[System]
Nickname/ Moniker: Old Hunter, White Hawk, Bloody Old Bird

Age: 99

Gender: Male

Species: Kin (Human half-breed of eldritch being. He's never met either of his parents)

Sexual Preference: Hetero, but has experience with both sexes. ("I got bored and spent a decade trying something new. Sue me!")

Likes : Cold-weather, any type of precipitation (rain, snow, etc.), intelligence, theater, reading (mainly deep fantasy), video games (A relatively new interest), and junk food.

Dislikes: Ignorance, cold hearted people, country music, most rum, summer or rather hot days in general.

Bio: Aria came into this world among blood and gore during the Great War, in a field hospital just behind the trenches of the English line in France. His father died the day before in the no man's land and his mother supposedly died in childbirth. The orphan, by some odd circumstances he still doesn't fully understand, was taken back the United States and raised in New York. As he grew he began to find friends within the organised crime gangs of the city under Prohibition, helping the speakeasies get supplies off the small boats off shore. Upon Aria's further investigation into his parents, he found that his mother was not human, but of some elder race without name. Some fanatics, like H.P. Lovecraft, referred to his race as being god-like. Aria was unaware of such god-like abilities until he was called upon during World War II. When he was killed in combat, he would awake the day before as if it were a dream and proceed along the day the same way until he survived. His blood also seemed to assist with other human's wounds, sealing them up quickly. He kept his race a secret from his fellow soldiers, helping with his unique perspective on battle where he could. After the war, Aria used his compensation to move to America and set up a small bar of his own. His bar has remained there ever since and he has been taking odd jobs out of there for everything from jewel heists to demon slaying. He cares little for the money, but is more interested in keeping himself entertained. Lately, video games have been a welcome distraction and has amassed a large collection.

Occupation: During the day, he works as an editor for a small media firm reporting on video game news and information. (It covers the rent at least,) During the nights, he bartends at a bar downtown, where he also subtly advertises his side business.(Hired gun, thief, assassin, monster hunter, etc.)

Country of Origin: France

Feelings about meeting their soul mate: Wonders if they will shy away from his chosen lifestyle and how old they would be when he meets them. Worries about how much time he will have with them and watching them die.

Soul mate: (Leave this blank until I assign your characters their soul mates)

[User] Abel's face lights up and a smile joins it. "S-sure, what time is good?" He seems nervous still but excitement and joy are both clear in his voice. If anything he had expected to be shoved away not asked on a date. At least, he hoped it was a date... It seemed like a date. His gaze meets her eyes and stays there as the look of excitement remains. He had ideas for where to take her, but it depends on the time. his smile wavers though as he notices the scarlet coloration of her face. If anything he worried that he is being to forward. His voice goes down to a bit of a whisper as his head tilts downward. "If...if you want this could be more of a getting to know each other then a date."

[Assistant]
~~~ The next day~~~

Béatrix ordered a drink from the bubby flight attendant once the plane had taken off. She pulled up the shade so she could stare out of the window at the sparkling blue ocean below. This trip was supposed to help clear her mind but she wasn't having much luck yet. Her thoughts kept wandering back to him, to their heated exchange. Trixy's eyes flashed bright with desire and she was thankful that she was wearing sunglasses to cover them when the stewardess returned with her drink.

The flight from JFK to Edinburgh took a whopping 7 hours, making Trixy all the more thankful that she'd splurged and got the direct flight, rather than one with connections. The landing went smoothly and Béatrix was able to retrieve her small luggage tote without any hassle. Frida wasn't much for modern technologies so, when Trixy visited like this, it was up to her to get to her Grandsire's little house in the hills. It also was generally a surprise visit, since Frida didn't use phones.

Trixy paid for a cab out into Middle-of-nowhere, Scotland, tipped generously and waved to the driver politely. The femme fatale vampire looked a bit out of place in the rural scene, but Frida was right: Scotland was beautiful this time of year.

As was usual, Frida felt Trixy's presence before she saw her. The front door of the old home burst open and out flew the most beautiful blonde Trixy had ever laid eyes upon. The sight would never cease to shock her.

"Granddaughter! What a lovely surprise!" Frida cooed and dove in for a huge hug. Béatrix practically melted into the woman. Frida invited her in for tea and a long overdue chat. Her soul mate, a very old Irish witch named Aislinn, set to boiling water for tea while Frida and Béatrix sat at the table.

Béatrix ended up pouring her heart out to the ancient woman. Ex-viking or not, Frida was the kindest soul she had ever known, and the love she shared with Aislinn was hard not to idolize. Frida put her hand on Trixy's to comfort her. Being the empath that she was, Frida could have easily taken the feelings away, but that would do little to solve the underlying problem.

"Oh, dear girl. The world has turned you into a hardened warrior, but I promise you, you deserve this. You've gone so long without love that you've forgotten what it feels like. Any number of years in love, no matter how few, are far more precious than an eternity of loneliness. I know you see the wolf as a curse, but perhaps the fates are granting you a kindness. He is strong, nearly your age, immortal, and his heart has felt the same pain as yours."

Trixy traced her fingers along the grains of the wooden table. It was kind of awkward to receive advice like this from her late soul mate's sire. But Frida was family, some of the only family Trixy had known.

"Although, I don't think it matters what I say. Your heart knows what it wants, even if that over analytical mind of yours denies it. What you should do is go see your family."

"But, you are my family!" Trixy said defensively. Frida chuckled warmly "That may be so, but I was referring to your French family. You were telling me how you finally met the current Delacroix generation last year, now that us vampires are 'out-of-the-coffin' to the humans."

The graceful red haired woman brought over the tea, and sat beside Frida. "You will find peace there, it is written in your fate." Aislinn chimed in, using her eerie witchy voice.

"Well then, who am I to try to outrun my fate?" Trixy joked before taking a sip of her tea. "I suppose it has been too long since I visited home…"

[User]
Aria Kelly

Friday. Research day has slowly become his favorite day of the week. A day dedicated to getting hands on with the newest tech or game was always a good day in Aria's book. That and this was the only day of the week that he didn't have to walk into his stuffy office and get hit on by Alice. The woman meant well, but her constant want to go on a second date. The first one was a definite mistake, but perhaps he should have known better than to turn the charm on and put his hair in her favorite style from the Witcher. She was a big fan of the series. The irony of the train of thought could not be ignored as he slipped the third installment of the series into the disk tray of his PlayStation. Pulling up his notebook, he prepared to try and finish as much of the game as he could until he had to open up the bar. Two hours in, Aria found the game very charming and a great improvement on the series in terms of game play and story. Four hours in, he had become convinced that the writers of the book these games were based on was a misogynist pig overtly obsessed with his silly OC, seeing as he had slept with at least 6 different women within his time playing and they all being fine with Geralt's lack of care. At the end of his play session, Aria felt fit to go on a Tumblr rant that would make even the most fervent of feminazi's pause, but decided that he would simply drink while he tended the bar instead. Perhaps Alice wanted to him to pick up a few tips from the main character, but didn't believe he had it in him. His track record with the fairer sex couldn't fill in a pamphlet with all of the gritty details included. His thoughts wandered toward his mark on his wrist as he stepped into the shower.

This single character, written in no identifiable language, with an almost ominous feel seemed to stare back at him as the warm water ran over his person. It seemed to be his mother's native tongue, beyond human pronunciation and layered in meaning yet to be discovered. He had found similar marking when researching his mother's roots, but usually he would find nothing more than the symbol. On the one occasion that he found someone who could interpret his mother's trademark 'rune,' this madman's speech was a jumble of different languages forming a sentence that roughly translated to "one third whole." This phrasing brought into question the existence of his mother having sisters or brothers, but when he tried to learn more from the madman, he cursed at Aria and told him to begone half-breed. He had killed himself that very night. Although curious, Aria figured that he would have to leave the discovery of his mother's family in fate's hands and wait for more promising clues for the trail had run dry. Stepping out of the shower, Aria busied his thoughts with the work coming his way. After the fifth renovation of his bar, Ye Ole Huntsman became the preferred pre-game spot for a younger clientele heading to other clubs and bars. The hours of 9-11 were his busiest hours during the weekends, which required him to talk to many ignorant people. An loathsome task, however he couldn't ignore the income it was netting him. Taking a hit of his bong before brushing his teeth and using mouthwash, Aria got dressed for work. Stepping out of his apartment building, Aria quickly rushed to the subway and began to take the short ride downtown. Opening the bar up, he soon found his employees coming out of the woodwork of the city as he unlocked the door. Setting up behind the bar, Aria prepared for a long night of serving.

[Assistant]
Astley pauses and looks around. Then, a large smile stretches across his face as large dragonfly style wings unfurl and he launches into the sky. With the wind hitting his face and blowing through his air he feels at home. His eyes close as he enjoys the air. However, all good things come to an end. He 'lands' by Aria's bar and stands back up. Considering that his form of landing is usually falling on his butt, it makes sense that he tries to straighten up first. He walks in curiosity getting the best of him. That and the thoughts of heavy liquor.
As he walks in he straightens up his hair more. Of course, he had forgotten that he is in his normal clothes but with his doctor coat. That is quite embarrising for him. Now he tries to act natural as he walks up to the bar.

[User]
Aria Kelly

Wings.... Luminescent wings and a sweet scent that reminded him of flowers. If Aria didn't know any better. Pixie? Fairy? Aria had a hard time telling the difference with males. Either way, the man looked haggard and in need of a drink. With a grin, Aria reached under the bar and pulled up a glass and an dark brown bottle. Setting the glass on the bar, he fished out two ice cubes and poured them into the glass with a double of the amber liquid. It was one of Aria's favorites, though he usually had it with a lime. He calmly signaled toward the first patron of the day as he pulled another glass from under the bar. He figured he wanted something strong, but smooth as to not make him regret drinking. He began to fix his own glass as he spoke. "So I've fixed you up with peach whiskey to start. It's on the house. I don't exactly meet many of your kind out and about, so I figured I'd celebrate. Too my first male fairy in the bar." He said as he finished preparing his glass and rose his glass.

He studied the man calmly as he waited for a response. By his lab coat and hospital ID pinned to him, Aria deducted that the man was either a doctor or worked in a lab. Perhaps the creature wanted to vent about his day. Depending on his response, Aria may have found his drinking partner for the night.

[Assistant]
Astley blinks then chuckles. "Close but not quite" he takes the drink and does a salute with it. "Thank you" wide smile before he tosses it back. "Now I must ask...what are you? Not many can come even close when my glamour is intact" his eyes sparkle with curiosity. He is right, usually the glamour keeps him hidden...unless it is his birthday. But, it is not so the curiosity remains intact.
He leans forward and his eyes seem to take on a more feral nature as he studied the man. The smile remaining on his face becoming slightly more sinister. After all, he may be a generally good person but he is still a pixie king. And that gives him a few difficulties when it comes to acting human.


[System]
Nickname/Title: Calamity Queen
Appearance:(ignore the gunblade), and add a black cloak with a hood.
Race: Human, although she views herself as a shade.
Class: Necromancer
Main-Hand Weapon:Double Edged Battle Scythe
Off-Hand Weapon: Find someone who wields a normal scythe with one hand effectively :P
Secondary Weapon: Her lips
Armor: Cloth
Powers:
-Necropolis: The mainstay of almost all necromancy, this allows her to summon up either skeleton or zombie creatures. Skeletons have the advantage of damage dealing, but are more brittle than their fleshier counterparts, who in turn, deal less damage. The more numerous/powerful the summon(s), the more it costs.
-Shadow Step: A more effective method of dodging attacks. Whenever an attack is about to hit, she will seemingly dissipate into the shadows, before appearing elsewhere. Can also be done for movement to a hard to reach location, or surprise attacks. Range and strength of natural shadows in the surroundings dictate how much life it costs.
-Devouring Kiss: A seemingly simple spell, this is also one of the most important spells that allows Suki to stay alive. She basically kisses someone, regardless of gender, and can either drain them of energy, or their life. The former has the advantage of not killing the target, but the later is more efficient in sustaining her.
Skills:
-Seducing: She has gotten rather capable of seducing someone, mostly to keep herself alive. With her looks complimented by the dress, it isn't too hard to do.
-Stealth: When required, she can be extremely stealthy, moving silently at an acceptable pace, which is something one can't exactly do with heavier armor.
-Information Gathering: Combining both her abilities to seduce someone, and her stealth capabilities, it's not surprise that she can gather information.
Weaknesses:
-Dying Life: Necropolis and Shadow Step have a cost. Compared to most spells and magic styles, which consume the caster's energy, necromancy based spells consume the caster's life. Thus, requiring the caster to consistently drain someone to keep herself alive.
-Active Dodge: Despite having the Shadow Step spell, it is an 'active' spell, meaning she has to deliberately cast it. If a surprise attack hits her, it's going to hurt, especially with the cloth armor.
-Thin Armor: Cloth armor, while extremely light and allows for agile movement, doesn't give way much in terms of taking hits.
-Easily Flustered: Despite having to kiss to keep herself alive, Suki is flustered quite easily. This is evident when she tries to kiss someone she knows
Personality: Cautious and prone to hiding, one might find Suki hard to associate with. Not because she's violent, or unsocial or anything of the like. It's just that you might have a hard time finding her. And even when you manage to get we to talk, she seems to talk rather softly.

However, once you get to know her, and gain her trust, she becomes a rather useful and adorable companion. Whenever tired, she would not be afraid to use someone as a lap pillow, nor be used as a hug pillow herself, despite blushing very profusely. Also, she will come to you for a kiss quite often.

Whenever scared, she has a habit of squeezing herself into a small corner or a tight space between furniture, the look of doom gloom on her face.
Background: Coming from a village that had religion as a pillar of support, it isn't too hard to imagine what kind of suffering Suki had went through just for being born with the powers of a 'demon'. Consistently being chased away from others, even having rocks thrown at her.

Having to survive on her own, she found her way through rather underhanded methods. By far the most effective seemed to be seduction, before draining her victim into unconsciousness.

Nowadays, she moves around consistently, since most of her victims would be out to look for her, and churches would be out to hunt her down.
Other:

[User]
Furnace noted the other beings around the wooden circle had noticed him and one of them wished to trade words.
He eyed the tall figure, he had a magnificent beard, he was tall but not as physically imposing as his new metal bound friend.
The thing that stood out about this guy was not his appearance. Furnace tilted his head slightly without breaking eye contact with Kelvin.
"Petroleum, iron filings, sulfur, fresh paper...and something else... You smell interesting."

[Assistant]
Once the group he had latched himself onto entered, Vis followed, closing the wooden door behind him. Once the merry group had entered, Vis veered to the left and towards the bar counter where the bartender stood and dried out rinsed tankards. "Ith there a chanth I can thake a thankard outh?" asked Vis, watching the man behind the counter dry out the mug.
"Sorry mate, nothing leaves the tavern that's not yours." Vis sighed, he didn't like to drink or eat in public, he had to take off the scarf and let people see his gnarled up scar and exposed teeth, he didn't want that. He was about to walk away and find a seat but behind the barman was a sheld of unopened bottles of drink, waiting to be bought. One of the bottles caught his eye, it was a plain green bottle, slimmer and taller then most, with an all too familiar label; it was a bottle of ForestElf, Wildberries and Alderflowers and it was new, Vis didn't like aged.

"How muth for tha ForethtElf?" Vis asked, he watched as the man reached up to get a bottle that sat next to the one that caught his eye, it was a lighter color and the wax around the cork was damaged, showing it had been watered down and re-sealed, "Tha fresh one pleath." said Vis patiently, as the man grumbled and brought down the unopened one.

"40 gold," said the barkeeper, clearly disgruntled by his failed attempt at selling him watered down booze, "Special discount for you my lispy friend."
"fiftheen gold and I'm noth your friend you con artitht." He glared at the man and rested his hand on his rapier, as the man dropped his hand under the counter, probably gripping a weapon.

"40, you half-elf mongrel."

"Fiftheen, you gold pinthing donkey."

[User]
Carver stepped beside the half-elf and put a hand on his shoulder, smiling at the barkeeper. "No need to ruin this good day with... regrettable actions, friends. What do we say to thirty gold, and I'll put up half of it... provided you share some with our new friends, of course." It was obvious so far that the barkeep was a cheat and a swindler, and in another time Carver would have loved to have words with him on the subject. However, not on such a fine day, in so crowded a place, with friends in need of care nearby. The priority right now was diffusing the situation.

"How much for something hot for my diminutive friend, good man?" He gestured back to the gnome sitting nearby, who looked to be sniffing at a bearded stranger. The man didn't seem offended by this, so that was good. Carver jingled his coin purse and was disheartened by its lightness - a life of charity had taken a toll on his funds, it seemed. He'd need to find some form of income soon, but that could wait.

[Assistant] The barkeep looks Carver up and down, "For a respectful man such as yourself, 30 pieces is fine, as for food, that'll be 20 pieces for a nice hot meal." The barkeep brings the down the bottle and holds out his hand, waiting to be paid.

[User]
Vis, shook off Carver's hand and just glared at the barman, ignoring the paladin's offer after hearing the lightness of his pouch, he was too prideful at that moment to accept help and he didn't see it fair to take from someone who had little to begin with. "I'll pay thirthy." growled Vis through clenched teeth, his green eye casting a bright shaft of light at the barman's face.

"Fifty." replied the barman, seeing that Vis was willing to pay more, the man smirked. In no mood to barter any further, Vis shoved his fist into the his coin pouched and clenched about half in his fist before throwing them at the taverner's face and snatched the bottle from his grubby clutches, "What the f-!"

"You goth tha money, now shuth up!" yelled Vis, not caring who heard him. He turned around and let the paladin get what he wanted from the disgruntled man picking up coins from the floor. Vis found a secluded seat in a dark corner and popped the cork from the bottle, he took a deep whiff of it's smell, 'the smell of home.' he thought, remembering that the brewery was in his home town. He was about to lower his scarf to drink but he noticed a faint white glow coming from his blind, left side. He turned to see the girl in the pointy hat, he groaned, not seeing her as she was on his left side. Sp he went over to another seat, farther into the corner and away from the zoned out woman. As he sat there, on his own, he glanced at the girl in the pointy hat.

[Assistant] "Well, since your friend there is so rude, you have to be the normal price, 35 pieces for a nice meal." He sneered at the paladin, then looking at the rogue, "And if he causes any trouble, I expect you to take care of him because you won't like how I do it."

[User]
Carver watched the irritated half-elf storm off and shook his head sadly. If the man wanted to be surly, that was his own business; at least there hadn't been a confrontation.

He removed the thirty-five coins from his (now even lighter) coinpurse and slid it across the counter to the barkeep. "A hot meal, then, for the gnome." The barkeep pocketed the money and barked an order to a barmaid. Carver leaned in closer to the man then, still smiling with his mouth, if not with his eyes. "Yes, I will take care of any trouble. And perhaps, another time, you and I may have a discussion about your business practices, and you will not like how I do that."

This done, Carver turned and crossed the crowded room back to where the gnome was seated, alongside three others. One was the bearded man that the gnome had been speaking with, while the other two, a muscular looking young man and a very... shapely young woman seemed to be either arguing or flirting. Carver furrowed his brow at the girl. Though looking at her appealed to his baser urges, the higher part of his mind found something undisputably off about her. This was someone who did not know the love of the sun.

He sat down next to them and patted the gnome on the back. "Food on its way, my diminutive friend." Just then, a barmaid set a sizeable bowl of stew in front of the gnome and was quickly off.

He smiled at the others and nodded his head. "A fine day, friends. Hope you have a seat for another."

[Assistant]
Suki smiled as they -or at least te one introduced himself as Separ- had accepted her into their little team of what might appear to be ragtags or misfits. However, while on the outside, she might no show anything out of the ordinary, Se was warring an internal strife against herself.

Why are you associating with strangers? Maybe a bit of company is nice every once in awhile. You don't know who they are. They weren't out for my blood. Kelvin's touch was gentle. There has been similar tricks done, you nearly died twice because of it. ...........

She was pulled from her doubts when she noticed more unfamiliar faces join the table. First and foremost, was the armored man. Why was a paladin here, of all places?! Was she found so soon?!

Panicking slightly, she glanced over at the other newcomers. A rather small person, and...was that woman glowing? For some odd reason, Suki found the other woman reminded her of the night sky.

However, her main problem was still the paladin. Looking around for an excuse to leave, her eyes fell upon the somewhat covered half-elf, sitting in the corner. The opposite corner. "We're still in need of companions, right? I'll go over there and ask." Without waiting for a response, she had already left her table.

Along the way, she casually lifted her hood over her head, the overhang casting the rest of her face in darkness. Stopping as she reached the half-elf, she gestured at one o the empty seats. "May I?"

[User] For the second time that day, he was about to lower his scarf to take a swig of the sweet smelling wine when he was interrupted. Looking up from his melancholia, he stared into the darkness of a hood, for a moment he was about to fall back in his chair from how frightening the dark figure looked but when he observed ir again, he saw that it was a rather curvaceous woman, though she didn't distract him from the object of his brooding and to a lesser extant interest. "thake a seath if'n you wanth." Vis was dropped his scarf only slightly to get a swig of the delicious, purply-red wine, only exposing his mouth as he brought the bottle to his parched lips.

[Assistant]
Suki nodded at the given permission from the half-elf, before sitting down across from him. Watching as he only shifted the scarf slightly to drink, Suki couldn't help but to feel more....at ease. It didn't feel like she was the only one who had secrets, or a reason to hide.

Tilting her head ever so slightly to the left, she couldn't help but to speak. "How many people have commented on your lisp?" As per most people, the first thing that would be a topic started when faced with this half-elf, would be that unusual lisp he had. It sounded almost like something didn't work, or was delayed, with the muscles around his mouth.

At least, that's what that one priest had sounded like when she had slashed at his jaw, before decapitating him. She could be wrong, but nonetheless, it was still different.


[System]
PILOT
Age: 32
Height: 6' 2"
Weight: 95.2kg
Pilot Class: Scanner
Nationality: American (Cascadia)
Appearance: Someone somewhere is missing their assault rifle… (credit to phelandavion)
Bio: Growing up was not an easy thing for Rodriguez. Though he was born to a happy family, there was not a whole lot of money to go around; repeated debts and failed loans only retained enough of a budget to keep him and his folks going with food and a roof over their heads. As the years went by, their finances further declined hopelessly eventually forcing Rodriguez out of guilt of not being able to help his parents with their teetering living expenses to find a job, especially at an early age too.

Despite his parent's best wishes, Rodriguez joined the Cascadian militia personally out of financial necessity right, even when as the States warred with one another. After getting his placement tests, he later found himself in the Cascadia Air Force, rather unexpectedly on that note too and even further so when he realized that he had a knack for flying even though he never gave the concept much thought. Through further testing, Rodriguez was eventually assigned to aerial reconnaissance and patrol duties and wouldn't see active combat until much later hostilities broke out with Lone Star Land. Much of the actual combat he participated in initially comprised of opportunistic ground-attacks against lightly armed and isolated convoys unlucky enough to wind up in his patrol sectors. As fighting grew more fierce, Rodriguez's recon wing would end up operating closer to the front lines, and shortly afterwards, behind enemy lines.

After bringing his record to twelve successful nighttime raiding and information gathering and missions, Rodriguez was then offered a position to help expand Cascadia's electronic warfare technology and implementation in its air force. Interested, he gladly accepted the offer. Three months later, Rodriguez was back in the air, now with an aircraft armed the latest innovative gadgets available. During this time, a small conflict was brewing with Cascadia and one of the neighboring Midwestern warlords. As a live trial for the newly equipped aerial reconnaissance division, Rodriguez and other pilots from the same wing were deployed to discourage would-be raiders from violating Cascadia's airspace. Opening operations were largely successful with only a few instances of a dogfight breaking out while the majority of the encounters lead to those Midwestern intruders forced to withdraw from a possible combat zone after their airplane's instruments supposedly malfunctioned or went haywire for 'inexplicable' reasons.

Though returning to the civilian life was very pleasant after several years of service, Rodriguez grew unsatisfied and yearned to fly once more, even if was not combat oriented. As fate would have it, he would later acquire an old North American XA2J Super Savage had it refitted using the funds gained through his service with the militia. With the aircraft, dubbed Pandora, Rodriguez soon entered into the mercenary business as a freelancer, taking up spying and support contracts that came his way.

Theme Song: Coming Soon

PLANE
Name: North American XA2J Super Savage "Pandora"
Description: To Wikimedia!
Plane Type: Twin-Engine Turboprop
Extra Aircraft Notes: Due to modern upgrades, the aircraft can climb to higher elevations and achieve a much higher maximum speed than its previous un-upgraded airframe. The aircraft's cockpit, constructed to support three crew members has been outfitted with electronic warfare and sensor suite, effectively reducing the crew capacity to just the pilot.
Weapons Descriptions:
-Two forward-facing 20mm cannons
-10,000lb ordinance store (may carry up to six homing missiles, five bombs, or four torpedoes).
Weakness: Very low maneuverability due to large airframe, very ineffective in a dogfight.

[User]
To the point then, Rodriguez thought, noting the pilot's straightforward dialogue while he stared at the monitor displaying the flying wing that was Lungfirst's aircraft being integrated with the rest of the formation. The process of including the Long-Dive into his private data communications network was going off without a hitch. Same as the two other craft around him. The miniature scans updated and applied an IFF to the Long-Dive, allowing Pandora's ECM to recognize friend from foe and differentiate their assets. Typically useful if a hostile missile were to enter get near either of their aircraft while in the large sphere of influence emitted by Rodriguez's plane. With a small ping, he got his confirmation that Long-Dive was now fully integrated.

Rodriguez nearly believed that the formation flight would remain unopposed for at least for a few hours. Turns out he was wrong. Roland apparently was the first to take notice of the activity crawling beneath them. However, his report came almost abruptly and nearly caught Rodriguez off-guard, challenging him to achieve a visual on the vehicles being referred to. Seconds later, he found them as well; an armored convoy. Sensing imminent combat approaching and with the current order to maintain his position, he awakened the ground sensors and cameras at the nose and belly of his aircraft. Soon, visual images poured into one of the other monitors. The convoy belonged to the Lone Star State, as announced by the flags and insignias worn by the vehicles.

"Pandora acknowledges. Maneuvering to attack run; after you, lead," he radioed.

With the attack order given, Rodriguez hit the throttle of his plane, prompting Pandora's airframe to increase in speed before he peeled into dive. Despite its original purpose being overwritten to include a larger number of responsibilities, the plane was still capable of performing its original duty as an attack aircraft. Through his descent, he ensured his kept the Pandora's nose aimed at the grouped vehicles, still performing the necessary scans of his targets until the sensors achieved the lock he was looking for. The HUD integrated into his windshield lit up, revealing a number of vectors originating from the ground beginning to rotate within the center of this obvious circles. The highlighted lines, upon further inspection, represented the calculated traveling paths of the artillery cannons scrambling to take aim at them. As per his efforts earlier, he ensured this information was shared with his squadron mates.

Falling in roughly five-hundred feet behind the Iron Jackson, Pandora prepared to line up its own strafing run, coordinating with the lead aircraft and prepared to engage once Roland peeled away from his completed attack.

[Assistant]
Jimmy Web: The Jonestown Runner

The call was startling, but expected given the landscape. While Jimmy was hoping to get into some dogfighting, a few trucks on the ground would suffice. When Roland went low to get a good look, Jimmy made a note of the other aircraft and their maneuvers. The Scanner was looking to gear up directly for a fight, while the monstrosity behind him appeared to be gaining a higher altitude. Not exactly the most coordinated effort, but Jimmy trusted that the others knew what they were doing. He hoped that courtesy would be shared.

The Runner pushed forward the throttle, gunning forward and making his way over the convoy as fast as possible. His instruments were perfectly fine, and Jimmy was at a high enough altitude to pull off his usual antics. Once some distance in front of the convoy, the Roger Dodger began to pitch towards the ground while rolling right. Jimmy pulled back on the throttle as he was lowering intensely, helping to minimize the turning radius on his 180 degree Wingover before temporarily rising back into the sky. At the last moment, he pitched the craft towards the ground again to perform his run.

By the time Jimmy was in position, Rodriguez had completed his run. It was fairly textbook, and Jimmy was looking to replicate. His two miniguns began to light the ground ablaze with bullets as the Rabbit performed the simple strafing run. Once over the convoy again, Jimmy performed a more simple turn to get back into a relative formation, practically returning to his starting position before gauging his next move and assessing whether he took any hits.

[User]
Roland didn't have a specific attack formation in mind, he just yawed to the left and hit the air-brake, making sure his speed was low enough to get a good long squirt of fire on the trucks. The other 3 had peppered the trucks with at least 5 of them going up in fireballs. Roland himself managed to destroy one and severely damage another, there was little thrill in shooting ground targets but eliminating the Texan war machine made him feel whole. The ground tanks were blazing thier cannons at the 4 planes but because of the high speed and angle of shooting from the ground, the shots were wildly inaccurate apart from a few rounds catching Ryan's wing for almost no damage. After the initial run Roland banked his Iron Jackson into a wide U-Turn to go again right before seeing a blip on his radar.....

BOOOOMSSH

A rocket had just blown up one of the artillery tanks, Roland had to double check that he didn't fire it himself. Only to peer into his window and see 4 flying figures in the distance.

They were all Biplanes, and all fairly quick too, entering the airspace like agile missiles. The crackle of Roland's radio almost mad him jump, they must have had radar jammers, because he didn't notice them until the last minute.

Who are you? And why are you shooting at our bounty? Did the guild send you ahead?

There were Bounty Hunters, Roland didn't know whether to feel relieved or not.
 He had to answer, so he decided to be honest.

They are part of Texan military. I'm a Canadian national. We are cleared for unconditional engagement...but I'm not after any bounty, claim it as your own, we are just passing through.

There was brief silence before another explosion of the 2nd Artillery tank rattled through the air.

Canadian huh? We'll we are from Jersey we have no quarrel with either side of that war. I guess we just go our separate way....hang on, scanning profile complete....you're Roland Shaw?!

Roland cursed hard under his breath, and hit the throttle on his plane and began to climb, he didn't even bother responding to the last message, he instead patched through to his 3 wingmates.

First Encounter

Jimmy, Rod, Ryan, split and prepare for a fight, they seem to have upgraded engines and unguided rockets, be careful team!

Roland Fucking Shaw!? you have a 5 Million Credit Bounty on your head! We are fuckin, rich boys! Try not to tear his plane to absolute shreds, we can probably sell some of it to collectors. We are retiring tonight!

The 4 Biplanes had now all began to split off and look for targets, the fight was on.

[Assistant]
Once he was lined up without friendlies in his path, he squeezed the trigger, letting loose with Pandora's 20mm cannons. Rodriguez could feel each thump of the two cannons vibrating throughout the craft as is screamed though the convoy. Zigging tracers zipped through the air and arched into the scorched earth and artificial metal alike, sending exploding plumes of dirt and spectacles of flaming sparks skyward. While his own attack only lasted mere seconds, Rodriguez caught a glimpse of one of the vehicles within his cone of fire erupting into an inferno just as he quickly pulled up and peeled away.

Rodriguez kept the plane in a stable climb while making the proper adjustments in his flight path, noting the firing vectors from the artillery below still illuminating in his HUD. By now however, the black splotches exploding in the sky became less concentrated, likely due to the gunners' aim being directed to the other craft completing their own attack runs and pulling away from the pummeled convoy. After achieving a safer altitude, Pandora came to a neutral path while Rodriguez peered through the aircraft's canopy and gazed at the smoking mess they had created. At least six of the vehicle they had successfully strafed now stood as burning wrecks, victims of their swift assault.

Just has he steadily angled his craft into another dive, Pandora's long-range radar started going off with new contacts emerging into the screen. Rodriguez aborted and quickly turned to the monitor noting the four blips quickly advancing onto their earlier attack vector. Heading right toward the convoy. In the course of a few seconds, another vehicle exploded due to a rocket that had not come from his craft and neither from any of this other planes his squadron. Instead, it originating from the interloping biplanes.

It didn't take long until the intruder's radioed and demanded the reasoning for their presence here. Rodriguez patiently listened as Roland explained himself and behalf of the planes under his command before ending with an offer to vacate the local airspace. Given the rowdiness of the new group, Rodriguez was in agreement with the notion to avoid getting into further trouble than they were already. All seemed fine until it became apparent that trouble already had Roland's number. Some scanner with the group had ID'd Roland and the surprising bounty on their leader's head. Five million credits, huh? Rodriguez's adoptive mercenary line of thinking piqued with premature interest. With that kind of money, he could be living it big with the most souped up and untouchable aircraft to ever fly over the States. And all he had to do was dive into a pursuit right on top of Roland and...

No, his consciousness quickly stamped out the opportunistic thought for greedy fame. He mentally reiterated the job he had agreed to and he was intent of seeing it through. Phasing out of the millisecond of plotting, Rodriguez refocused his attention to the biplane now shifting their attention to his group. Per Roland's new orders to engage, he maneuvered his craft into a wide observing turn around the attackers, ensuring that he held less than a kilometer distance from the attackers. Having seen the maneuverability of the enemy planes, he knew that he could not compete in a honest dogfight with the more nimbler planes climbing to meet them. Pandora was simply not as agile and his only method of attacking and killing a wily opponent was with an unsuspecting strike above them. Before he could pull that off, he needed to know how the aggressing craft flew. Like before with Ryan's earlier approach, Rodriguez once more fired up his scanning equipment and angled the array to toward the craft.

"Pandora acknowledging," he radioed through the channel, "beginning scan of engaging bandits."


[System]
Nickname: Mr.Svent
Race: Lumyian
Age: ???
Gender:Male

Appearance:
Proportionality:
Weight: Roughly 200lbs.
Height:5'11 to 6ft.
Frame: Androgynous shoulders 6in
Chest 12 in
Waist 8-10in
thigh 10-12in
Butt-cheek 8x10in
wrist to tip of middle finger 7 1/2 inches.
pinkie starting digit (base of hand before extending to finger) to thumb digit 4inch
feet (as in my feet) 12 inches

upper arm (weight )3 inches
lower (forearms) 2 1/2 − 3 inches
wrist 2 1/2 − 3 1/3 inches
elbow to wrist 11 3/4 inches
Shoulder to elbow 12 1/4 inches

heel to knee 15 inches.
Knee to thigh 16 inches.

height 5'11 to 6ft.
6 1/2 inches from collar bone to chin.
7 inches from one end to the other (Left to right)

crotch to waist (curves) 9 inches.
waist to belly button 4 1/2 inches
waist to chest (where ribs start) 12 inches
chest to neck 9 inches
_______________________

Personality:- So far, he seems caring, somewhat analytical, and one prone to improvise. But shows he cares for life even if it isn't his own.
Job: Deputy Director of Linblum Research and Development, as well as Supervisor.

Fighting Style: So far, no one knows.

Weapons from strongest to weakest: No weapons at present.
Armors/Outfits See picture. Custom Kimono, Rubber suit under that, and light armor pieces. (Armored boots, gauntlets that protect the back of his hands, a Panther Helmet.)

Familiar: Ifrit
Familiar Appearance:

Familiar Abilities: Grants fire and heat immunity, Fire Glyph. Lowers water defense. Slightly raises agility.

Movement Type: Ground, walks and runs, has wide reach.

Familiar Size: Large, slightly sluggish when moving.

Relic Weapons: Flaming clawed Gauntlets.

Relic Armors: Gives Cassius a red tint to his attire to reflect his heat immunity, as well as to reflect he has Ifrit active. The gauntlets also extend over the forearms to shield them.

Trance: N/A.

Pros- So far he seems fast in terms of movement, hit's hard with kicks. Sneaky.
Cons- Fearful of fighting.
Racial Strengths- Lumyian Glyph magic. Resistant to offensive magic to a great degree.
Racial Weaknesses- Weak to physical strikes.

Background: So far, people do not know.

[User]
Randy was somewhat more relaxed as everyone else or at least the engineers had made their way out of the cargo area. Which, he would rather not want to stick around too much longer mostly because of the sinking feeling was quite bothersome and worrying. Having waited or thought he had been waiting long enough he moved to follow after the others who were exiting. Still feeling numb in certain areas because of the previous impact against a wall of the cargo area. Being called 'squirrel boy' was not really appreciated. A little irritating, perhaps because it already seemed like a bad day. Seeing as his arms were full and the fact it seemed a bit more dangerous and out of the way to grab something else. The others had already seemed to grab a few loads on their way out. He instead simply went to and pulled himself out of the wreckage as well.

Upon climbing out of the wreckage it seems that a few goblins were ahead, with weapons. Definitely not one the best days around it seems. Not that it seemed like he could do much about it besides watch the chaos unfold in front of him. It seemed someone was off to deal with them for the moment so what did it matter? Randy simply continued on as whomever did combat with the said goblins. He tried to join up with the other engineers. It felt now was a time for pulling out a deck of cards or something while someone sets up a campfire. Neither of which he felt capable of doing.

He would, rather not look back at the sinking scene behind him. It seemed either moving forward or finding others was the best bet or waiting for the others to regroup here would work. Seeing as the goblins were being dealt with and the other engineers had supplies and so on to take care of, waiting here would probably be better if only for a little while.

[Assistant]
Dren managed to walk at least 20 paces before he found a more open area. Figuring he could use it to find an easy way to civilization if he teleported up a tree, he stepped out into the open.

...and he stumbled right upon the terrorists. Or what was left of them anyway. And one of them was waving him over.

"Codswallop..." Dren muttered under his breath. Literally he couldn't have asked for worse luck if he wanted to... well, there wasn't much use in running now, was there? With their numbers they'd probably catch up to him if he tried to flee from them... just when he thought he might be able to save face. He could see the fellow who'd offered him a job amidst them too... well at least he'd survived. The only person here he could put any semblance of trust into. He sighed and began approaching them, cane swishing amidst the grass of the woods.

"Glad to see you survived." he said to the group as he approached. Technically he wasn't lying.

[User]
"Say that again when you meet a dragon while walking!" Wylde replied as she took a few deep breaths and also noticed the goblins. She quickly pulled her rapier from it's sheath and took a fighting stance." Well… it's called Evil Forest for a reason you know, it would have been strange if it was full of things wanting to help us."

 As Karn rushed to kick the goblins, Wylde's muscles tensed for a moment before she too rushed forward with great speed, her rapier pointed directly at the neck of the goblin at the right." I'm just slightly disappointed… goblins are too weak for a real challenge…" Wylde said with a sigh. After that she immediately followed the first attack with a flurry of many more stabs as she wanted to turn the goblin into cheese.

 "But in all seriousness… I've heard there are supposed to be stronger monsters here. We should be careful, considering the people how aren't fighters." She said, throwing a look around. If nothing else, this was going to turn into a good warm up at least.

[Assistant]
Hitori rushed toward Cassius and knelt down to him, examining his injury with his Gem and seeing the Bits of shrapnel embedded into him. He sighed as his large claw-like hands began to glow Green "I can fix you but It's going to hurt a lot. It will hurt worse if it goes untreated and gets infected though so please bare with me." He Touched Cassius' wound and it glowed the same green as his hands.

The Blood was disappearing as Small Emerald Green Vines protruded from Cassius' flesh, each with a pieces of shrapnel wrapped in their tendrils which they tossed to the side. The Vines began to secrete a greenish liquid that dissolved them and began to seal and heal the wound they grew from, knitting flesh and bone back to where they should be. Hitori then touched the ground and a Small Purple Flower bloomed, he plucked it and began grinding it in his palms to produce a paste. He took the Purple-green paste and began to Rub it on the healing wound, "This will help numb the pain." He said to Cassius before his ears perked up at the sound of intruders.

He turned, Snarling and brandishing his Scythe, and Noticed the Goblin troops. Hitori dislike Goblins; they were loud, obnoxious, and they would wreck everything they got their grubby little hands on and then start breeding like Rabbits till the area was full of more of their kind and they would start cannibalizing each other to start the process all over again. Absolutely Disgusting....

With a Burst of Speed Hitori turned his Scythe like a hellish Windmill as he rushed toward the Goblins, cutting down as many as he could. It seemed futile though, for each goblin he slayed another one would just pop out of nowhere and take its place. Hitori was beginning to lose their temper and didn't want to let their more violent natures out like this......but the intoxicating smell of freshly slain. Their Blood must be Sweet and their livers would just go to waste.....Maybe a little taste wouldn't hurt. As he sliced into another Goblin he Reached deep into it and removed a plump liver. His Jaw Distended and he swallowed it whole. His Eyes in that moment seemed to blaze with renewed Vigor as he kept going after more an more Goblins, eager to cut them to bits.

[User]
"You idiot!" Dren shouted at Hitori, seeing him rip the shrapnel out of his 'employers' shoulder. "You take it out that harshly, you'll make the wound bigger!" He shook his head as he knelt before him and did a brief check over the wound. Well the paste stuff would at least cover it, but it was still going to hurt like hell. He frisked a hand inside his cloak and took out a bell shaped bottle and uncorked it, pressing it into the wounded man's hands. "Here, just hold your nose when you drink this. It'll help close up the wound."

With that matter dealt with, Dren became aware of the goblin horde encroaching on them. He could see his supposed ally boring into them but there were a number slipping through the cracks and headed for them. Dren stood and held his cane in one hand, intent to fight. Perhaps just to protect his own life or the life of the man he's just attempted to help... who cared at this point? There was work to be done. He raised his cane up as the three brass stars lit up and the head hummed with magical energy.

"Blizzara." He muttered as his cane struck the ground and a sheet of ice descended upon the goblins, striking many, even freezing some to the spot. Dren kept a defensive position in front of the others, slinging further spells at the encroaching force to keep them back, picking off whatever stragglers didn't get mangled by his... frankly monstrous associate.

[Assistant]
Cassius was happy to see Dren unharmed when he approached. "It is good to see you well. And... Comforting to see you come back." There was a slight smile forming at his lips. "Can you help me... deal with this wound...?"

Before his question could fully get across to Dren, Hitori was on the prowl as he saw the slender being with his abnormally long limbs staring down at him. And to his surprise, he was the first to give him any full on medical treatment... And Cassius screamed out in Pain."A...ah.... Aghhhh!" He twitched his head left and right as he felt the vines invading his shoulder to get the pieces of shrapnel out. Tears were forming from the intense pain... Sure, it was just magic... But why was it being used to be do something so painful...?

"You're strong... There is no greater honor than expression. If you are pained, wear it well, if you're angered, wear it well. Your wrath will be the undoing of those that stand in opposition." Ifrit formed in his mind, there was... a sinister grin... Maybe it was due to the bestial nature of his imagination, maybe that is what limited his expression. But to him, Ifrit felt like a wrathful being... Just what sort of pact was he bound to...?

As the healing procedure was open, he was breathing in and out. There was a type of salve Hitori applied before turning to face an encroaching danger. "It...Was my fault... Wasn't it? If... I was quiet those... THINGS would not be here..." He shook his head as he saw Blank frown down at his pain. He drew his sword as he stayed at his side, lifting him to his feet, Cassius' right arm around Blank's shoulder where Dren handed him a healing potion of a sort. Though the potency was unknown, he decided to take his word and place his trust in his product. He took a breath as he slammed the opening to the cylinder to his lips, raising it to the sky with a tilt of his head. Truth be told... It wasn't the worst flavor in the world... But there were more ideal ones he rather be dealing with.

"Thank you..." Cassius took a breath.
"Don't think them yet, we are not out of the woods..." Blank readied his blade with his right hand as he saw the Goblins prowling around in a primal like fashion, crawling to the ground, throwing all their weight to move forward at Blank. Fortunately for Blank, he knew his way around a sword. Effortlessly, Blank beheaded the said primitive being.

Cassius did take note of Dren's powerful White Frost that crushed a great many Goblins.
"Hey, Ninja, I need you to make a choice, Left, or right... Going straight is completely suicide. And Back is just a wall for us to be trapped..." Blank spoke as he watched the wildlife drawing near.

To the left... Was a more inwards passage through the trees, it seemed almost like a system. Where to the right was just darkness...
Where to Karn's right was a similar set of passage way system based on how the trees were lined up...

"We go left..." Cassius spoke as he felt the effects of the many healing effects stacking up... He picked his helmet up as he somewhat moved on his toes. "Boooys. We are going to the left."

In Karn's position, she handled the battle swiftly, and effectively with the Ex Soldier... But unfortunately for Randy and the Engineers, the Goblins were surrounding them. This would not be good if they didn't act fast...

On the Bridge, there was a recovering Garnet sitting up with Baku...


[System]
Gender: M

Age: 26

Career/Class:Soldier / Ex-Soldier

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

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

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

[User]
"Yes, lets." Amal replied.

It took them an hour or so to make it to the northern gate of the city, arriving just in time for the noonday Caravan to embark. It wasn't the most common thing for two travelers on foot to accompany one of the spice caravans, but it wasn't rare by any stretch either. Amal remembered when he was younger, when the mad Sultan Ibn Alfar had poisoned the water supply to a portion of the city to punish them for their transgressions. He had watched from the walls as hundreds of people had left the city in a great migration, the vultures encircling them before they had even left the horizon line.

They approached as a man with charred skin and a contrasting white beard tossed woven bags onto a cart, working contentedly before it was time to go. He had merely four left to stack on as the trumpet blared from the gate, signalling it was time to embark. Amal knelt down beside the trader, picking up the heavy sacks with more ease than the older man, helping him pack as the first merchants stepped onto the road.

"Thank you, my friend." The trader said, his smile warm from the help. "Is a fine day for travel, yes?"

"Yes yes," Amal agreed. "We were looking to travel with your troupe today. You could bear two more bodies?"

The trader lifted himself up and squinted at Emmaline, her hood covering all but her chin. She was just a cloaked woman with a bag that jingled and clacked as she stood, waiting for him to speak. "Yes, I do not mind..." he said finally. "You and your...?"

"My wife." Amal explained, sliding between them. "She has had a rough night. The sun hurts her eyes."

The man laughed. "She must be a foreign woman," he joked. "The sun never sleeps in Araby."

---

Amal juggled the balls one of the travelers had given him on a dare. So far, even with the cart bumping along the desert road, Amal had kept track with the five. He seemed entirely in a joking mood now that they were out of Lashiek, the city now gone from their sight, disappearing behind the heat haze of the winding path. Amal's smile and bright eyes made him seem far less dangerous than Emmaline would know him to be, and as he finished his trick, each ball fell into his awaiting hand, the hand simultaneously tossing them back to one of the women watching.

Amal and Emmaline shared the wagon with an older man, who looked to be the trader's brother, so alike were they in appearance, and two women, likely his daughter and wife. It was lucky there was room, as there were only a handful of wagons on the road. The rest of the goods were being transported atop Camels, the lumbering beasts bobbing up and down in their strange, two step fashion.

The next day was much the same, though Amal and Emmaline kept to themselves moreso than the previous, as they had begun to ask questions on who they were and why they sought to travel to Copher.

On this day they walked. Thirty miles away from Lashiek, with another seventy to go before they reached Copher.

[Assistant]
They traveled steadily west under the cool evening sky. The heat of the Araybian sun was such that no one traveled by day if they could manage it. As the days passed and Lashiek sank behind them Emmaline gradually felt the tension lift from her. If Emir Omar's heirs were looking for her, she had clearly slipped the city before they were able to organise a search. Perhaps a caravan had simply been too unorthodox a choice to bear watching, or perhaps the heirs were more interested in fighting over their father's inheritance than in tracking down the slave girl who had slain him.

She attracted more than her fair shair of looks from the caravans various denizens. Her pale skin and eyes would have been obvious even if her blond hair did not give her away as a foreigner. At least Amal's assertion that she was his wife kept anyone from getting too curious. The thief had the look of a bad man to cross, especially if you planned on sleeping at any point. She kept her books and equipment in her pack, though she was eager read them, she didn't want to raise any more suspicion than she had too. Wizards were more tolerated in Araby than was the case in the Empire but it wasn't a cultural difference she was keen to explore.

Amal had been vague about his sudden decision to leave Lashiek but his frequent glances over his shoulder told her that he was even more concerned about pursuit than she was. Whatever had happened in the bath house had clearly left him spooked, but she hadn't chosen to press him on the topic. They had talked surprisingly little, pretending to be husband and wife meant that they both, in theory already knew each other and both of their minds were occupied with the possibility of pursuit.

"It is a still night," Emmaline observed, pulling her shawl closely about her as they made their way through a shallow defile. The landscape around them grew craggy as they moved westward, while they were not far from the coast the inland mountains ran down to the sea and to a treacherous series of reefs and shoals beyond. The camels seemed more restive than usual as they picked their way across the broken ground. A sudden scream split the night and a caravan guard toppled to the ground clawing at an arrow in his belly. Another thwacked into the wooden bench on which Emmaline was sitting. A half dozen more arced through the air, one striking a camel which screamed and bolted. The caravan drivers tried to stir their beasts to a sprint but already horseman could be seen riding across the skyline at the far end of the defile.

"AaiiiiIe!" came a great shout and a dozen shabbily dressed bandits leaped from the low scrub and rushed forward,the archers too, having lossed their missiles, burst into view as they rushed down the shallow walls of the defile. Steel rang against steel and sparks flew where scimitars clashed as the caravan guards tried to give battle. Emmaline looked around wildly only to spot more bandits coming down from behind them. One of the bandits leaped onto the wagon. Emmaline managed to shrieked and dodged as his scimitar bit into the timber she had just vacated. She punched at his head but he caught her wrist and grinned at her with hideous blackened teeth as he drew back his blade. The panicked Imperial shrieked a word in the arcane tongue and the bandit shrieked and dropped his sword, his hand was blackened and smoking and his filthy sleeve was on fire. Emmaline snatched up the sword that her spell had momentarily imbued with the heat of its forging, now cool to her hand, and hacked inexpertly at the screaming bandit. The heavy blade bit into the flesh between neck and collarbone with a sound like a cleaver severing a joint of beef. Bright arterial blood sparkled in the moonlight as the bandit tumbled out of the wagon. The blade hung and the unexpected jolt yanked Emmaline off balance. She made a desperate grab for the edge of the wagon but toppled out after the bandit landing on her rear with a thump in the rocky sand.


[System]
ISIDOR LEVIN
Date of Birth: January 5, 1897 (57 years old)
Place of Birth: Odessa, Russian Empire
Occupation: Jeweler, pawnbroker
Affiliation: Levin Gang, subordinate to Hyde Park Gang
Modus Operandi: Protection, illegal gaming, fencing of stolen merchandise

Background/History: Isidor Levin was born into a Jewish family in the Ukrainian port city of Odessa, the only son of a talented and widowed jeweler, Nestor Levin. When the pogroms of 1905 broke out, the elder Levin's store was among those vandalized and looted, while several of their friends and neighbors were killed by the Black Hundreds. Thoroughly fed up with the Russian situation and seeing no future for his son and two daughters in Russia, Nestor Levin was among the many Jews to flee Odessa in 1905, striking out for greener pastures in London.

The eight-year-old Isidor immediately fell in love with London, but it was not as kind to his father. While they did indeed know greater freedom in the new country, the Levin family found their circumstances reduced. Nestor Levin found work exactly where he wanted, in a prestigious Hatton Garden jeweler's shop, but merely as a guard. The pay was adequate but not much more. They were just another immigrant family, not the famous Levins of Odessa. Determined not to let his skill and talent go to waste, Nestor began to pass on the trade to his son Isidor.

He paid close attention to these lessons, but the lad's life took a different turn. Returning from service in the Royal Army Service Corps during the Great War (though he is proud of his service, Isidor is still humble enough to admit that he saw no combat), Isidor noticed a troubling trend in West London. Jewish-owned shops were targeted for harassment and vandalism by other returning Tommies, usually due to the names of the proprietors sounding German to untrained ears. Isidor gathered together a few neighborhood toughs and organized patrols, standing guard outside the shops and turning away anyone with ill intent. Very politely, Isidor requested a small fee for his trouble from the shopowners, citing the difficulty in getting together so many nice young men willing to stick their necks out. The shopkeepers happily paid up, most of them not even realizing that the soft-spoken, polite young Levin boy had just set up a protection racket.

That was the start of the Levin Gang, a few Jews standing in front of delis and bookstores for pocket money. Isidor carefully saved the protection money, investing in a Seven Dials pawnshop in 1921. It was then that his financial prospects really improved. Not only did the pawnshop provide a good stream of legitimate income, it also provided him an excellent opportunity to receive stolen goods and fence them to an interested buyer. Not to mention the spacious basement made a nice private setting for high-stakes games of baccarat and rummy. The money allowed him to do a lot of things- send his sister Rachel to university in Newcastle where she met a husband, send his other sister Zara back to Russia, where she met Communism. It let him buy a nice flat for his father to retire in, donations to charity and local synagogues, a couple more pawnshops, even an old run-down jewelry store.

It also bought the attention of the Adler family. Harry Adler and Levin, both reasonable men, saw the benefits in absorbing the Levin Gang into the Hyde Park set- safety in numbers and increased wealth and resources for both. Levin, unambitious and satisfied with what he was earning, and content with the respect he got from the community, remained on as a permanent lieutenant to the Adlers throughout the years. He serves as both an adviser and something of an honorary uncle to the Adlers, many of whom he watched grow up.

[User]
Cold might be too harsh of a word, but the way Mr. Flowers looked at Mr. Levin was certainly not warmly. Her pretty lashes flickered between the two and she brought her hand up to take another drag on her jig. It was almost done.

"You do?" She confirmed brightly, smiling and finding the right thing to say. "Mr. Levin makes the most beautiful jewelry I must say…" She brought her hand clutching the withering jig and painted harlot red finger nails up to showcase the diamond pendant resting just above her cleavage. "Don't you agree Mr. Flowers?" Her grey blue eyes dared to look up at his for a moment longer before fluttering away demurely.

A smile toyed in the corner of her red lips.

"I think…" She snubbed out the remains of her own cigarette in the ash tray on the bar, and reached forward to take one of the offered specialty blends from Mr. Levin's offered hand. "That Mr. Flowers only smokes cigars…" Harlot red nails pulled out single jig before fumbling for her purse. "But if you don't mind Mr. Levin I will happily take this opportunity..." Half way through this act she recalled that she still didn't have any matches nor a lighter. A look of despair moved over her classic features before she realized she was standing with two smokers.

"Mr. Flowers?" She asked, showing the jig that needed to be lit. He nodded.

Grey eyes drifted up to Mr. Flowers as she placed the cigarette between her lips.

Leaning in carefully (so that her head was bent to the light) she kept the jig in place between her index and middle finger of her left hand while her right cupped the offered flame. Inhaling she looked up coyly through her lashes at Mr. Flowers. Chasity felt a smile trying to work its way across her face before settling back and exhaling.

"Very kind of you…" She murmured, her voice barely audible above the music. Mr. Flowers wasn't really the type to go to social shin digs, at least not the ones Chasity attended. Or more accurately, she rarely saw him at these events. He was a businessman like her brothers, and around their age as well, but she had never thought of him as stuffy or over showy like the Adler Boys could be. But he wasn't someone she could be casually comfortable around like she was with Mr. Levin.

No… Chasity thought as she rested her hand against the bar top, her free one reaching for her drink. They were different kinds of men entirely. Pressing her red (harlot red) lips together so that they formed a perfect O she blew another cloud of smoke out before having a sip of her drink.

"Mr. Levin, this is a nice blend… Were you only teasing when you said you'd give me the name of this batch?" Miss Adler noticed that Mr. Levin had switched over to a stronger drink. Odd. Perhaps he had gotten tired of the fruit? "Of course…"She lowered her voice conspiratorially "We can't tell my brothers, but what they don't know won't kill them right?" That was probably not true. At all. But Chasity Smoking was probably the least of the Adler's concerns.

They were still at their own table arguing and drinking, a few ladies had joined them and Chasity thought it was likely they wouldn't miss her for a while longer.

[Assistant]
Not to his surprise, but at least to his pleasure, Levin made the first move. "May I offer you a cigarette, Flowers?" Flowers. Tom felt like kissing the Jew for providing him with an adequate way of addressing him. Impersonal but personal at the same time. Not offensive, not pleasant, and not inherently disrespectful - that was most important.

However, before Tom could answer the jeweller, Chasity did it for him. "I think," she said, "that Mr. Flowers only smokes cigars." He didn't respond to Chasity's question about Levin's jewellery. Truth is he did like the Jew's work, but preferred to get it from the Russian in Bethnal Green; Ludmil. The prices were roughly 80% cheaper than in-store, but that was likely because he was a jewel thief - the best in Western Europe, in fact - and had, on occasion, lifted some of Levin's pieces. Those were Tom's favourite in truth. He had a number of rings that came from Levin's hands but did not often wear them in the West End. Too many questions to ask, too many names to drop.

"She's right," said Tom, "but it would be poor form if I said no." He gave a light nod in appreciation and took a cigarette from Levin's case. He placed it between his lips and took out a match book from his breast pocket, struck one of the matches, and lit Chasity's cigarette. He did little more than grunt and nod to answer Chasity's smile before bringing the flame to his own cigarette.

After he put the match out, he turned to see Ashley approaching him with a handsome young man. Of the twins, Reggie was easily the more agreeable. He considered continuing the conversation with Levin and Chasity but they'd started off on their own topic, and it would be rude to turn away one of the infamous Krays. Even in the infancy of their criminal careers, they were known throughout the West End.

"Mr. Flowers," started Reggie, "good to see you again."
Tom's face remained unchanged. "Aye, it is." He nodded. "Done boxing, then?"
Reggie shrugged with a cheeky grin, "don't pay like you."
Tom winked at Reggie and looked at Ashley. "Where's the other one?"
"Fuckin' about with my cousin," Ashley replies with a nod to the stairs, "in the lounge."
Tom grunts and looks back at Reggie. "Got 'im under wraps, have ya?"
Reggie laughs, "Does anyone?"
Tom nods. "Right. Well, get a drink and fuck off, then."
The young Kray nods and heads to the other side of the bar, leaving Tom and Ashley. The chauffeur leans into Tom's side and says quietly, but somehow audibly to the pair at their side, "Yardie's 'round back."

Yardie. Fuckin' Yardie. The Jamaican immigrant, Frayne's pitbull, the Shade of Shaftesbury, thought Tom, and my mate from the bin. Fuckin' Yardie. Fuckin' DeShawn Crawford. Lord knows why he works for me and Mase when Solomon Aldridge - that fuckin' "black rights activist"-- more like a glorified fucking gangster - is just an hour's drive south. Kykes with kykes, blacks with blacks, all that race-bound loyalty bullshit. He didn't buy into it, really. He didn't hate the Jews because they were Jews, he hated the Jews because they cornered a profitable racket. He hated the blacks because they were romanticized terrorists. He hated everyone else because he was a miserable cunt.

Tom nodded and flicked his chin towards the door. "Tell 'em I'll be a minute. Bring 'em a gin."

Ashley slapped Tom's shoulder and left the hotel with a bottle of Tanqueray Dry Gin.

Tom turned to Chasity as he watched Henry Adler storming over in a huff. A kyke, he thought and now a muppet.


[System]
Rank: Cadet
Allegiance: Federated Suns
Planetary Origin: Kestrel
MOS: Mechwarrior

Synopsis of Role: A fourth year student at the New Avalon Institute of Science, Johan is a small, meek, and often seen as weak student. He's often getting bullied and ridiculed by the other cadets at the NAIS, despite the fact that he's survived three years at the intense academy already. A point that they often bring up is Johans family, his father, a former mercenary married into a minor noble family. Because of that the more conceited cadets of noble lineage see him not as a true noble, but instead a bastard.

Despite the constant harassment Johan shows a surprising amount of resilience, in a battlemech he can withstand more heat than most of the others in his year, he fights longer, harder, and his aim in a 'mech is killer. Many of the instructors say to him that if he could improve his battlemech movement, he could easily become an ace with his accuracy. In simulated combat between Cadet groups, Johan often racks up quite the kill count, staying back and supporting his more courageous teammates, and picking off the more courageous on the opposing side. This usually gets him some peace and quiet for about a week.

Battlemech: The Rifleman RFL-5D.
A brand new variant of an ancient mech. Introduced this year, the 60t RFL-5D is an upgraded version of the RFL-4D, which was introduced nearly 30 years ago. Where the RFL-4D suffered from severe heat problems and a reduced loadout, the RFL-5D actually increases the weapon loadout to two ERPPCs and two Magna Mk.III Large Lasers in the arms, and returns the two Magna Mk.II Medium Lasers to the side torsos. To free up more tonnage, an XL240 Engine was installed and to manage the heat, Double Heat Sinks were included. The new variant also increases the armor to nine tons.

When Johan was presented with the brand new RFL-5D variant for the opportunity to test the battlemech, he nearly burst out into tears of joy. The instructor noted that the mech was suited to Johans strengths, the two ERPPCs and two Large Lasers allows Johan to capitalize on his skill in aiming, while the two medium lasers leaves him not entirely defenseless in close quarters.
Since the mech variant is brand new, Johan hasn't modified anything internally, externally he has painted the his fathers old mercenary symbol onto the right kneepad, a white circle with a chevron pointing upwards.

Height:
Weight:
Appearance:
Callsign:
Father:

[User]
Lyris Von Wulfhart

---

---

The monotony of patrol was suddenly shattered with the simple sentence, "we have contacts to our west in the vicinity of the sensor net station." At first, Lyris was dumbstruck, almost not believing what she heard over comms. Her hesitation lasted only a moment before years of training kicked in in place of conscious thought. She responded with a quick, "orders understood." Before activating her jump jets, superheating the air behind her Griffin to propel it from her current perch of a flatback plateau to a rocky outcropping of uneven terrain. Nausea born of uncertainty strangled her guts as it welled up in her stomach as if her intestines were tying itself into knots. Her nerves are making a simple jump bring a bout of sickness she had not felt since her first year at the academy adjusting to this very same maneuver.

A shaky landing met her as she attempted to steady her breathing before she carefully ascended the steep ground. The mighty footfalls of her steed crushing stones large and small underfoot without pause as she pushed toward her designated nav point. In moments she might be facing her first bit of real combat she thought. Her heart thumped and threatened to shake her focus, but with an effort of will, the young warrioress held steady. Ingrained training kicked in, and she began final pre-battle checks, floods of information flowing through her neural implant as she dived into her BattleMechs systems.

Symbols scrolled across her neurohelments visor, and her vision expanded to take in everything that the Mech's external sensor arrays could pick up. To an untrained mind, it would have been violently overwhelming experience, a merging of man and machine, and a maddening mechanical violation. Which to an individual unused to their mech it could easily cause severe headaches or worse- brain damage. For Lyris, it was a sort of ascension. Adrenaline surged, then focused to a brilliant point. Nausea fled, along with the feeling of the harnesses and straps that encased her to her seat. Soon she crested the hill and saw the dropship for herself.

The vessel was ramshackle and seemed to be in poor repair even from here, but it was still too far away to discern armaments or exact model type. However, from the state of the ship alone, she would hazard a guess that it was indeed likely to be periphery trash of some sort. What could they be thinking? Nevermind that they came to a world as well guarded like Steelton, to begin with, but why had they decided to land here so near a comm station relay of all places?

Over her Mech's head fluttered flights of recon drones. Released from the rearguards carriers together the drones would form a low-altitude sensor-web that would significantly enhance the sensory acuity of the Mechs below. Meanwhile, Lyris kept her eyes on the massive sphere of steel and iron. Waiting for further instruction until a thought suddenly occurred to her. Lyris quickly flipped a switch activating her comms, "Captain will we be sending an advance warning and demand their immediate surrender?"

---

---

[Assistant]
"Sir," Brauer said, "one of our boys just saw laser fire."

"Confirmed," Miles said a moment afterward. "The drone carrier has just reported the loss of one of its drones near the treeline just after it began to transmit sensor readings. The data is being recovered now."

Mazigh took a deep breath, then looked to Brauer. "Inform Hart that we just lost a drone to enemy fire and are looking over the data now."

The First Lieutenant peered over Miles' shoulder, waiting for the sensors data to come in. It took a couple moments longer than Mazigh would've wanted, but when it did it provided enough information to go on. The first bit of information was recorded visually: a small, squat, stubby-legged mech turning and taking out the drone in one clean shot of its small laser... and behind it was a Harasser, a vehicle whose form Mazigh had always found distinctive thanks to the tail fin in the back. It was a nasty hovercraft to say the least. His eyes returned back to the mech and its unusually large gun...

"Definitely pirates," he muttered as he saw one of the decals on its armor: a snake wrapped around a sword. He didn't recognize the other one - it was some sort of ill-conceived pin-up girl decal - but he assumed it was either a personal one or the lance's symbol.

"Electromagnetic sensors indicated the presence of another vehicle identical to the one in the recording," Miles said.

Mazigh turned back to his own station and took a quick breath. "HQ to all units," he began in his stern and deep voice, transmitting the message to both the recon lance and the hovercraft. "Be advised. Hostiles identified near the treeline, probably from the Oberon Confederation - pirates. They've got one Urbanmech with a small laser and an AC 20, and there are at least two Harasser hovercraft seismic didn't pick up. They pack SRM 6's and can move faster than anything we have. Keep your distance from the treeline if you can, and blast those Harassers before they get too close.

"And there are still more unidentified hostiles," Mazigh added. "I repeat: there are still more hostiles."


[System]
Hero Name:
Age: 15
Class: 1-A

Quirk: Hothead - This Quirk allows the user to heat up their body to the point of being hot enough to burn people with a touch.

Akeno is able to raise her internal temperature, increasing the heat produced by her body so that their skin grows hotter and hotter, to the point that making contact with her is painful. Currently this Quirk can increase her temperature to the point that touching her feels like touching a cast iron radiator that has been on for too long, or sticking your hand under a hot tap; scalding and liable to give a minor burn after several seconds.

The downside of this Quirk is that it can leave Akeno feeling lightheaded as they overheat, even causing them to pass out if she uses it for too long. As of right now she is unable to control her Quirk too well, unable to regulate her temperature or limit its usage to a specific part of her body, so it's all or nothing for the moment.

Strengths:
- Close combat: Akeno has spent more than half of her life learning karate and has also spent the last two years learning grappling techniques. While she doesn't yet have her blackbelt she is more than confident in her ability to fight.
- Athletic: Being tall, fit and having led a very active lifestyle means that Akeno is in better physical condition than most of her peers. More than that however is the fact that she seems to have a natural talent for most physical endeavours; she picks up on things quickly and has good control over her body.
- Dedication: Akeno has a drive to succeed and a willingness to put in as much hard work as possible to reach her goal. They say that it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert in something and Akeno is the type to put in that time without complaint.

Weaknesses:
- Long-rang combat: Both her Quirk and her fighting abilities are short range, leaving Akeno with no ability to defend herself from long-ranged attack nor retaliate against opponents at a distance. Her only option is to try and close that gap any way she can.
- Underdeveloped Quirk: Akeno has spent very little time using or strengthening her Quirk, relying more on her martial arts abilities to deal with situations, meaning that her Quirk is weak and underdeveloped compared to most other aspiring heroes. She will have a lot of ground to make up in this area.
- Inexperience: While Akeno is an experienced fighter, most of her opponents have been other karate practitioners who weren't using Quirks during their matches. As such she doesn't have much experience fighting opponents using other fighting styles, not opponents using Quirks. While she is a quick learner, it will likely take some time for her to get used to opponents with abilities that are new or strange to her.

Personality: The first impression people would have of Akeno would probably be one of composure and quiet focus, though this would depend on the context of that first meeting. She is above all a hard-working, dedicated individual, one who pushes herself to excel; she can come across as a little intense as a result, but is also friendly and sociable to whoever she meets.

Her drive to succeed means that Akeno always pushes herself to do more, to do better. She expects a lot from herself, sometimes more than she can actually give, and at the same time always sees herself as not achieving as much as she should. She's harsh on herself, always beating herself up for mistakes and trying to nit-pick or undersell her victories; loses are hard for her but she's used to them, and while wins are nice they are no reason to stop progressing. It's fair to say that Akeno undervalues herself and that she has a self-deprecating view of herself.

Akeno has a competitive streak, insomuch as she doesn't like to lose and compares her achievements to those of others. She doesn't like being outdone by someone, but she never takes it out on the person in question, instead she will only tell herself to set that person's achievement as her new goal and pursue it.

She is generally supportive of others however; although she can be tough on herself she won't allow others to be tough on themselves, instead pushing others to believe in themselves and to keep moving forward. She is not one to coddle people however; it is important, in her opinion, to maintain a firm knowledge of one's own strengths and limitations so that one might know how best to improve themselves. Harsh truths mixed with genuine compliments are her usual response when asked for her opinion on someone and she's not someone who ever learned to hold back; she's exactly as truthful as she would want someone to be with her if she was doing something wrong or needed to improve on something, which can be a little but much for some people.

Akeno is a sociable person, one who enjoys the company of others but who also values time to herself and doesn't mind being alone. She's not exactly outgoing but also doesn't shy away from social situations, she doesn't seek the limelight nor is she particularly bothered by it. She maintains a calm, relaxed façade most of the time, her reactions subdued which can make it hard to tell how strongly she feels something even if her exact emotion is easy to decipher; in other words she smiles when she is happy but not broadly, she frowns whether she is annoyed or furious and is only a little quieter than normal when upset.

History/Bio: Akeno is tall. She is very tall. A height of 5' 10" might not seem that impressive to some people, but when you're 5' 8" at the age of 13 and are significantly taller than everyone in your class except your teacher, it kind of becomes part of your identity. Along with her height Akeno has always been somewhat gifted athletically, finding it easy to maintain a slim build and having good control over her body; volleyball, basketball, even soccer all came fairly naturally to her and even though she wasn't as skilled as someone who trained regularly she could make up for some of that with her natural talent and physique.

As a child Akeno was always very active, always playing sports with the boys rather than hanging out with other girls and always trying to keep up with her older brother. She loved swimming especially and the family would often visit the swimming pool in the local gym so she and her brother could swim. When she was 6 her father signed her up for karate lessons after she watched a few too many martial arts movies and expressed an interest, which in Akeno's case means she wouldn't stop talking about it until they agreed to let her try it.

It was about a year after this that Akeno first expressed an interest in becoming a hero, although she can't remember exactly what it was that sparked this interest it soon consumed her life. Her karate lessons now became her hero training, she spent hours coming up with costume ideas or hero names and she was always pestering her brother to play heroes and villains with her. While most children went through a phase like this, with Akeno it stuck. As she grew up she began to take it more seriously, asking to switch dojo's to one with a more serious instructor, pushing for more training, looking into hero schools and development programs and so on. The one thing she didn't do was practice her Quirk, for some reason.

Once she started attending middle school and she hit her growth spurt it wasn't long before most of the sports clubs in her school were scouting her out for membership. It was fun for her to be so popular at first and she went along with it, trying out the various club activities while not committing to any one in particular and trying to find one that really caught her interest, even though at this point she was still taking her karate lessons and likely wouldn't have any extra time for a club anyway.

That changed when she found the wrestling club. By this point she'd been taking karate for years and although she enjoyed it, she wasn't sure how long she wanted to pursue it once she became a hero. Wrestling was a change of pace, a new way to test herself and a whole new set of challenges to overcome; besides, with the way her Quirk worked grappling was probably a more useful fighting style than just karate on its own anyway. She was a member of the team for the last two years of middle school before joining UA, while still attending karate lessons on the side when possible.

[User]
As they all started walking into the school, Kisa trailing behind slightly as she listened to Lizzy mention a dragon. There wasn't actually a dragon around was there? The though alone made Kisa nervous, though she was sure it was just an interesting quirk. All would be revealed in time, she supposed. As the entered the classroom however, Kisa's eyes widened to the size of saucers. Sitting in the room, was a giant dragon. An actual bonefied living and breathing dragon, with wings.

"Holy crap! It's an actual dragon! I thought you were just joking but you were actually serious about the dragon," Kisa said in a hurried, nervous voice as she moved to sit in a desk directly to Lizzy's left at the front of the classroom. She wondered who their teacher would be, seeing a name but not knowing just whose name that was. She was sure it was some famous hero, as that was usually known to be the case with the teachers at UA. Kisa silently pleaded for Midnight, but she knew that wouldn't be the case. She couldn't get that lucky, it wouldn't be possible.

So as Kisa sat there, mentally overthinking every possible scenario for how their first day would play out, she didn't noticed much as the fellow students began talking around her. She wasn't known to be overtly social, though she was hyper and nervous by nature, she wasn't very good at initiating conversation. Kisa was very much a background type of person, which didn't clash well with wanting to be a pro hero. Pro heroes were always in the spotlight, as much as Kisa hated the spotlight. She knew it was something she was going to have to get used to, especially if she wanted to be half as successful as Midnight was.

As one of the students boasted about being able to breathe fire, Kisa found herself smiling. She was going to be in for a wild adventure now that she had been accepted to UA and she honestly couldn't wait for it. She could do with an adventure, her life had been much too normal and boring for someone living in a world made up of heroes and villains. Kisa knew that her new path would provide a much different life to her old one, a welcome change as Kisa knew that she might not have the courage for what she was trying to do, but UA could help her get some.

[Assistant]
When the bell rang for homeroom, Kyou let out a breath and entered the room. It was his first homeroom class in UA, one of many firsts that would soon be coming, but he had some hope for an uneventful semester, at least. Scanning from the profiles compiled of the students during their entrance exams, it didn't look like any of them were innately troublemakers. That was good. He was never comfortable with disciplining kids, especially when their crimes were rooted in immaturity and enthusiasm.

He had dressed well for the day, a dark suit tailor-made for his wide and stocky build and a beige trenchcoat to drape over his otherwise intimidating form. The dark fedora, his wife's choice, was almost comical on his large, boxy head, but it gave him something to set to the side, something to buy a few more seconds with before he faced them properly. In the light of the spring sun, his rust-red scales shone dully, and his thick tail swept across the clean floors. The dragon-boy, Kaze Rin, looked asleep already. It was an early morning, and it was an uncharacteristically warm day.

Kyou sucked in a breath.

"Good morning, Class 1-A, and allow me to extended a belated congratulations for your acceptance into UA and," his smile was wry and full of teeth, "for making it to class on time." A pause. Saw a couple smiles in the room. "My name is Kyou Suika, your homeroom teacher for this year and, if this is indeed the path you are set on, for all your years in UA. Heroism is founded upon strength, of body, mind and spirit, and, like the building around you, I expect you all to polish yourselves daily, to become a better person that you were the day before. Your past dictates your future, but your present dictates your past. Some of you may feel like you already have all you need to become a hero. Some of you may feel as if you've started too late, that you do not truly deserve to be here. But it matters not."

The red eyes of a tyrant king gazed upon all of them, as if capturing their gazes individually, rather than as a collective.

"You've all made it, because the professional heroes within this school had seen a spark inside. A spark that aspires to become more than what you are. So don't stop working. Don't stop thinking. Let that set you aflame. Let your courage roar."

For a moment, he was all intensity, all ferocity, a predator staring down challengers, his rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth splitting to speak his next words.

"Now, who wants to declare their goals first?"

And then, all that pressure was gone, a sharp-toothed grin breaking out as he beamed at them all.