting out any of these aforementioned locations. Would it do us well to return back to your initial household for the moment?" he asked, looking around the area warily. Being ambushed like this was a death sentence, especially if the creator of this sigil was still lurking around the area...

[User]
With her servant suddenly stripping in a rather flashy manner, Hakuno very quickly turned her head away, focusing on the corner of her room as Saber got changed. She hoped there wasn't any noticeable blush on her face, as the last thing she needed right now was for Saber to get the wrong idea or something.
With her Servant now dressed and (thankfully) not commenting on its quality, Hakuno looked her over quickly. As she thought, Saber's... proportions were quite noticeable in these clothes. She'd need new ones bought as soon as possible, though Saber would no doubt insist on the patrol thing first, knowing her.

...The comment was not entirely necessary though, Hakuno decided glumly.

"R-right, well... let's go!" Hakuno said with some forced cheer, and headed for the front door once more.

[Assistant]
Fio Mal-Rai

Fio shrugged.

"It doesn't make much sense to be carrying all this stuff around when we go out to investigate things," she said with a shrug, raising the bags slightly, "I guess we'll have to head back."

When her servant returned to spirit form, Fio headed back. Jeez... maybe having such a methodical Servant was going to be more annoying then anything. I mean, he had a point, but going all the way back before visiting the sights was going to kind of be a pain. Oh well. With a sigh, Fio headed back. Maybe it'd give her time to try and work out what was up with the sigil that was marking part of a bounded field. What purpose could something like that have? It wasn't active, at least, as far as she had been able to tell. Her Servant didn't seem to think it was either, and as Caster he naturally had a pretty good idea about that kind of thing. So the question was what its purpose was and when it would be activated. She could guess that there were other sigils, but it was difficult to say.

It wasn't long before they had returned to Fio's temporary home. She placed the bags aside, for Caster to pick up and investigate.

Saber

Saber shifted uncomfortably in her clothing, but nevertheless she was quick to follow her Master out the door. Outside, she was instantly on guard. Her Master naturally needed the best defense possible, and so the black-haired Servant rapidly circled around her, watching every possible angle as carefully as she could. Threats could come from anywhere, after all, and it was important to keep her Master completely safe. At least as safe as she could be when they were outside and without further defenses. Saber had faith in her abilities, however.

... Still, her constant circling and vigilant watch on her surroundings must have seemed rather strange.


[System]
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Religion: Taoist
Sexuality: Bisexual
Occupation: Tai Chi Instructor
Abilities

Ana is well versed in Martial Tai Chi and is very good at cleaning, cooking and organizing. She speaks Mandarin Chinese fluently, and has a near photographic memory.

Faults

Ana is terrible with technology, and is plagued with OCD.

Power

Puppetry - The power to bind any nonliving material to a part of her body, so that when her body moves, the material does too.

Personality

Ana is very calm, following her beliefs by allowing the universe to flow around her despite her OCD. She trusts that everything is always as it should be, whether or not she interferes, and so it takes a strong push for her to be compelled to action.

History

For the first half of her life, Ana was nearly strangled by her OCD. Her need for everything to be controlled and predictable kept her from forming any sort of relationship with anybody and eventually caused her to retreat into herself. It wasn't until another social outcast, a first generation immigrant by the name of Ling, and her only friend, talked to her about studying the Tao that she made any headway against her disorder. The idea of Tao instantly clicked for Ana, and now instead of retreating into herself when her mind became overrun, she could fall back on her new teachings to give her strength. Eventually, the natural progression of her studies led to her dedicating herself to the mastery of Tai Chi, and she barely took any time for a social life. Still, she was happy, and although she still feels the impulse to keep everything organized, it no longer dictates her life.

[User]
"So, here we are."

Joanna panned the camera over the furnished living room of the apartment. It was tidy, clean, and thoroughly bare of any type of personality. It was banal in its sterility. Personally she was glad of that. It meant, as far as she could tell right now, that the place was perfect to imprint some personality upon. Besides, considering some of the shit-holes she'd stayed at recently...

She flipped the camera and the display back on herself. She had to admit, she looked tired. The fact that her jacket was soaked and ger hair was plastered to her head didn't help dispel that impression at all.

"I know you guys were looking forward to the trip to Santiago. So was I. It's just not going to happen with all the infrastructure damage that those storms caused. I said in the last video that I'd figure out what to do after getting here and my answer is... an in-depth look at living in Atlanta. Cascade Heights, Aatlanta, Gerogia. Home sweet home for the next few months."

"I don't usually do this, but I've wanted to do something like this for a while. To stay somewhere long enough to get more exposure to the good and the bad. Whether these vlogs do well or not, we'll see. I just want to say thanks for the support, it means a lot and I'll see you in the next video. JOurneyer signing off."

That ending could've been better, but Joanna didn't have the stength to care at this point. She made a beeline for her bed and collapsed. There was a spring in the lower right quadrent that would pop in a year. The far right cabanet in the kitchen had a screw loose. Her jacket was fine, but a higher quality leather would look and feel better. The list went on and on.

She wasn't even shocked by it any more. Two weeks of suggestions, warnings, and information were getting to normal by this point. The intrusive thoughts only served to exhausted her. She just wanted them to turn off for a while so she could sleep.

The bathroom sink needs drano to clear a clog.

"Oh god..."

[Assistant]
As the sun began to rise over the beautiful city of Las Vegas, two types of people were about. Some of them were there for a holiday, to enjoy the sights, spend a little money and just unwind. Others were here to make a lot of money, but it's naive to expect to make money at a place like this. Only about 1% of people will ever win bit in a place like this.

And with that, enter Mr 1% himself, Sebastian. Sebastian was a rather tall and slender man with long red hair and a wide smile slapped on his face. Sebastian usually spent his time driving taxis, but he had saved just enough for a night in Vegas at a casino. He hadn't had a chance to go to a casino since he had moved to Atlanta, what with them being not actually legal and all that. But, after a rather eventful night, he had emerged with an extra twelve grand under his belt. It started with a few small wins, but he just kept winning and winning. And he didn't even have to cheat this time! Granted, last time he tried that he wound up in an alley with some rather unfriendly gentlemen. He waved down a taxi as he got to the street.

"The airport thanks. I have a flight in like… half an hour? If you can get me there quick, I'll throw in a rather nice tip." He said with a wink to the driver as he stepped into the back seat. It felt a little odd not to be in the driver's seat, but he was a little too tired to care. He hadn't slept since he arrived yesterday, so he was understandably a little tired. He didn't even bother with accommodation, in his mind sleeping just meant you had less time to have fun. That was starting to take a toll though, as he found himself drifting off to sleep as the movements of the taxi rocked him slowly to sleep. But his peaceful respite was interrupted by the gruff voice of the driver informing him that they had arrived. He rubbed his eyes before checking his watch to see another twenty minutes before he had to leave.

"Well look at that, you did pretty well" He said as he rummaged through his wallet, handing the man what he assumed was a $20 note. In his sleep deprived state, he had accidentally handed the man $100 but he left before the man could say anything. Not that he minded too much, he had enough to keep him going for a while.

He stumbled his way through the check in and through the baggage checks, made far easier by the fact he had forgotten to bring a bag. He wasn't sure if he had planned to bring a bag or not. Or even if he had actually brought one with him in the first place. That said, he didn't have one now so he didn't think he had actually brought one. He sat in his seat and the plane proceeded to take off shortly after. His mind started to wander though, he had never really been too lucky when it came to gambling. That was a lot of the reason he kept going back, he was determined to finally have a lucky break. He had to wonder if it was a good thing though, was it possible to use all your luck? What if he had used it all and got hit by a car when he got home or something.

"Naah, my luck has turned around, I can feel it in my bones..." He muttered before he drifted off to sleep.

[User]
Kieran Hishamie

Introduction

Today had not turned out for the best. What had thought to be an amazingly easy contract was just about the most unfortunate contract he has had in a while. Murphy's law at its finest. Kieran walked down the sidewalk of Atlanta, Georgia in extreme pain. He was wearing a scruffed up long sleeve black jacket with a black undershirt. His black jeans were slightly torn up on his right leg with a small amount of blood protruding from it. His boots were scruffed to hell, making a squishing sound with every step. Kieran was holding his right arm with his left arm, and one of his eyes was slightly shut. To everyone around him, it would seem like he had gotten into a slightly horrible fight and came out the loser. Kieran was thankful that no one stopped and asked him questions. Kieran assumed it was because of the average clothes he was wearing. If he had looked like a homeless man maybe people would be reacting different. With a grunt of pain Kieran pushed his what was normally smooth black hair, now a matt of sweaty ruffled black hair, out of his face with his right hand.

Kieran was on a mission, contracted by a US Government agency. Which one specifically he did not know, he wasnt getting paid to ask questions and to know. Kieran was contracted to steal classified documents from an ex intelligence officer gone rogue. He was supposedly holed up here in this city, but with the limited information he was given Kieran was able to track down the rogue agent. Kieran tracked down the agent where he was squatting in an work in progress home. The construction crew was paid off not to show for the week by the rogue while he was staying there, waiting for the buyers for the stolen documents. Kieran was able to suprise the agent but a fight still ensued. After a grueling few minutes Kieran found himself backed into a corner. He had scouted the house in advance and was able top avoid the traps set, but the rogue was good. Not better at hand to hand combat, but he knew how to use his enviroment better than Kieran. The rogue gained feet using out of the way objects in their fight and gained the upper hand. But just when Kieran was backed into a literal corner, Kieran did something unexpected. He raised one hand, almost like he was trying to keep something away. Thats when hell awoke.

A small black shape in his palm, gaining more width and size in seconds. The rogue took a step back.
"What the hell?"

Kieran shook suddenly. Not many things scared him but this did. This had happened twice so far, once two weeks ago, and another time a week ago. Both times ended in blood and explosions. Kieran to warn the Rogue, tell him to get away, but couldnt. He was sweating, in pain, and already extremely tired. After five seconds the orb was the size and shape of a soccer ball. Then the soccer ball orb shot out, and hit the rogue in the gut. The ball, and rogue, shot back and the moment they hit the wall the orb exploded, incinerating the rogue, starting the collapse of the building, and hurting Kieran. Kieran forced himself up, and maneuvered his way out of the collapsing house, and falling to the front lawn in pain. He did a cool guy thing, not looking at the house as it was on fire, and collapsing. Not to be cool but because he was on his knee's in pain. Every time this happened Kieran always felt after effects from using this strange power. The pain was immense. Hopefully he could find a place to stay before he passed out, or better yet find his hidden cache to grab his money.

Thats were we are now. Kieran was walking along the sidewalk, passing people by, passing houses and apartements, trying to head towards his hiding spot. But as stated before the pain was immense. He needed to find someplace to crash for a bit, to rest so he can continue on later. And there was still the matter of needing to find those documents. Kieran had no doubt in his mind that the documents were located offsite of where the Rogue agent was. He had a job to do and he needed to do it quickly.

[Assistant]
It wasn't a lot, but sometimes Chris liked doing the little things himself. As he dragged the toothpick through the foam in the cup one last time, he reflected a bit on how surreal it was that he actually owned his own shop, but was still doing the same things he had been before. The only notable difference he could find was that now he had a lot more paperwork to do. Still, he didn't mind. There was a significant amount of pride to be found in running your own business, and he was certainly happy that his mother could relax now, after taking care of him for so long.

"This one's ready." He called over the divider between the kitchen and the serving floor. Normally the barista would be out at the coffee bar to make drinks, but since the incident yesterday he was afraid he'd scare away more customers if they saw him. His eyes were back to their normal blue now, but seeing a crimson glare from his own face in the mirror had been intimidating, even from him. His waitress had managed to play it off for him, but when she came at him for answers of her own he had none to give. Being the gem she was, she had dropped it for the moment, and agreed to cover him on the floor while he figured out how to get this new... quirk of his under control.


[System]
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Ier-Briar Thorn-of-Mountain Volkovin

17 winters have passed since my birth.

You're seriously going to ask? Female.

Like my father and his forebearers, I will strive to become a Shieldbearer capable of providing shelter from hellfire and shadowsteel.

As a nobleman's daughter, I am well-versed in art, languages, embroidery, music, dining etiquette, and philosophy. As my father's daughter, I can ride as well as any man, know how to care for my own armor and weapons, and can recite our family's pre-battle prayers from heart, no matter what situation. I will leave it up to you to consider which set of skills is more polished, considering my current vocation.

A lion doll. …are you laughing? You're laughing, aren't you. No, it's not cute. No, I don't care about other dolls. Why would you think that? Gods above, it's a memento you insufferable dweeb. Now come over here so I can break your shit-eating face.

Look me in the eye. Can you tell what sort of person I am? Good.

…

I have to explain anyways? For the readers? Gods, you're insufferable.

My mother thinks I'm an uncouth, rude tomcat, a terrible example for my younger sisters. My father thought I was the son he never had, full of the fire and steel he himself had during his springtime. My sisters, unlike what my mother would like to think, adore me. And for good reason. Though some rubbish-headed academics may consider me a hot-headed brute stuck in the body of a soft woman, I am anything but that. Challenge me to a drinking contest and I'll send you home with a face redder than the sun. Challenge me to an arm wrestling contest and I'll send your hand straight through the table. Challenge me in anything and I'll prove to you that I'm better.

Think I can't? I'll do it until I can.

My father, before he passed away, granted me the name 'Thorn-of-Mountain'. And if I can be a thorn to even an entity as mighty as the mountains that forged my people, then you better hope you don't find my thorns sticking into your sides. Insult me and I will break your teeth. Insult those I cherished and you better pray to the gods that's all I'll do.

My name is Ier-Briar Thorn-of-Mountain Volkovin, eldest daughter of Dry-Ael Blood-of-Wolf Volkovin, the Blue Fang of Alcidea, the Holder of Farrow's Deep, who passed away bravely two winters ago against the sullen horde of Valkraza the Hollow-Hearted. I was also engaged to some guy that was apparently of good blood, but I sure hope they gave up on it after I dumped a casket of wine on him.

As for my past, you can say that I was raised like any son in a warrior-lord's household would.

I'm a woman? Yes, I am. That's the point. My father was for it, my mother was against it, but considering how she kept on shunting out more daughters from her womb (thank gods for that), there was really nothing she could do. The glorious Volkovin name would be besmirched if there was a generation incapable of passing on the family arts to the next, after all. Alongside other, more 'sophisticated' arts befitting of a lady of my own standing, I've also learned the warriors' craft since I was a child, honing my skill with halberd and horse, sword and shield until I can say with confidence that I was one of the finest warriors in my age bracket.

Of course, the man my father swore a blood oath to didn't care for womenfolk amongst the ranks of his guard, and when my father died, all my mother could think about was selling us off to the highest bidder.

Perhaps I am being a bit harsh on her. Perhaps she simply wanted what was best, even if that vision doesn't align with my own interest.

But gods damn that conniving sow regardless.

Anyways, I took my horse, my armor, my steel and what have you, and now I'm here.

What do I planned if you turn me away?

…

Hahaha, why would you turn me away?

[User]
M α ʅ ʅ σ ɾ ყ

---

Province of Ilagorn -- Adventurer's Guild a.k.a. The Delipitated Duck
12th Hour of the 2nd Day, Summer

---

 "I'll be glad to have you both. Sign the charter however you wish, Siwan, Mallory."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, Miss Ier-Briar!" Mallory shrilled in an unusual bout of enthusiasm. After accepting the warrior's handshake she swiftly took the pen without word, making a quick, convoluted cursive signature on the charter. She thrust the pen and paper into Siwan's direction once she had finished, and finally looked to address the younger looking mage. Before she did however, Mallory took some time to examine her, and made no particular effort to hide it. There was something behind the girl's timid shuffling and gentle voice, something that caught Mallory's attention; an ambitious flickering within the mage's large, round eyes, shining through clouds of juvenile innocence piqued the fire mage's interest. Mallory simply smiled.

"Well, I suppose you could call me a fire mage, or fire magic specialist, whatever you prefer, dear. The beauty of my extravagant blue flames is truly something to behold, yes it is! Oh, but I've also got a little book of basic spells to help with solely domestic tasks, if you're interested," she babbled, taking out a hand sized, paperback book from her satchel.

"There's not many in here, but you can do a lot with a little! I haven't exactly learned all of the spells just quite yet because my mana control can be a bit... spontaneous sometimes, but that's besides the point. I am a fire mage at heart, after all! What are we without our... inherent spontaneity?"

Mallory kept her smile, hardly breathless from her sudden flurry of speech, awaiting the girl's response as another young man approached the group. Turning her head, she began to inspect him as well, keeping a watchful eye over the relaxed, somewhat modest movements in his walk. The instrument he carried especially intrigued Mallory, and she clasped her hands with excitement as soon as her gaze fell upon it.

"Oh, how wonderful it would be to have a musically gifted bard amongst us! Let us hear something sweetie, don't be shy! Show Miss Ier-Briar what you have to offer!"

[Assistant]
---

Province of Ilagorn -- Adventurer's Guild a.k.a. The Delipitated Duck
12th Hour of the 2nd Day, Summer

---

It looked as if only dregs remained now, the rest of the new adventurers either too intimidated by a group made almost entirely of women or too prejudiced to think that such a party could not ascend to glory. Ier-Briar had her own concerns, of course, about how much 'weight' she would be burdened by if she was the sole individual capable of standing at the vanguard, but those concerns could become a 'legend' just as easily, of the singular warrior who shielded her lesser companions from the grasp of devil and beast. Yes, she certainly will consider this situation as an opportunity for great growth.

The apparent final adventurer that had the testicular fortitude to stand up to her challenge was one who was certainly more keen of eye than strong of arm, judging by his lacking muscles, and Ier-Briar couldn't help but sigh in disappointment at the quality of the men who had so far presented themselves before her. Another beardless eunuch, it appeared, and though being a loresinger didn't REQUIRE a great beard and a belly full of mead, it was still disappointing that southerners were so bereft of manliness. A rogue or a bard, neither of which she could trust her flanks with in combat.

Sounded like her legend was only going to grow at an even more exponential rate at this point.

"I'll take you then," the blonde warrior said flatly, "Sign here. And as for your musical persuasions…save your voice so you may sing tales of our valor once we return from our maiden massacre."

The charter and pencil was thrust into Nimr's face, and, after giving the green-haired skinny lad a scant few moments to mark down his own signature (literacy wasn't a real requirement, after all), Ier-Briar snatched it away again and marched right up to the bespectacled woman by the counter, setting it down with finality.

"I've found my comrades, unorthodox as they are. Now, what work have you to offer those eager to prove their valor?"

[User]
---

Province of Ilagorn -- Adventurer's Guild a.k.a. The Delipitated Duck
12th Hour of the 2nd Day, Summer

---

"That was fast. I'm almost impressed."

Priscilla looked over the group as she took back the charter and glanced down at the list of names – and their atrocious handwriting, which, as expected was for the most part a bunch of scribbling. Another pain of the job she bore as guildmaster. Two mages, a cleric, and a wannabe-bard led by a stuck-up failed knight. That kind of composition would do them well until something unfortunate or ungodly stupid happened.

"Only a few initiate-level jobs for today." She remarked, coldly. "A nearby village lost a shipment in the Fogmere Forest. The local blacksmith here in Ilagorn needs a sword delivered. That's about it. Typical initiate crap. I wager anything a little messier like goblin cleanup or kobold interference in the mines is still an issue as well. Just don't make me wait all day."

[Assistant]
Province of Ilagorn -- Adventurer's Guild a.k.a. The Delipitated Duck
12th Hour of the 2nd Day, Summer

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As the guildmaster began to list off the available quests, Ier-Briar quieted as well, organizing and examining the possibilities for glory in the back of her head. A delivery, no matter what opportunities there were for beating back the hordes of bandit scum, held little to no interest for the knightly woman. It was a pedestrian duty, and couriers existed for a reason, did they not? The prospect of being sent out to exterminate kobolds or goblins was met with similar disdain, those sorts of monsters mere vermin compared to the true threats that besieged the world. Even children could kill goblins, after all, and killing kobolds who attacked mines was a short-term solution, when any half-decent mine owner would have had a long-term solution in play already.

To adventure into a forest as mysterious-sounding as the Fogmere Forest, however, that certainly sounded fun suitable for the maiden voyage of a new group of adventurers. Exploration, unknown monsters, and a treasure hunt, all rolled together into a single bundle. Perhaps it was merely a shipment of basic foods, but in times of duress, grains were worth more than gold, and a journey through a fog-ridden forest was almost certainly more enticing than literally anything else that had been offered.

…or maybe Ier-Briar just unconsciously didn't trust her comrades to handle an extermination quest yet.

"We shall take on the duty of recovering the lost shipment then," the knight said, decisively deciding for the rest of the team. "Are there any details as to where in the forest it had been lost? Or what it contains?"


[System]
Megan Pendragon
Character Quote: "I don't know if I have a soul."

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Character Summary
Aliases: Meg
Age: 25
Birthday: July 17th
Ethnicity: British-American
Fairytale Parents: King Arthur and Queen Guinevere
Birth Place: Wichita, Kansas
Gender: Female
Occupation: Junior Medical Examiner
Languages: English

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Appearance
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 140 pounds
Body Type: Athletic
Eye Color: Hazel
Hair Color: Dark Brown (Naturally Blonde)
Skin Tone: Pale
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Pierced Ears; Semi-Colon Tattoo (Left Wrist)
Personal Style: Megan wears her hair down, dying it regularly to keep her blonde roots from showing. She's never really felt like a blonde and thanks to her parents being doctors, it was never too expensive to go to the salon to get it fixed up. She wears earrings all the time, rotating between a pair of simple hoops and then something a bit edgier - such as skulls, coffins, or ghosts. As far as fashion goes, she typically wears a black long sleeve blouse, dark wash jeans, and Doc Martens. At work, she'll have her lab coat on top of this, with a pair of headphones in her pockets and black latex gloves.

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Psychology
Inquisitive * Unsettling * Patient * Dark * Meticulous * Blunt

Sexuality: Homosexual
Relationship Status: Single
Personality: To be succinct, Megan is a goth. She spends her day working with corpses to attempt to determine the cause of death, she wears skull earrings, and her general demeanor suits Halloween better than any other time of year. Her personality is well suited for scientific pursuits, as she is able to go through tedious experiments without wanting to rip her hair out. She has the self control and the strength to sit in a quiet room, just waiting. Additionally, she is naturally curious, always wondering about the laws of the universe and how to manipulate things to get a desired outcome. She adores a methodical approach with controls.

Of course, many people find her company to be unnerving. It may be because she will casually talk about unsolved murder cases and disappearances in ordinary conversation - dropping in statistics about the differences in crime rates in the summer versus the winter. Or perhaps it is because she was a champion fencer in college and could likely skewer them with a broom. Her unsettling aura likely also arises from her candidness - she doesn't lie. If she hates you, she makes that clear - and if you bore her, then she isn't going to waste her time. She's a bit creepy, but that's just how she is. She isn't going to change that about herself for anyone.

Habits: Tugging on her hair, biting her lip
Hobbies: Fencing
Fears:
* Being Buried Alive
* Cancer
* Lobotomies

Likes:
* Bugs
* Unsolved Mysteries
* Horror Novels
* Movies
* Escape Rooms
* Puzzles

Dislikes:
* Dresses
* Formal Dances
* Cigarettes
* Driving
* Swans
* Public Speaking

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Skills
General Skills:
* Drawing
* Forensic Pathology
* Forensic Science
* Driving (Car)
* Chemistry
* Medical Science

Combat Skills:
* Fencing
* Self-Defense

What Do They Carry On Them:
* Clothing - Black knit sweater, dark washed jeans, Doc Martens, black overcoat, skull earrings
* Purse/Wallet - M.E. Badge, ID, debit card, credit card, $30 cash
* iPhone
* Medical Examiner Kit
* Water Bottle
* Agatha Christie Novella
* Keys (Car, House, Lab)
* Pepper Spray
* Camelot armor that turns into a signet ring
* Small pet bat that can detect where dead bodies are buried

Possessions In At Home:
* Fencing Equipment
* Diplomas
* Black Cat (Wednesday)
* Black Volkswagen Beetle
* Unsolved Mystery Novels
* Pathology Reference Books
* Childhood Dream Diary
* Current Journal
* Emergency First Aid Kit
* Laptop

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History
Biography: Megan was adopted by a pair of doctors unable to have a child. They had tried just about everything and had resigned themselves to the fact that short of a medical miracle, adoption was going to be the only way to bring a child into their home. They had intended to go adopt a baby, but they just felt drawn to the little girl with blonde braids and took her home with them. And since they expected her to become a doctor as well, they didn't change Megan's last name - they didn't need another Dr. Montgomery in the household, it was confusing enough already.

Her parents provided a loving household for Megan, but they were also relentless. She had to compete in some sort of sport or participate in an activity, and the only one she showed a remote interest in was fencing, so they paid for her to have private lessons after school three times a week. Each summer, she was sent to at least five different camps, all ranging from different STEM subjects. They worried that she might be troubled, since she was adopted, so she had to attend counseling sessions once a week. In high school, she had to take every AP class offered, even if it didn't interest her. She ended up graduating two years early. And when it came time for college, they used their connections to get Megan into an accelerated program that combined undergrad and medical school into just seven years.

Her interest in pathology came from her love of true crime stories and unsolved mysteries, prompting her to take a job as the Junior M.E. in her hometown. She really enjoys the work, finding a sense of fulfillment in working with the cases - though most of her work actually comes from overflow cases from nearby cities that are larger than Wichita. The extreme pressure put on her by her parents has had some psychological ramifications, mainly insomnia and a brief period of suicidal behavior in her first few years of college, but Megan has started to come around the bend. Now that she's living independently and does not rely on her parents financially (they paid for medical school in full), she's able to stay up all night watching horror movies if she wants to.

Do They Remember Anything?: Megan was ten years old when she left Camelot and came to the real world. Despite being one of the oldest children taken by the rebels, the psychiatrist managed to convince her (and her adoptive parents) that she simply had an overactive imagination. After all, every little girl wanted to be a princess, didn't they? She still has the little journal she used to draw her dreams in and while her dreams of Camelot are less frequent now, they are still incredibly vivid when she has them.

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Additional Information

Theme Song:

Extra Information: X-Men; Jack Frost
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.

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Relations

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Megan Pendragon
"It's the darkness... It has me."

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⟢ 🎆Respects ⟡ 🌓Neutral ⟡ 👋Acquaintance ⟡ 🙇It's Complicated ⟣
⟢ 💛Friend ⟡ 💙Good Friends ⟡ 💜Best Friends ⟡ ❣Ex-Friends ⟡ 😈Frienemy ⟣
⟢ 💘Infatuation ⟡ 💓Loves ⟡ 💗Couple ⟡ 💕Basically Family ⟡ 💞Family ⟡ 💔Ex-Lovers ⟣
⟢ ♨Tense ⟡ 💀Dislikes ⟡ 😡Hates ⟡ 👿Enemy ⟡ 👹Absolutely Loathes ⟣

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💞 Jack Gold 💞
"Ugh, he can be so disgusting..."
Jack and Megan are adoptive siblings, only three days apart in age. They grew up together in the same overbearing household, having to deal with the weight of their adoptive parents' expectations. And now, as adults, they work at the same precinct - Jack is a detective, whereas Megan is the Junior Medical Examiner. They're roommates as well and tend to have similar sleep habits (Jack drinks his weight in caffeine and Megan is an insomniac) and they get along pretty well.

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Symbol Characters Name Symbol
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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Symbol Characters Name Symbol
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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Symbol Characters Name Symbol
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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Symbol Characters Name Symbol
"Overall Thoughts On The Character"
Relation Details

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[User]
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Pandora Quill

Location: Wichita, Kansas - Trailhead
Skills: Deception

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Pandora felt whatever intention her mother had slip from their grasp. It was kind of idiotic, in her opinion. If her mother had just told her the intention, she could have come up with a better scam than this. "Name's Trinity. You both have a great rest of your day. Let's resume our trek mother and we can have a nice discussion about how odd it seems to be so open to strangers, even well-intentioned gestures."

Once they walked away, Pandora dropped her silk smile. "I don't know what you planned to do there, but that was stupid. What girl in this day and age in their right mind would EVER enter a stranger's car unless it was an Uber? Please. Hope you have a back-up plan."

[Assistant]
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Jack Gold

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Location: Merlin's Warehouse
Skills: N/A

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 Jack just listened in to what Merlin was saying, as well as the questions that Meg was asking and the answers. He rolled his eyes slightly at her when she made a comment about how he was a typically good person. Like that was something that was very hard, he just tried to do the right thing no matter what was going on. Not because someone told him to, but because he chose to. Why was that a surprising sort of thing? Well from the sounds of it some people didn't expect him to actually not be some villain or whatever, that was definitely reassuring.

 "Not sure why Isabella would send me those pictures or whatever, but I do know where Maleficent is, or at the least where she was last seen. Since turns out all of this insane magic stuff might actually be real, was planning on heading that way after this since we kind of got stuck with the case revolving around the corpse of the person you identified as Grumpy. Then again, most normal people wouldn't get the whole magic might actually be real thing," Jack said to Merlin and Tinker Bell, before turning to look over at Megan again. "Do you want to head over there or are you on the side of we should avoid her at all costs?"

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Rosalia Rider

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Location: Her apartment -> Outside down the Fire Escape
Skills: N/A

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 She didn't take the time to actually look at who it was that was breaking down the door. The instant that Taylor headed out the fire escape, Rosalia slung her bag with the puppy in it over her shoulder and more or less jumped out the window onto the fire escape, racing downwards after Taylor. Once she hit the ground she glanced upwards slightly, as the little dog was still growling towards the window. She saw the man up there poking his head out the window and heading their way. Or at least trying to considering he had to climb out onto the Fire Escape.

 "Honestly I don't know what the fuck is going on. I saw him outside the apartment though when I was talking to the landlord. I have no clue who he is, or why he's following me. All I know is that this day has been a bit of a shit show of insanity and doesn't seem to be getting any better anytime soon. Now come on, less talking, more running!" with those last words, Rosalia grabbed Taylor's arm and raced out of the area that the fire escape had dropped them off at went out to the main street, and instantly turned to the left at the first opportunity she got. She had no idea what was going on, but she didn't want to stick around to find out.


[System]
Species: Human
age: 24
appearance: A young man standing at about five feet and eight inches, Ry had the build of a man very much used to hauling around equipment and pulling on ropes all day long. His blonde hair and silvery blue eyes were those of his mother, while his careful face belonged to his father.

skills: Boat proficiency - While spending so much time on the Black Corsair, Ryland has a lot of knowledge about the boat and how to sail it, even if he never was the one at the wheel. Zooming back and fourth between areas help keep him intimately familiar with the ship.
personality: The young blood who can't catch a break. Though he's been with the crew since a boy, he's still a boy to them despite his attempts at proving that he can do more. His desire to do more and be more is welcomed at sea, and not even the storms themselves have washed away his sunny demeanor. He has to keep it up, lest he sinks in morale like the rest of the crew on their bad days.

Moderately athletic- lifting and moving things around on a constant basis keeps RYland fit for duty, even if he doesn't always want to be the one carrying the heavy things.

Artist- It doesn't show up as much now that he lives on a ship, but Ryland was quite the artist back when he lived with his parents. He's best with paint and ink, but has been known the pass the time on the ship by carving figures out of wood.

biography: Born in a southern England town, Ryland always had a need to do something, yet he could never place it. His poor family often resorted in working for some seedier people, including pirates. When Ryland's father had a loan that was far too much for anything other than his life, the pirates took Ryland in exchange for the man's life. It almost seemed unfair, but the boy was treated well enough. Food, a bed, and a job. He spent most of his life on the Black Corsair under the leadership of the Lancaster family, specifically Martin Lancaster, the previous captain, and his daughter and successor, Sidney.

[User]
"Quaint," Lancaster said to herself, making it unclear if she was talking about the newly introduced woman or the little town itself.

Sidney Lancaster prided herself on being just as brash and bloody as any other pirate on the seas, but also made her fame by sometimes showing what could only be called a nicer side. For now, she'd be respectable. She could get a lot out of Faflon if she kept talking him up. He was already taking most of her wares.

From behind, she could feel a set of eyes on them. It was Ry, a young man a few years younger than herself, and the boy of the ship. He knew the Black Corsair almost as well as she did, but his attempts at trying to gain respect and authority seemed half-assed, like he almost wanted to stay on the sidelines, watching.

Well, no time like the present.

"Ryland, get over here." She commanded with a sway of her head. The young man jumped and rushed to her side.

Ryland wasn't quite sure what was going on, this wasn't normal business. The woman who Faflon the merchant had invited over was beautiful and mysterious. She held a face that seemed distantly familiar. "Yes, captain?"

"Oversee the rest of this trade. I'm going to use our new coin on some well-earned drinks." Her order was casual, almost careless, but the edge in her voice remained. "Simple enough for you, eh? I trust you can make us some more money from Fafland by the end of the day." She finished with a wry smile, laughing to herself before walking up. She didn't even bother listening to Ryland accept the orders. She knew he'd do it. He was a faithful dog.

Ryland looked back at the merchant and the woman almost expectantly, like they were trying to offer something up to him. "We have a little more blasting powder on the ship. Could sell it to you." What could they possibly gain from buying gunpowder? This was a sleepy little town in the middle of nowhere. Nobody was going to come by looking for powder. Rylan mentally hit himself in the face for such a suggestion.

"Wait, I got it!" He said almost excitedly as an idea came to him. "I've got some figures, wooden, that you might be able to sell. I've got a ton, being on the seas day and night." They didn't have as much use as gunpowder, but little figures like that would be something Faflon could pawn off to someone else, and get Ryland's works circulating. Hopefully it'd mean that he could sell them himself on day for much more than whatever the merchant would be willing to give to him.

[Assistant]
It would be safe to say Faflon was unimpressed by the amateur woodcarvings of the sailor. His choices as a merchant may have been questionable at times but he knew when to cut his losses. He did not appreciate the captain the misuse of his name by the captain. What would become of his reputation overseas if the woman could not even pronounce his name?

The merchant made no effort to hide the disinterest clearly showing on his face and heard in his tone voice.
"Mira dear, I'll let you decide if they are worth something, you have an eye for such rattletraps and trinkets."
With that Faflon turned his back to them, his expensive robes flapping in the wind. He made his way back to the village feeling worse with every step he took, realizing he had yet again created more losses. The prospect of earning some coin at the inn eased some of his worry.

Faflon had managed to once again put her in a compromising situation. Mira went out of her way to avoid unnecessary social interactions with strangers or even acquaintances for that matter. The constantly present gloom that hovered over her like a dark cloud made everything seem like a mountain to be climbed, tiresome and inescapable.

There was something about this sailor and his charming wood carvings however which stirred her heart. He was passionate about his creations and it made her feel the same. Ironically that was the best skill a merchant could possess, one Faflon did not have by any means. Mira held her shawl close to her to keep it from blowing away, as it was fluttering in the wind dangerously. She approached the sailor, grateful she did not have to introduce herself and admired his woodwork from up close. In her many years she'd seen plenty of them and they were beautiful in an unpracticed way. There were some novice mistakes along with some skillfully crafted details at the same time. It made each of them unique.

The young woman seemed to be lost in the details of the small statues, forgetting momentarily she was in the company of someone else. Then suddenly as if she was waking from a dream, she asked him one question.

"Did you make one of the sea maidens?"

Mira looked into his eyes, capturing them with her own. It was a strangely specific question she felt the urge to ask.

[User]
A short trip back to the boat and Ryland had fetched a small handful of the numerous figures he had carved while out at sea. With a mix of the rocking waves, nudging elbows, and his own simply adept level of skill, he managed to put fine detail in many parts of each carving, but left a little to be desired in other areas. So many of these little wooden figures were laying around the ship that Ry could barely keep track of them. Nobody really payed them any mind as they were stuffed in corners and hidden in little nooks and crannies.

He offered her one or two to look over, watching her as she insepcted them. His question caught him a little off guard, but he racked his brain enough to fish out an answer for her. The sea maidens is what she asked about, women who were confined to the waters by some accounts, free from the chains of being bound to land by others.

"Yeah, I have one or two." He replied calmly. He was intrigued by this myth of maidens, and made one whenever he believed he had spotted one out during his voyages. Nobody believed that he actually had witnessed a mermaid, and he wasn't too sure himself, but he gave himself the benefit of the doubt in the possibility of their existence. Surely they were just quite rare and preferred their solitude.

"I can show you, if you want. I'll just need another moment to head back to the ship."

[Assistant]
"No need, I will follow you there" Mira replied calmly.

She began to move towards the docks, glancing over her shoulder once, to make sure he would be leading the way. So his name was Ryland....
It was foreign enough she could tell he wasn't from this town or the next, but it was not so specific she could determine where the sailor was born. Chances were he was born on a ship, so that would make the sea his birthplace, like it had been hers many years ago.

As the ship grew closer Mira began to feel a feeling of uneasiness she hadn't felt in a long time. The wood was aged and touched by the sea, hints of green could be found here and there, mostly on the bottom of the ship. Sea algae and clumps of seaweed swayed in the water below. The young woman took a deep breath before stepping on board. Many of her older memories were vague recollections, probably to protect her from going mad. Her forgetfulness was her savior, but it made the feeling of unease difficult to fathom. It was like a fog clouding her mind.

Mira was curious to see his depiction of the sea maidens. It would the first time in almost a century she would once again see them. She waited for Ryland to find her wooden sisters, watching the sea from the edge of the deck quietly.

[User]
"Oh," Though somewhat surprised by her desire to follow him onto the ship, he didn't tell her no. "Well, follow me."

Ryland stepped onto the gangplank and welcomed himself back aboard the ship. None of the crew paid either of them any attention walking up onto the ship. Business as normal. The crew knew better than to hassle women, especially when the captain's dog was the one leading said woman around the boat. He'd inform her, then she'd have the hide of anyone who harassed a woman.

The woman, Mira, he believed he overheard her name, stationed herself on the railing of the ship, looking out onto the seas with an expression he couldn't quite pin down. She seemed fine right there, so he dove into the lower decks to find what he was looking for. All around in the nooks and crannies of the ship lay his wooden figures, but the maidens were somewhat of a treasure to him. Those were the ones he had hidden away from prying eyes.

A quick jump back up onto the main deck of the ship and Ryland presented Mira with two figures. To say that there was a significant jump and quality would be somewhat of an understatement. While the ones he gave to her before were the product of idle work and the need to keep busy, these two could really be called works.Ryland put days worth of time and effort into each one, and his dedication to the craft showed. They still carried a few amateur mistakes, but the fine detail Mira had spotted in the others was much more common and balanced through the figures.

The maidens of the seas, with the body of the woman and a tail like a fish to travel across their domain with ease. His work couldn't properly transcribe their beauty into wood, but they were far from shoddy. Their tails curled back up at the end, their long, flowing hair covered essentials, and faces touched with detail to try and express their beauty properly.

He gave her a minute to look them over. The crew, noticing this exchange, smirked and chortled, but said nothing to either of them. "So..." He looked at her nervously. "How are they? Worth anything?" He truly hoped they were. If not, he'd need to keep at it, make them better until they were perfect. Hopefully, hopefully, they met her standards.

[Assistant]
Mira was overcome with a sudden and overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. The sight of the wood carvings struck a cord deep within her. Their tragic beauty filling her with a sense of wistfulness. An involuntary tear ran down her cheek. She was touched, to be reunited in a sense. The cold drop of water tickled on her cheek and she brushed it away, momentarily at a loss for words. The young woman carefully took one of the carvings into her hands, holding it close to her heart. She drew in a shaky breath and looked at Ryland.

"They are a work of true art, you should be proud." Her voice cracked in the end, revealing she was moved beyond words by his creations.

The fact that Ryland doubted his own talents made Mira suspect he was not much appreciated on board of this ship. Perhaps as a crew member but not as an artist. She also knew the town well enough to conclude his wood carvings would not sell well. Not because they weren't worth anything, but because most folks barely had any spare coin to spend, whatever they had left they used for drink.

"I would like to buy one if you are ready to part with them" She said, still holding one of the wood carvings. She held it with such gentleness you'd think it was made of glass. Mira retrieved a sachet of large pearls she'd kept hidden from Faflon. If she had learned anything in the time she'd spent with him it was the fact that he only ever took things. She let a few precious pearls roll from the sachet onto her palm. It was the right of the artist to determine a price.

"This is the only currency I have." Mira had blessed these pearls under the moonlight, to protect the ones at sea from troubling storms.
"They are lucky pearls, they'll protect you"


[System]
Sex: Male
Age: 25
Species: Human

Place of Birth: San Antonio, Texas

Background: Born and raised in San Antonio, Rodrigo grew up with both medical and military men not only in his family but among the people he spoke to. His mother was a Texas native and a nurse who worked in a hospital. His father, a Mexican immigrant who made it to the US through hard work and wanted a new life away from his home country.

Rodrigo grew up with a normal upbringing, for the most part. He had friends as a child who stuck with him until he was in highschool. As a child, he was fairly active. He joined the football team. Rodrigo's mother was quite proud, and his father learned to be as well. His interest in weapons was sparked when a friend showed him an airsoft gun. When asking his father, his father asked to wait before Rodrigo could own a real weapon and that he would have to save up money for it. At the age of sixteen, instead of buying a new car, Rodrigo saved up money to buy parts for an AR-15. He put the weapon together himself.

As Rodrigo grew older, however, he began to outgrow his interest in the rifle, leaving it to more or less collect dust. In his late teens, as a teenager in San Antonio, Rodrigo came to becoming quite the city boy. Dating was limited to girls he met at school. Admittedly, the women elsewhere were less than appealing. The girls that were ended up being daughters of military stationed at Fort Sam- something that Rodrigo did not completely understand the complications of but still avoided.

Most of his life in his late teens had come to be about women. He adopted an altruistic approach, caring for nature and loving others in attempt to get the ladies. It was this mindset which led Rodrigo initially to become a doctor. Eventually, when his priorities shifted from women to a career, Rodrigo simply devoted his life to studying medicine. With his mother's blood in his veins, Rodrigo in fact became quite a good doctor- at least in training.

Then one day, a younger patient entered the hospital that Rodrigo was an intern in. Rodrigo was supposed to be nowhere near the Emergency room, yet as if fate had intended it, he was there. As Rodrigo approached, the patient's eyes began to glow with a black haze as the thrashing stopped and the patient turned slowly to look at Rodrigo, reaching out with a black square stone. The patient shoved the stone into Rodrigo's chest right where his left ventricle was, with enough force to pierce the chest cavity. As the hand pulled out, Rodrigo's body was left unscathed, but he began to collapse and Rodrigo himself became a patient.

Rodrigo and younger patient had their vital signs taken, and it was made sure that nothing was really wrong with them- at least nothing that modern science knew of. That same day, a neonate had mysteriously died from tension pneumothorax. Rodrigo's questions were answered not long after as a monster awakened in Houston, leaving San Antonio in ruins in the monster's path of destruction.

As the monster awakened, as did something within Rodrigo. He seemed to have heard the monster's thoughts for a moment as it passed, and it drove Rodrigo mad. At first, it was a small episode of existential terror. Gradually, however, the complications began to gnaw at Rodrigo's psyche. Every night, in his dreams, a message would flash before him. It was a vision, detailing the nature of his powers. Normally, a person would have shrugged them off. Rodrigo, noticing these visions came frequently, began trying to decode them. Crypting as they were, he initially sought help from a mystic.

When the mystic caught wind, she showed Rodrigo a piece of primordial rock- the same which the mysterious being of Houston had emerged from. The mystic didn't have any real clue what was about to happen, nor was she truly aware of the significance of the stone. Still, the damage was done.

Soon, the dreams came more frequently. They had driven Rodrigo insane. Whatever the primordial rock had, it awakened something within Rodrigo- something that shouldn't have been there. Rodrigo's once peaceful, fun loving psyche was soon replaced with thoughts of suicide and genocide, and all the other cides. The first victim of his madness: the mystic.

Many more came soon enough as Rodrigo developed the powers he gained from the Prismatic crystal and the primordialstone.

Equipment:
AR-15: A cheap AR build Rodrigo had since he was young. Instinctively, the rifle is maintained using Rodrigo's Prism, so that the rifle would not require constant cleaning and other maintenance. Rodrigo begins using the rifle by loading a magazine. This magazine is empty, the bolt chambering Rodrigo's Prism.

Powers:
Rodrigo uses solely the power of the black prism, and does so subconciously. He is more possessed by the energy than he actually uses it. The power itself seems to invoke a sense of madness as well as fear.

Bolt of Insanity: What Rodrigo actually loads his weapon with. When fired against an enemy, and hits, the bolt shows the afflicted a gruesome image that is both disturbing and difficult to understand.

Black Flash: Rodrigo can emit a "flash" of darkness, which completely negates all light in the immediate area for a total of two minutes. Rodrigo can use this move every ten minutes.

[User]
Rodrigo sat alone at a bench. It had been some time since Rodrigo was home, not that he could ever return. Having arrived quite recently, Rodrigo was still getting accustomed to living in Paris. It felt as if he went on a normal trip as a vacation, the experience would have been different. Still, he was where he was, doing what he was doing. Rodrigo didn't like it.

Ever since the incident in Houston, with the rampaging monster, Rodrigo had felt like chunks of his day were missing. Sometimes, it would be chunks of a week. He could vaguely recall doing things, and he could feel and see himself as though he had lived through the 'lost time'. Still, Rodrigo could not place all the missing memories. Though it didn't seem like much, it was enough to bother Rodrigo, as if something were terribly wrong.

At the park bench, Rodrigo was feeding birds as they landed. The birds were definitely a little different from the ones back in San Antonio. Even though he could tell pigeons were pigeons, they were different from the pigeons from home. If nothing else, they were definitely much slimmer.

For whatever reason, Rodrigo had an AR-15 slung on his back. It was ages since he could recall firing it. He had no ammunition either, but for whatever reason, had a thirty-round magazine. It was empty; of course. One thing that Rodrigo kept noticing was that others around him didn't feel comfortable. Rodrigo often received dirty or confused looks from strangers. Perhaps it was his rifle, or the way he dressed. The city was full of immigrants thanks to all that had happened in the city's history, and so Rodrigo couldn't place a single reason.

Then suddenly, Rodrigo felt his heart beating. He quickly reached his hand to his chest, curious as to what was happening. Another thud shook his body. With his hand, Rodrigo felt that it was not simply his left ventricle pumping blood. It was as though his entire heart were shaking, in rapid intervals. Rodrigo felt himself fall to the ground.

Then, everything was okay. Rodrigo got up on one knee and walked, turning his attention to a peculiarly hooded man, Pathos. Rodrigo, undoubtedly had no idea who this man was. From the looks of things, however, Rodrigo seemed interested. He soon reached his right hand to his back, unslinging his rifle. He pulled the charging handle, locking the bolt back to the rear, then rode the charging handle back. With his free hand, Rodrigo reached into his pocket and loaded a magazine into the magazine well. The bolt shot forward, and the first round was loaded into the AR. Rodrigo did not aim; simply put the stock in the pocket of his shoulder, held up the rifle, put his cheek to the stock, switched from safe to fire, and pulled the trigger.

The first round hit the ground, the brass falling with a metallic clink. Although the city was no stranger to random acts of violence, the residents in the area were already in a frenzy, fleeing the area for their lives.

[Assistant]
Mason stood, puzzled by this particular man. At first it had almost seemed as if he was having a heart attack, but something was off. Perhaps it was because he also happened to be a man of Latin origins, who somehow found his way to Paris. That didn't happen often in these times. However, He could also sense a particular aura around the man. There was no doubt that this was the man he had come to see, as something shifted, and an array of lights invisible to the human eye seemed to wrap itself around the man. This was the work of a Black Prism, but not like any he had seen.

Mason was curious. He took a step closer to see if he could help, only to have the man suddenly wield his weapon and fire. As everyone scattered, Mason took a step back with his right foot, loading a sharp serrated looking blue arrow into his bow, and fired. He didn't know who this man was or what had happened to him, but it was obvious that he was dangerous. He'd need to be taken out. He had no interest in killing the man, but he would do what it took.

The shots and the running crowd would give him enough time to get his distance. He turned moving quickly to his right, as his arrow soared to it's target. He cut through several bushes into the dark shadows of trees. Just enough light breached the trees from the city as a yellow pattern of light formed around Mason as he began drawing Prism. From the looks of the man's weapon, this wouldn't be a close range match, which was fine by him, but he needed to prepare himself. The Light particles moved about him, hardly taking any true shape at this point.

A Kilometer into the trees, he ducked behind a large solid oak. If this man had powers similar to himself, he could work it to his advantage. Truth was though, he wasn't sure. He'd only seen his Black Prism which had given him and his mother similar powers. If this man had powers from another black Prism, he wasn't sure how similar they might be. The thickness of the trees would prevent him from seeing through them, if he had similar abilities. Unfortunately, that limited his sights as well. He'd need to stay on the move till he could figure out what this man was capable of, exactly.

[User]
In the direction Rodrigo shot from, he was shot back. It was a split second that the possessed had to react. The black prism seemed to motion him slightly away, but not quickly enough. An arrow had grazed Rodrigo on his left elbow as he sidestepped away from the shot. He put his cheek to the stock well once again, looking through his iron sights to try and locate his target.

An internal struggle had occurred within Rodrigo. He was unsure why he was fighting this man, and he was unsure what he had just fired, as his magazine was empty before. Though Rodrigo could not notice, he had fired a shot of black prism. For whatever reason, however, he could not see it as such. Perhaps it was a way for his brain to cope; perhaps it was the work of the black prism itself. In a frenzy, Rodrigo pulled the trigger again, only to have it click as if the rifle had never been loaded in the first place. Rodrigo pulled the charging handle and looked inside the dust cover to see that his rifle was in fact empty.

That was when it happened again. His heart shuddered, but Rodrigo didn't take notice. He curled slightly over before naturally leaning back into a more relaxed position. He pulled the charging handle again. Through the dust cover, a glowing black energy was seen. Rodrigo attempted to line up his sights with his moving target.

Quickly, he pulled the trigger, as a shot of black energy came forth in Mason's general direction.

[Assistant]
Between the tinkering with his weaponry and the crowds of people running for cover, Mason was long gone before his opponent's shot. The second shot seemed to startle a lot more than just a crowd of people though. As birds fluttered from the trees above, Mason began churning Ultra-violet into his control, with his Yellow Prism. His opponent, depending on his speed, would be here in moments. The head start was advantageous. The Ultra violet he had summoned, he began to quickly weave into thin invisible lines that stretched from himself across the trees in this section of the park, in different directions and at varying intervals. They were thin enough for his opponent to walk through unaware. He'd try to stop his opponent if he could, but he was definitely ready to kill.

A bright red seemed to glow around the prismatic rainbow of Mason's eyes. His next move would potentially be devastating to his opponent, and he felt... Great! Passion surged through his veins, as he was ready to take this guy down. The full effects of Infared Prism ready to form. His body prepared for it as the heat seemed to vanish from the air. A cold night was suddenly becoming even colder.


[System]
Species: Tekeri

Appearance: Kareet appears fairly average, compared to most Tekeri. She has deep black, generally well-kept feathers and stands at about 6'11". Like all Tekeri, she naturally stands with something of a hunched posture, which, along with her serrated beak, sharp talons, and four piercing red eyes, would give her a rather feral, monstrous appearance to a Human observer. At first impressions, all that might set her apart from an animal would be her unusually clean feathers and polished beak.

Magical Affiliation: Lightning Domain Proficiency

Occupation: Seeker of the Order of Sages

Key Skills: Engineering, Wilderness survival, Combat magic training

Backstory: Kareet's early childhood was, in its entirety, unremarkable. 'Kareet' was not her original name, as the original was left behind with her former life. She was hatched to a peasant family in the lowest rungs of Arcaeda, but she was in her seventh year when her fate shifted. In Arcaeda, per the decree of the Archmagister, all children must receive at least one year of magical education, provided by the state. With the Archmagister's vision of Arcaeda as a modern city with magic at its core, the education primarily serves to ensure that every citizen knows what to expect of magic in the city, and how to efficiently work around it. However, it also serves a secondary purpose. In most species, children are more easily able to awaken to magic than adults, so these classes have allowed the city to expand its number of magic-capable citizens.

While the majority of children each year are unable to use magic, a small percentage, like Kareet, experience their awakenings, which then necessitates that the child must be trained in the usage of magic. In the event that the child belongs to a family that is unable to facilitate that training, then the state invokes what is called the "Law of Correction" to claim guardianship over the child. For Kareet, it meant being removed from the care of her former family and adopted officially by the Order of Magisters. While the Law of Correction can be contested, few ever attempt it, either because they recognize their child would have far greater opportunities in life with magical training, or because they are afraid of being unable to do what would be required to successfully challenge it. Kareet does not know her birth parents' reasons, nor has she ever cared.

Kareet was raised, by and large, by the Order of Magisters, which afforded her a proper education, including writing, logic, and mathematics, as well as training in forms of magic for which she had an affinity. For Kareet, that was the Lightning Domain. For youth trained by the Order of Magisters, their instruction encompassed the core skills of their chosen magic for most known applications, military and civilian. Kareet learned of how the Ascendancy had come to use her Domain, primarily magnetism, in construction and engineering, as well as receiving appropriate training in combat magic.

Magister's training provided a strong base for Kareet's knowledge of her Domain. To continue with the Order of Magisters would have brought her along the path of a battlemage to learn more of military tactics and improve her ability in "battlefield" magic. However, her interests brought her instead to transfer to the Order of Sages upon her graduation; not an uncommon choice, for the more academically inclined. Over half of the mages within the Order of Sages were, at one point, members of the Order of Magisters.

Within the Ascendancy, the purview of the Order of Sages is the accumulation and advancement of all knowledge, magical and non-magical. It is the combination of both which drives Kareet. While she certainly still seeks to improve her magical prowess, she finds herself intrigued by the concept of how magic and invention can be combined. For her trial of proving, she traveled beyond the Ascendancy, spending time in the settlements of several nations, from the capital of Mythadia itself, to remote settlements small enough not to appear on most maps. She made a particular effort to immerse herself in the practices of magic from other cultures. The Sages taught that all knowledge was worth collecting, regardless of origin.

Upon her return to Arcaeda, Kareet worked to make her contribution to the Sages' collective knowledge. Simply returning with something unique that was not part of their records, even if it was minor, would have been sufficient for her trial, but she did not wish to settle for sufficient with the mark she would make. Over about a year, she worked on concepts and designs that incorporated the capabilities of magic into her knowledge of engineering. Eventually, it was a device she had witnessed in Mythadia that inspired her own creation. Force mages were commonly used in many parts of the world to aid in construction, but she had observed a kind of elevator for lifting huge stones that used pulleys operated by a series of metal gears. A lightning mage needed only to turn a single gear to operate the elevator, which could hoist stones heavy enough to normally require several force mages to move. After working through a few concepts, Kareet managed to apply that idea to a siege engine. The idea of using mages to operate more powerful siege engines was nothing new, but Kareet focused on achieving that power more efficiently. Her final prototype was a ballista that used a similar gear and pulley system that a single lightning mage could operate, which was just as powerful as similar weapons that usually required multiple force mages.

At present, Kareet has been granted the rank of Seeker within the Order of Sages, in light of her skills and interests. Seekers are generally the more independent and combat-capable of the order's members who specialize in the search for knowledge, regardless of the dangers that may be required to obtain it.

[User]
@Blizz @13org

  Kolvar Stilmyst

Kolvar still did not understand the equation and what the pinkie was trying to say. "Damn if only we had a thought mage here." He cursed under his breath with a grimace on his face. He took a closer look at the equation in front of him. "It seems the pinkie wants the aluminum quill." He wanted Kareet to trade the pen for the strange tape. Watching the alien writing down another equation this time on the metallic wall. Taking a moment to try and figure out what it meant. "Do you have any idea what this new equation means? Does it look like some sort of measurement of some kind?" Tapping his clawed hand towards the bottom of his beak. Again he was having a hard time trying to figure out what the equation meant.

Extending it out while reading the numbers along the tape. Letting go and looking scared as it snapped back into place. "Strange." He once again extended it out for Kareet to have a better look at. Perhaps this measuring tape would be the key to them solving the equation. "No I do not think this creature is alone, so we should be ready in case the others come. And I assume the other crewmembers will be quite aggressive." He said pointing towards Vigdis.

"But we should keep a levelled head, and keep trying to keep making communication with these foreigners." He did not like the introduction of Nellara and her people waiting outside. He did not want to lose the valuable information inside the ship to the Order. He felt like an idiot for not being able to figure out the equation. But he would try his best to help them.

[Assistant]
J'eon the Blacksmith

"So, ask yourself this then - who did bring down this city of metal?" J'eon asked, waving his upper arms. "And why are you in here instead of out there, keeping an eye on the skies?"

"This is a trade," the Glen continued. "Information for information. You'd do well to remember that, Castigator Nellara."

---

Jack Mallory, X.O.

"Personally," Jack sighs, cycling the inner lock, "I'd say we couldn't risk the captain on this, and that I'm the one who should go in there, alone. But there are multiple races in there, so we need to show we're different, as well."

Handing the carbine back, he patted his handgun. "Best hold onto that if you need to rescue us. This will not be as intimidating."

Stepping inside, he waited for the captain to join him.

[User]
Tired as she was, having not slept for three days, Mallory's words served to jolt Zey awake. Her chemical gland followed suit, pumping stimulants around her system. If they all went in and things turned hostile, the Jo could lose its Captain, XO, four engineers and a senior Tamerlane contractor. The rest of the crew and passengers would have next to no chance of leaving this planet without a rescue team. Zey was already bending all the rules of first contact by going in there; there was no way she was going to sit back and let the others reap all the glory. But there had to be some sort of counterbalance.

"Noted, but there's no way I'm letting you go in alone. Too dangerous. That being said…" Zey replied to Mallory, then turned to Zhao.

"Zhao, I know you're going in for Vigdis but I'm pulling rank. You're staying put - Anselm can take over Command, but we can't lose all our engineers. Organise the crew and take defensive positions by the airlock. We won't be long."

"Captain!"

"That is an ORDER!" Zey snapped, face rippling with adrenaline.

Zhao let off a string of expletives in Mandarin that the Captain didn't catch, then stormed off.

Zey followed her away with a stern look, then turned to Danny Varen and Tyreese Darnell.

"You too Danny. Can't let you and Dr Ibarra both in that room…Mr Darnell, If I give you a weapon, will you shoot me in the back?" Tyreese sniffed nervously and shook his head.

"No ma'am." He replied sheepishly.

Zey stared into his eyes for a moment. He wasn't that drunk, and she needed someone imposing to show that while they spoke softly, they had big sticks too.

She took Danny's Benelli shotgun and put it into Darnell's grip.

"Stand in front of me and don't do anything stupid or I'll kill you myself. Everyone ready?"

With that lightning reshuffle completed, Zey filtered into the airlock behind Mallory, followed by Dr Ibarra, and Tyreese Darnell. The airlock cycled again, and they emerged out into the shuttle bay. Zey held her palms out and tried not to panic as she saw the creatures at one end by Vigdis. Her heart rate and breathing increased, and her mask made a rasping sound as it processed the air.

[Assistant]
Kareet was only half-listening to what was going on around her, preferring to put most of her focus on trying to interpret what Vigdis has written. Unfortunately, she and Kerchak did not have too much success this time. The fundamentals of mathematics had not been too difficult to convey. Counting was easy enough, and they could relate counting to symbols and basic operations. However, whatever Vigdis was writing now was difficult to convey without words. She doubted the math was too complicated in itself, but whatever notation Vigdis was using was entirely foreign to her. There was no frame of reference to what they were trying to convey. Perhaps, with more time and effort, they might have been able to discern it, but it seemed they would not have the time now.

Kareet gave a glance back at J'eon, having picked up on some of what he had been saying. "J'eon, we are in Ascendancy territory, and Nellara is an enforcer of Ascendancy law. Or can be, at least. It is in your best interest to be polite and cooperative with the Castigator." Kareet warned.

It was just a few moments later, though, that a noise turned everyone's attention to what looked like a door nearby, albeit a rather strange door. It hissed, then seemed to slide open on its own. From the other side, more of these beings stepped into the room. They were dressed just as strangely, or at least some were. One had a mask, though Kareet could not guess at its purpose. If it was armor, then why was the rest of its body not armored as well? They all looked like they could be the same kind of being as Vigdis, though even in this small group, Kareet could already note some variety in their bodies. There was considerable difference in size and build between some of them. Male and female, perhaps, though she would have to figure out how to confirm which was which. They also had significantly different hues to their skin, much like the variety in scale colors of the S'tor. Some of them were carrying large objects of some sort; tools or weapons perhaps? The safest choice was to assume the latter and be watchful of what they were doing with them.

Kareet stood up to her feet, looking down on the new arrivals, though staying in place near to where they had been writing on the wall. After a moment's pause, she pointed a finger down to Vigdis. "Vigdis." She said as clearly as she could, then pointed to herself. "Kareet."