[System]
Age:
32

Height:
5'6"

Weight:
145.3lbs

Previous Occupation:
Medical School Student

Likes:
-Swimming
-Reading
-Helping people
-Animals
-Cooking

Dislikes:
-Feeling useless
-Being patronized
-Being lied to
-Bugs
-Getting lost

Fears:
-Betrayal
-Bugs
-Abandoned

Personality:
Stubborn and ambitious, Kyra is willing to put up with anything to get the job done. She's blunt, harshly so, and won't hesitate to spill the truth even if it means someone will get hurt. More of a doer than a talker, she'd rather jump into whatever task she's on rather than plan it out. Because of this, she can come off as impulsive and hotheaded. Kyra's pride is her downfall, often times getting in the way of what needs to be done. Despite this, she's slowly learning to swallow her hubris and open her mind to the views of others.

Though seemingly aloof, Kyra is actually very caring. She's more concerned about the wellbeing of those around her rather than her own, and will sacrifice much of what she has in order to help another. She's hardworking to a fault and will strive to protect those around her. Despite Kyra seeming serious, she's been known to have a snarky side, layering her words with sarcasm.

History:
Kyra was born in a small town in Nevada to a somewhat poor family of five. Despite their lack of finances, she had a fairly happy childhood. She'd often venture around the neighborhood with her siblings, messing around and sometimes causing trouble, while simultaneously helping out in the family store.
Things grew harder as the business closed down. Kyra and her siblings worked multiple jobs at once to help pay the bills, while her parents argued more and more frequently. With lowering grades in school and the constantly looming threat of bankruptcy, life seemed like utter chaos.

Despite this, however, Kyra found solace. In her few moments of free time, Kyra frequently visited the local children's hospital as a volunteer. She'd help out the nurses and children, eventually becoming somewhat of a regular. It was during those times Kyra knew what she wanted to do.

Eventually, Kyra began to get her life back together. Her grades gradually improved until she was at the top of her class. She studied frequently, working hard towards her aim. She soon graduated Highschool and, eventually, college. She had gotten accepted into a well known medical school in Australia. Her family was closer than it had been before. Everything was finally falling into place.

Kyra booked a plane to Austrailia, flying with her sister towards a brighter future. She would attend medical school and become a renowned doctor, helping not only her family but hundreds of patients along the way. Or so she thought.

But Fate, it seemed, had other plans.

[User]
Kyra Martinez

Fire. She remembered fire. Warped tendrils clawing at the wings of a metal bird. The dancing fingers a hellish myriad of red heat.

And smoke. She remembered the smoke. The clouds of grey choking the air as she had desperately grasped for the dangling piece of plastic hope. False, false hope. The smoke in her hair and eyes and lungs, burrowing deeper til it was as thick and real as the black tangle of fear deep beneath. So much smoke.

And then she remembered. Her. Her, who's face was so full of light and life. Her, who was so familiar and immortal in the mind of one so young and hopeful. Her, with a face twisted with tears and fear of the chaos around them. Her with a face of dancing fire and smoke.

The Big Island
11:05 p.m.

Kyra woke with rocks in her limbs and needles in her throat. A dull ache throbbed beneath her skull, a painful beat on a soundless drum. Her mind was mess of strewn thoughts and scattered memories, all tangled and cut apart like the tatters of a forgotten quilt. Fire. Smoke. Darkness. Different fabrics sewn in a nonsensical order.

Exhaustion whispered for her to return to the nettles of sleep. Necessity demanded Kyra rise and act. In the end, it was the latter who won. With a gasp of pain, Kyra forced herself to sit up. The dull pounding in her skull grew into a raging throb. It spread throughout her body, settling in the insides of her chest. It was as if her bones were knives, slashing at the fleshy prison of her skin. The world spun around her, and a bile rose up in Kyra's throat. She shut her eyes, giving into the upheavals of her stomach. She deposited the remains of her last meal, involuntary tears springing from her eyes. The nonsensical ramblings of her thoughts returned, brought on by the delirious sensation of pain. Was this what dying felt like? No. It couldn't be. Dying was peaceful. This was hell.

With a shaky breath, Kyra forced herself to stand. She swayed, the sharp pain in her chest growing. Everything was hurting. Everything felt wrong. But she had to keep moving. She had to find water. She had to find people. People like her. Kyra trembled, her resolve wavering. Her. Her sister. Oh God, her sister. The beach was empty. The white dunes were bare, save for the scattered debris of twisted, black metal. No live other life than Kyra. She bit back a sob. Where was she? Where was Josefine?! She had to be alive. She couldn't be far. She couldn't...she can't...there was no way...

Kyra swallowed her growing hopelessness. Josefine had to be alive. There had to be more survivors. It couldn't have been just her. Now it was just a matter of finding them and surviving.
6:23 a.m.
Once, when she was eight, Kyra had stayed with a distant relative during Summer. An uncle, perhaps, or maybe a cousin? She never quite knew. He had been a drill Sargent. Retired due to his age, but it seemed like the spirit of the job never left him. He was kind enough, save for his short temper, but the moments he chose to discipline Kyra were the worst moments of her life. She had once made the mistake of talking back. The result was two hours of nonstop running around the house. No walking, no water, no breaks. Only the merciless heat of the red sun, and the sweat running together with the tears as her dry throat gasped for air to fill her shriveling lungs.

It was like that now, only tenfold worse. It was hard to say how long she's been walking. An hour? Five? A whole year? Kyra pressed herself to keep moving. The pain in her chest had grown into a throbbing, dull ache. Her mind spun even more, strained from the lack of water or rest. Her shoes, a pair of heels, had long been abandoned for the sensibility of bare feet. The results remained constant throughout her walk. No life. Just the plain stretch of sand, water, and jungle. Kyra wobbled, the unspoken fears wrestling with sensibility in her mind. What if she was alone? What if everyone was dead? What if? What if? What if?

A sudden noise pierced through the air, cutting through Kyra's train of thoughts. It was too deep for a seabird, too brief to be the wind. It was almost as if it was...
Kyra froze as the shout came again. Human. It was human. An actual human being. She forced her legs to run faster, ignoring the growing blisters on her soles. "H-hey!" Her voice was low and scratchy, strained in her throat. "Hey!" She was louder this time, a frantic desperate hope fueling her calls as she caught sight of an approaching figure in the distance. "I'm over here!"

[Assistant]
---

Bailey Renee Sinclaire
11:45 PM, The Big Island

---

A hangover would have been considered a blessing in exchange for the pressure that pounded in Bailey's head at that moment. Her eyelids felt heavy as the light of the moon lit up the sky, shining on her slightly bruised face and body to match. A sudden motion brought Bailey from her back up to her knees as the burst of vomit escaped her lips into the sand below her. At least the pressure was now gone. "Ugh.." the sound of distaste hung on her lips as she passed out right next to her vomit.

Classy. Super classy.

---

Bailey Renee Sinclaire
8:00 AM, The Big Island

---

Coming to, the sun bright and hot in the sky Bailey opened her eyes slowly and recalled the events that had really taken place. The plane had went down, she had survived. A pang of remorse hit her as she imagined all the people who had died on impact or worse taken by the wrath of the ocean. She sat up slowly, looking around at the area around her. If it were different circumstances she would have found this place beautiful, a vacation in it's own right. However, the circumstances weren't right and all she could do was feel trapped. She didn't know what to do next, her hands falling down to her side she leaned back a bit, placing her right hand directly into the pile of semi dried vomit.

Classy. Super classy.

"Oh.. fuck me." Bailey cursed to herself as she got up and began to walk towards the ocean. Her limbs felt like jelly as she stumbled through the sand. A lot of her body was in pain, and in some places she didn't even know existed. Squatting down she waved her hand in the water gently, feeling somewhat refreshed. Getting back up to her upright position she placed her now cleaned hand on her forehead as a reliever. Turning her hand to it's side to create a visor she peered across inward to the island noticing some movement. Survivors, or did they pose a threat? Perhaps Bailey had watched way too many horror movies in her time as she stood idle waiting to see what the mysterious figure did next.

[User]
Benson O'Hara
7:46 AM, The Big Island

It'd been a while, Benson could tell that. He called, and he called again, and yet he had not received a reply. His voice had grown hoarse, the morning sun had creeped higher into the sky and was staring down on him condescendingly. Whatever was keeping him going had faded, and a pain in his right leg had made itself obvious since he started down the beach. He took another breath, clenched his diaphragm, and shouted: "Hey!"

There was a brief silence. Somehow, Benson felt, that if no one replied, it'd be the end of him. He hoped with all of his hope.

"I'm over here!" @Fubsy

He whirled around and saw a woman sprinting towards him.

"Son of a bitch!" He jogged towards the other survivor and stopped in front of her. He tried to think of something to say. Honestly, nothing really seemed appropriate. He was so relieved that whatever happened next, there was at least one other human being here with him.

What he ended up doing was shrugging his arms out wide, and letting his hands slap back down against his thighs. A gesture of indecision and gratitude.

[Assistant]
Jaxon Nyle Romero

8:07 AM, The Big Island

Jaxon's throat was dry and he needed water, but as far as he could see there was no fresh water, so he continued walking towards the figure lying in the sand ahead. As he neared the figure he approached ever more slowly. As he neared he could see it was a girl. His hand gripped the stick tighter as he sat behind a nearby rock. His free shaking hand picked up a small pebble and tossed it at the woman in the sand. He cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Are you from the plane crash as well?" He tried peeking from behind the rock, seeing if he recognized the woman, but he didn't. He tried to remember the events that took place before he first woke up, but most of it was blurry and he couldn't make anyone's face out. His hand was sweating now and he tried to peek out from behind the rock once more. He shifted his position behind the rock to see if he could get a better angle at which to look at but it was futile, he still couldn't recognize her face, her clothing, her skin color, nothing. He took his position back behind the rock and waited for a response. He could feel his heart pounding more violently in his chest.

This could be another survivor.

[User]
Nona Wembley
The Big Island

Nona thought she heard a slight movement across the sand but shrugged it off as a seagull trying to find a tasty snack. It was probably what she should be doing,not the food part but the scavenging for sure. She was about ready to leave when she heard something plop into the sand next to her. Her eyes slowly opened before she slowly pushed up on her elbows and forced herself to grit her teeth so as to ignore the pain in her shoulder as she did. She leaned to the side slightly to pick up the object that was buried a bit into the sand. She was about to play with the small pebble between her fingers until she heard a throat clearing. Nona felt a flood of relief just a moment before stiffening, her heart racing as she swiftly sat up the rest of the way glance around and find who was near her.

She was hopeful that it was another survivor but at the same time, they didn't come up and directly talk to her either. It felt completely stupid to be thinking of one of those old island survival movies at a time like this since Nona highly doubted native cannibals were lurking about but she was only human after all and her mind was getting away from her in that short time it took for the other person in the area to speak.
"Are you from the plane crash as well?

Nona couldn't help the small smirk that appeared on her features before she replied with a tease,"Well I'm no native, that is for sure."
That being said, she carefully stood and tried to get her barrings as a wave of dizziness hit her but she was determined to stay up right."You aren't going to stay hidden behind that rock all day, are you? I promise I don't bite and to be honest...feels a little...weird chatting to someone I can't even see."

[Assistant]
Kyra MartinezThe Big Island

---

---

Kyra slowed as she reached the man, her breath coming out in short, ragged gasps. The sun's rays seemed to have doubled their effort until the sand was a stovetop that steered into the soles of her bare feet. Her lungs and legs burned, and the pain in her chest seemed to double with every effort to breathe. Despite this, cool relief flooded through her at the thought of not being alone.

"Holy..." Kyra trailed off, both from loss of breath and sheer astonishment. She took in the man's haggard appearance and for a brief moment, a flash of vanity invaded her mind. Was that how she looked? It wouldn't have surprised her, looking like a mess with her bare feet and tangled her. Her appearance probably matched how she felt--like complete, utter shit.

"Is there," she paused to catch her breath. Her eyes flitted over the man's shoulder, eyeing the empty beach as if more people would pop up from the bare sand. "Is it just you? Are there any other survivors?"


[System]
Nickname: Amy

Gender/Age: Female, 21
Gamer Title: Raptor20025
Chosen Game Mastery: Xenoblade Chronicles
Game Master Abilities:
Passive Abilities:
What's an aimbot?: This simply refers to a passive effect that allows Amethyst to have better accuracy when using projectile weapons. Thus, she can be seen as an amazing and accurate shot.

So Magic Does Exist: Amethyst has a connection to healing magic, though in a rather bizarre way. This will be covered in the Active Ability: By My Flesh and Blood be Healed.

Appearance's Matter: Based upon what weapon Amethyst can summon, from her bow to her rifle, her game master appearance changes to better suit that weapon. Purely cosmetic.

Active Abilities:
Summon Weapon: Summons Amethyst's weapon, to which in Amethyst's case revolves around keeping her distance with some sort of ranged weapon. Primarily, it is a sniper, but when technology such as it doesn't exists, it devolves into a bow. However, if needed, she can summon a weapon that another xenoblade chronicles character has: excluding the monado.

By My Flesh and Blood be Healed!: Amethyst resonates with the magic dwelling inside her, giving her the ability to transform her projectiles into healing ones that upon impact heal instead of hurt, absorbing into the body. This, however, comes at the cost that she herself must bear the pain that was recently healed for a brief moment. It may not come immediately, but it always comes.

I Won't Let Us Fall!: A deep powerful magic resonates within Amethyst, sacrificing her remaining energy and converting it all into a powerful magic projectile that she shoots into the air, exploding into a powerful healing mist that, well, heals the party significantly. However, it is a last resort type ability, as Amethyst is knocked unconscious for the remainder of the fight.

Background: Amethyst was born into a military family, being the last child and thus the youngest. Her father, while caring, was constantly being sent away for months on end, leaving her mother to solely take care of the children. And while the older ones missed their father, Amethyst grew up used to his continuous absence. Instead, she remembers finding another way to pass the time and forget that her father had to keep leaving occasionally. When he was around, she often sat on his lap, watching him play all sorts of various games and learning from it as well. While the other children played outside, Amethyst instead could be found by some sort of gaming technology, attempting to figure out how to play properly alone.

As time went on, so did the availability of various gaming consoles and genres. From computer gaming, Nintendo's Gamecube and Game Boy Color, the Xbox, along with older consoles, there was never a dull moment in Amethyst's life. She could often, if almost assured, around some piece of technology. She'd play Pokemon Crystal Version to Alien vs. Predator, and nearly anything in-between. The joy of playing Sonic the Hedgehog, the action of Battlefield 2142… All shaping her into a rather calm and sensible individual who thinks tactically and with her mind more than her heart.

Other: Sonic the Hedgehog 2 on the Sega Genesis. Tis a gem that Amethyst remembers playing fondly when she was younger. Which seeing as she somehow managed to get to the final boss so young, before kindergarten, was in and of itself an achievement.

[User]
"I can't see anything around us. This is insane" David said "I guess we should try to figure out where the hell we are and how we're gonna get back home. Someone pick a direction"

Silence.

"Yeah... me too guys" David fell back to the floor, defeated. After a few more minutes of relative silence and hopeless staring out into the abyss, David's head perked up, thinking he had just seen something sparkle in the distance.
"Anyone else see that?" he said as he jumped to his feet. He waved his arms frantically and began to shout "HEY! OVER HERE! HELP US!"

It sparkled again, slightly brighter than before, more noticeable. David kept waving his arms and crying for help. Some of the others joined in as well, until finally, their savior came into view. It appeared to be simply a bundle of pixellated light, floating in the darkness. It silently floated into their midst and rotated around, seemingly scanning the lifeforms around it. The light around began flashing as it began to speak, sounding remarkably like a calm C-3PO
"Hello there. I see you all arrived safely. I can sense your confusion, so please allow me a moment to explain. I am Program Directory 348009- Navigation and Caretaking. For simplicity, you can call me Navi, if you wish. Apologies for this whole event, but once I explain, I hope you all understand that I had no choice. This is The Mainframe, or at least, an unused section of it. The Mainframe. Allow me a moment to convert what I have to say into terms you will all understand."

Navi let out some robotic beeps as it processed. then it continued "While we have no remaining records on the full history of it, we know that The Mainframe has existed at least since the zenith of your world's technological boom. Think of it as a nexus point, upon which your internet was based, and it is under a grave threat, that I believe only you can stop. It began with a corrupted data file, infecting Default State Programs, which acted as the 'worker bees' of the proverbial colony here. They morphed into something akin to a virus, and began to attack the various systems of The Mainframe. The only area they were unable to conquer is the Datacore, The central processing unit of the entire system. If they were to reach that, they would have access to everything networked to The Mainframe. I fear they would able to use that access to destroy both our worlds. So I locked myself out and enacted a security measure. Using data from these 'video games' that your people adore, I have constructed a gauntlet of challenges to slow the Default's progress. They cannot adapt as quickly as organic beings. Even through their preferred method of hacking and infecting other AI constructs throughout the game worlds, they are limited by their programming. That is where you come in. If you were to enter these worlds and complete the challenges within before the Default, you would gain the key constructs necessary to access the Datacore, you could then use its power to delete the virus and return home"

"This is crazy" David said "I don't know why we were chosen, I don't know if we can do this, hell, I don't even know if this is real, but if this is the only way for to get home, I think we should do it"

He turned to his friends to see their response "What do you say guys? I did promise you all an epic week of gaming.... I mean yeah, this is not exactly the fun-filled relaxing time I imagined, but pretty close second right?"

"Excellent" Navi exclaimed "Please allow me to properly arm you for the challenges ahead"
At those words a band of light appeared around each of them. When it faded, they saw that a device had appeared on one of their arms, it resembled an old NES Power Glove, with way less buttons. Before any of them could comment a door began rising from the abyss in front of them, a wall constructing itself around it as it went. Above the massive door, in big block lettering, the words PRESS START

"The device you have will prove to be an invaluable tool. It will allow you to properly equip yourselves for the challenges ahead. A quick analysis of your online records show that each of you have a particular video game you have shown mastery in. By pressing the large red button in the center of the control board, you will be equipped with armor and abilities from those games. The buttons surrounding it will allow you all to access those abilities, and the blue button will bring up a holographic readout of the games you will face as well as any other information I can offer"

David took the lead, tapping the indicated button on his power glove. A brilliant flash of white light surrounded him, and when it cleared he was outfitted in the armor of a COG Gear.
"Ok Navi, this is pretty cool. As long as you don't start screaming HEY LISTEN, we're all good" David joked.

"Scanning. I have located the source and appreciate the humor. Please proceed to the door ahead"

[Assistant]
"Navi?!" Will stepped forward to appraise the weird digital construct."Yeah, no. How about PDANAK? Or, like, Padonk. Heh. Podonok. Hehehehe..." He paused to appreciate his impressive wit that allowed him to use a new russian curse word he learned online just last week.

But the door quickly soured his mood. He lunged in its direction and pulled on David's shoulder. "Look, uh, look man..." He was taken aback by David's sudden intimidating appearance. Was it even David anymore? "Um, this is obviously a trap, and I planned a single all-nighter for this. Why the hell are you cooperating?"

[User] Alirron followed along with this 'Navi's explanation, albeit somewhat warily. Their apparent recruition with a description of events that were hypothetically possible, but it seemed somewhat suspicious. After all this Navi was their only source of information, thus it was impossible to tell whether it was lying or not. In addition he found it odd that Navi found their information in game of choice online, given that his favorite brand at least, was entirely offline. Perhaps all games were connected to this mainframe of which it spoke. On the other hand, his options consisted of A) Going through the door and figuring it out from there or B) Waiting here and hoping something else happened. Option B would be really stupid. Aliron somewhat skeptically pressed said large red button and was greeted with an alarming sudden shift in his attire. In addition to the green clothes that, fittingly enough, were at the start of any Zelda game, he also came complete with a wooden shield and a master sword replica. Along with this came a somewhat disconcerting mental shift as he felt new knowledge flood into his brain for a moment. Aliron shook his head and placed both his sword and shield on his back in the typical idle stance of Link. "While you may have a point, we have little other option. Unless you wish to continue wandering in this barren digital land or waiting and hoping something else happens, we must take Navi up on her offer, at least for now." Aliron then stepped next to David and looked back at the rest of the group expectantly.

[Assistant]
Alex Hill

---

---

 Alex didn't know if they were dreaming or if this was real.All he knew was that as long as he was here with his friends he would push through it no matter what. He had to keep his mind focused and think logically. If what this 'Navi' said was true then they didn't have time to act like scared little kids, and hey it seemed like it'd be fun to play the games like this. At least there shouldn't be lag. Hopefully.

 After both David and Alirron showed there wasn't any immediate danger from pressing the start button, Alex stood and and said, "I'm not so sure it is a trap. I mean, what purpose would this Navi have for kidnapping us just to have us trigger some sort of trap. Sure maybe the things we would be fighting against might be working for Navi here, but come on playing the games we all love as the actual characters doesn't appeal to you at all. I for one can't wait to see what kind of experience lies beyond that door. Any gamer should want to jump at the chance to literally be the character from a video game. Not just holding the controller that moves them around. And Willie if it is a trap I'll pay you $50 bucks. Will that get you to participate?"

 With that Alex hit the button just like David and Alirron had. A bright light soon shined around Alex and when the light dispersed his clothes were now tattered and old looking. Also in place of his shorts were jeans. "Well. I definitely do not look as cool as David and Alirron right now."

[User]
Sam was a bit scared. This whole situation seemed to be forced onto them. However, as he and his friends finished listening to what 'Navi' had to say, and his friends tried to reassure them there was nothing to be afraid of and it was actually quiet fun, he started to follow their lead, but hesitated before putting the glove on. However, when he saw his friends put on the their new gear, he got excited. At was no secret his favourite game was Assassin's Creed, and when he pushed the button, the light overwhelmed him.

When the light dimmed though, He felt himself lighter and at the same time sturdier. He also saw himself with a hood on, and looked down to see himself have one of Edward Kenway's customes, more specificly a fully upgraded Pirate Captain outfit. It looked well on him, and he loved the way he felt. He slowly looked around clockwise, arms wide, showing off his custome to the others. "This is amazing!" He said, the being so happy he jumped in the air and automaticly did a backflip. "WOW! What was that?!" He asked, normally not being that light or agile.

[Assistant]
The small amount of silence before some sort of pixelated arrived was rather nice in the eyes of Amethyst. After all, seeing as a majority of them weren't panicking, it allowed her to try to analyze the situation a bit more. Granted there wasn't much to analyze, but a good sniper knew to survey the surroundings and always be alert on the off chance something would happen. That something was a light in the distance that a majority of the others called out towards, but not her. She was simply watching as it approached, not entirely sure if that was the best course of action of everyone to take, but fortunately as the light began to speak, it seemed to not be hostile.

And while that was a relief, She still was relatively on the unsure side, even if a majority of the others weren't. And while she wanted to voice her opinion on the matter and somewhat side with William, she instead decided she would instead observe what happened to the others. One of them now looked like Link from the Legend of Zelda, and she found that somewhat fitting for him. He did like that series a lot... In fact, the more she watched as the others started to press the start button, the more they took on appearances or something fitting from a game that they were seen as the best at. That made her question what her own appearance and overall style would be... She was often either the healer or sniper in a majority of her games, and that went rather well when playing Xenoblade Chronicles with the character Sharla...

And since there was no immediate harm, she too pressed the button, her rather casual outfit replaced in a ray of light with what looked like light armor, a blue cape, and even a beret to match. She looked like some sort of military official, and her only concerned that was raised from the fact that they were going to go into a video game world was, well, did that mean they could die?


[System]
Species: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 34

Nationality: Outreman, previously citizen of Angjusk

Occupation: Deputy head of department - Cradle Research & Development

Cybernetics:
* Cradle quick-access implant - Allows access to and from the Cradle environment without additional hardware. This advanced module also reduces fatigue caused by the process, allowing power users multiple entries in a single day.
* Tier 7c 'Cradle Builder' suite - Grants access to the programs created specifically for 'terraforming' the Cradle. Tier 7 out of 20 allows Freyr to auto-build a variety of specialised equipment and propose-build mid level structures.
* Ilyes Brand communication and productivity module - Standard implant for access to Outremer's communications network. Also integrates with many well known productivity tools like a personal assistant, as well as more bespoke scientific tools.

Backstory:
Freyr was born on Angjusk, an older colony than Outremer that was renowned for its military materiel, particularly star ships.

Her mother was an innovations tsar assigned by the government to a consortium of the planet's largest ship manufacturers. During most of Freyr's childhood, her mother's sole task was making sure Angjusk battle fleets were the best money could buy in the Diaspora.

Before she was born, her father owned and operated a series of protein farms across Angjusk. After a chance encounter at a lobby meeting, he was headhunted to co-ordinate the military industrial complex's entire food supply chain. He also met his future wife, as it was Freyr's mother who had recommended him for the job on that fateful day in the lobby.

Freyr was born five years later. Her early life was a whirlwind of schooling, snatches of intimacy with her parents (when they weren't busy) and extended periods with friends. She discovered a natural capacity for learning and excelled in her studies. So much so that she received offers from universities across the Diaspora to come and develop with them.

Her mother and father both pressured her to consider diplomas like Interplanetary Relations or Agrarian Policy. However Freyr was not interested in pursuing a career in politics. Angjusk has been involved in at least a dozen small conflicts since Freyr had been born. She had seen how politicians would destroy entire cultures for the sake of influence, and wanted none of it.

In her first act of defiance, Freyr accepted a position at a school in Babylon, the main city of a far away frontier colony called Outremer. Driven more by the desire to have time away from her planet than by the subjects on offer, she researched what Outremer was known for. It was here that she first discovered the object powering this section of the Diaspora - the Cradle.

She quickly became obsessed with its untapped potential and seemingly unknowable past. She decided to pursue Xenobiology and Machine Intelligence as her subjects of interest, voraciously consuming the knowledge gathered so far on the Cradle.

It was here at the university that she met her future partner, David, who was studying art history. Isolated from her family and friends, alone on a strange planet, Freyr was glad of his unassuming company and kindness. They grew very close over the course of their degrees, and moved in together after graduation. Their daughter Amy was born a few years later.

After Uni, Freyr was picked up by an Outremer administration outreach team and placed in a government career fast lane. Her obsession with the Cradle made her an obvious choice for the Cradle Research & Development department. Once there, she quickly proved herself capable. Several breakthroughs in her first five years meant she was allowed to hand select a team of dynamic young individuals to help pursue her work. A couple more catapulted her into a deputy head of department role, to the ire of some of it's older and more entrenched members.

It was on her 34th birthday that the Cradle abducted her family. It had been acting strangely for weeks prior, rolling back years of terraforming. Freyr had been working round the clock to figure out why, practically living at her field office by the Border. David had bought sweet treats and had Amy with her.

What can only be described as creatures emerged from beyond the Border and overran the camp. A panic spread through the mostly unarmed workers, leading many to flee for their lives. Freyr's last memory of her family was being propelled across the camp by one of the creatures. She could only watch from her position immobile on the floor as they carried off her husband and little girl.

Security forces conducted a sweep of the immediate area beyond the Border, but found no sign of them. So Freyr began looking by herself as soon as her broken bones were reconstructed. Months went by. Her work stopped and her mental health deteriorated. Eventually she was placed on sick leave and her access revoked, after she attempted to use her influence to organise an armed excursion deep into the uncontrolled zone.

[User]
By this point, there was likely little surprise to the fact that Roth'Orsa had a calm, direct response to what the Director-General had showed them. This time, she continued to stare ahead at the screen after the video ended, without actually looking at any of the Human representatives. "Even if you were to give us all information you possess on the Cradle, and give us full access to every aspect of it, we could not guarantee that we would be able to take control of it in time to save your world." Roth'Orsa said flatly. "There are no guaranteed outcomes in any choice we could make. Our best outcomes require trusting in the word of the being we discovered. There is no way to be sure of its honesty, but all evidence we have access to does…suggest truth in some of its claims. It made the claim that it influenced the development of life on our planet, which is…consistent with the accepted hypothesis of the Rahn'Saki prior to these events."

Roth'Orsa's last statement turned the heads of multiple Rothians across the room, including some of the ranking leadership. Vreta was both confused and surprised by what she seemed to be implying. The idea that Rothian life could have been intelligently designed had been a shock to him when the first evidence came to light weeks ago, but Roth seemed to be suggesting that the Rahn'Saki had been considering that possibility even beforehand. Not only did they consider it, but the idea was their favored explanation. He had no idea what had caused them take on such ideas, but it was certainly not a commonly held belief among Rothians as a whole.

Regardless, Roth'Orsa did not pause for so much as a moment to address her own people's surprise. "We believe, with all data considered, that allowing the being to heal the Cradle is the most likely path to ending the crisis on your world. Were the situation less dire, we would recommend greater caution, but to delay risks losing the option of the being's assistance. Is Outremer in agreement, overall?"

[Assistant]
When the rows of faces appeared back on the screen once the clip had finished, many of them wore truly shocked expressions. About two thirds had been instantly ejected from the meeting by the video's clearance level, leaving only nine top officials in the conference.

Freyr knew immediately upon surveying the faces of her superiors that the Director-General had gotten his way. He'd wielded top secret footage from her morning briefing and hyperbole like a club to hammer any sense of caution or due process from his audience. She watched, exasperated, as Outremer's high command discreetly messaged each other while the Speaker made her closing remarks.

Freyr quickly surveyed her colleagues' faces; they looked horrified with the pantomime unfolding before their eyes. She then caught 595's eye - the agent was grim and pale, still not fully recovered from her re-entry. She gave Freyr an incomprehensible look - what was that? Pain? Fear? Sleep starved elation?

Freyr turned back and hurriedly leaned forward in her seat before the officials gave their answer. "As head of Cradle Research and Development, I would like to formally object to reuniting the artefact, codenamed Rothia 1, with the Cradle. Under Diaspora Colonial Secrets statute 43, article…61, the expedition lead can request thirty Earth days of direct study in-situ before presenting official recommendations to the-"

"Dr Lang I'm terribly sorry, but your conflict of interest with the Cradle's operation precludes you from using DCS in this way. Especially in Rothian space." Smith replied coolly, having obviously prepared responses to the primary arcane procedure that Freyr was privy to.

"Dr Lang... As someone who has lost a child too, I know the pain you must be feeling." President DeWinter soothed; all of the faces had stopped talking to each other and were now watching her closely. "I would give anything to see my babies again. But we must do this, or we risk every future generation of Outreman children. For that reason, I'm authorising the repatriation of this object to the Cradle. I hope you will help us, Freyr." Dr Lang massaged her eye sockets, resigning herself once again. She nodded slowly. "Of course, Madame President."

[User]
For the first time, Roth'Orsa actually paused for an appreciable moment to formulate her response. Vreta imagined the Rahn'Saki were discussing among themselves, perhaps with some disagreements among them to account for the short delay. "If we are in agreement, then we should begin preparations to move the device to Outremer. One of our scientists, Nirann, has already submitted a proposal." She said, turning her head towards his holographic avatar and gesturing to him. "If you please."

Nirann was initially surprised to be called upon to speak. The Rahn'Saki doubtless already knew everything he knew, and much more. There was a good reason the rest of them had stayed quiet while the Rahn'Saki were handling diplomacy. Still, he did not hesitate to follow his leaders' request. "Of course. I am aware that the Cradle has, in the past, been adverse to moving from its position within Outremer's crust. We do not know if this new device would be similarly stubborn, but in any case, my proposal would bypass such resistance." Nirann began as he pushed a digital copy of his written proposal to each of the meeting's attendees still present. "Rather than try to excavate the object, we can simply build a Class 1 gateway around it, underground. At the same time, we bring another gateway to Outremer, then simply send it through the wormhole. Even if the object will allow us to move it with no resistance by other means, this process would still be quicker than the time it would take to excavate it from Rothia safely."

"In addition, we also need to discuss our cooperation." Roth'Orsa quickly continued. "This matter has moved far beyond just the concern of Humanity on Outremer. Based on the information available, the list of potential outcomes may impact every living species in our galaxy. We will require full cooperation in the study of these devices, and equal decision-making power for any matter with a potential influence beyond Humanity's concerns on Outremer."

[Assistant]
"Thank you for submitting that proposal, Nirann. We will need assurances that the gate is only temporary, though." President DeWinter smiled at the holographic Rothian then turned her head to address at Roth'Orsa.

"We have discussed the arrangement as a group and could potentially agree to expand the clause on exo-Cradle objects. So we can investigate this entity's compatriots together." The Director-General nodded encouragingly while DeWinter continued. "But we cannot agree to any expansion of our relationship regarding the Cradle. It is still our asset, and willfully relinquishing control to another civilisation would reflect poorly on this administration. Our top priority right now should be returning this thing home."

[User]
"But you are mistaken, President." Roth'Orsa replied, unshaken by the Humans' resistance, and unmoving in her demeanor. "The Cradle is not yours. You did not create it, and as we have learned, its creators are not dead, nor did they willingly abandon it. If what we have learned is accurate, the Cradle is the home of these beings. It belongs to them, and they have the right to it. The Cradle now fits the definition of the native homeworld of an independent, intelligent species within your borders. You do have the right to control first contact, but you do not have the right to deny us access to it for our own…anthropological study and diplomatic activities."

Roth'Orsa leaned forward, maintaining her stare towards President DeWinter. "Even aside from such legal definitions, what happens with the Cradle no longer just concerns Humanity. Every Rothian, every Tindrel, Ulsix, or Paran. Every single thinking being in our galaxy could be preserved or destroyed based on what happens to the Cradle. Consider, President DeWinter, that we are no longer discussing a piece of technology. We are no longer merely arguing about allowing Rothian scientists to satisfy their curiosity studying an interesting computer. We are discussing an existential threat to the continued existence of the Rothian people. This is no longer a matter of intellectual curiosity for us, President, it is a matter of survival. Consider your answer within that context, before you reply. We will not demand Cradle data you have already gathered through the centuries, none of your technologies nor secrets you have extracted, but we will require full and equal access to study the Cradle as it is now. We will require equal involvement in reuniting the device on Rothia with the Cradle, and an equal voice in the events to come involving it. There is nothing less that is acceptable."

[Assistant]
"I can take that first part for you, Madame President." The Director-General asserted. DeWinter nodded, glad to put some distance between herself and this problematic legalese. The man with the shining eyes answered the Speaker.

"The Cradle has always been categorised as a 'colonised habitat' belonging to Outremer, ever since we founded New Antioch. For the past...three hundred and sixteen years it has been sub categorised as a 'Tier 1 government installation'. This means we are authorised by Diaspora law to deny access for any reason. Given these unique circumstances, if this intelligence can prove that the Cradle is it's home we are prepared to fast track it's repatriation. But we cannot do that if you are holding it hostage and withholding it's equivalent of medical assistance. You may well be contravening the Native Populations framework if you refuse to move it to Outremer."

Freyr hung, speechless, on every word of this exchange. It was noticeable how much better prepared the Director-General was now, when compared to the last time they'd been together at the Rothian embassy on Outremer. She saw a man who had inadvertently opened up a can of worms, and was now painstakingly catching and killing all of the loose fugitives with the precision of a surgeon. Freyr also noticed that after his initial admonishment of herself, Smith had become utterly emotionless, perhaps to mirror the Speaker herself.

"Thank you, Director-General. I would like to add that we are well aware of the scale of this discovery. We're looking forward to working together as allies to find a solution. I'm sure we can find some middle ground with regard to data sharing. We will also of course involve Rothia and any other civilisations in the decision-making process."


[System]
Race: Human
Class: Witch
Rank: Iron
Affinities:
Fire: Red and Blue
Special: Plant
Attributes
Strength: Low
Intelligence: Excellent
Agility: Low
Dexterity: High
Constitution: Average
Resilience: Average

Brief Backstory:
The wandering youngster appeared at the guild doorstep one day, promising aid in return for shelter. The previous guildmaster, heavily understaffed and drowning in bureaucracy at the time, reluctantly accepted. Not much is known about the witch, except that if she isn't at the guild hall then she'll be tucked away in her room experimenting with some sort of creation. She frequently issues collection missions to the members for materials she is in need of, the rewards being a part of whatever she's making at the time.

Apart from supplying general goods to the guild, she deals with member registration, finances and any dealings with the kingdom. Her workload is largely never-ending, and though she rarely participates on the battlefield, she is an integral part of the guild's operation.

Weapons: Gathering knife. Whatever creation she has on her at the time.
Abilities: Oleda is a highly skilled crafter, particularly in regards to magical items. The most she's ever admitted to Cel of her history is that she learned potion brewing from her mother and the rest, she claims, she picked up along the way. Creations such as magic restraints, enchanted gathering knives and self-drawing maps are all within the scope of her ability. She also produces goods, with varying degrees of legality, that can be used in combat or reconnaissance. But convincing her those are worth the effort would be the greater challenge.

Her fire affinity assists her with heating and cooling potions, but their application in combat remains largely untested. For those who've caught a glimpse of her residency on the second floor, it is filled with all manner of strange species she's hand-grown herself. However, many are valuable and under heavy enchantment, leading entry to be at the individual's peril.

[User]
Oleda
The guild was empty as violet shadows faded to the rising dawn. Red had just begun to touch the rim of the horizon, trees rustling in the soft light. Birds slowly awoke, beginning their twittering. Oleda's expression was etched into a scowl.

Within the guild, chaos reigned.

The witch stood at the top of the stairs, a bundle of scrolls clutched to her chest. The requests for new supplies, somehow, lost urgency in face of the violent mass of energy currently tearing the guild apart. The deep, distinctive violet of the Rift swirled at the edges, alerting her to the cause. And vines, or perhaps roots crawled from inside the mirror like surface to crack through the wooden floorbards.

From her vintage point she could make out the indistinct colours of a forest, or perhaps a bog. Strange lights within the image threw off her guess.

Oleda sighed, stomping down the stairs with no small degree of frustration. The air roared around her, swallowing sound itself as she dumped her scrolls beneath the guild desk. It's too early for this.

Her hand landed on a nearby stack of papers as the potion holding it down toppled to the floor. The two banners either side of the hall twisted in the air, threatening to rip from their hinges. Oleda spared it all a pained look, settling into the chair behind the counter. There were various things that needed to be tied down, but until help arrived there wasn't much she could do. It's seriously too early for this.

Urgent
A dungeon has appeared in the guild hall. Assist Oleda with investigating and dealing with any threats.

[Assistant]
What is this madness? An indoor storm!?

Mercutio stumbled into the hall, gasping at the oddity before him. The air felt heavy as the violet energy before him pulsed without regard for its surroundings. It beckoned, insisted, daring all to enter into its peculiar domain. The dracolvian clambered against a more secure piece of furniture and held tight. In that moment he spotted a figure. It was Lady Oleda, the guild clerk, sitting on a chair in front of the counter. The expression on her face looked more annoyed than shocked at the present phenomena. Though to be fair, that seemed to always be the case, especially when dealing with fumbling Coppers like himself.

Maybe this isn't as dangerous as it looks? Just then a book came flying in his direction. He ducked behind the table as it slashed over his head and slammed against the wall.

"Okay, maybe not."

Mercutio made a bee line in her direction, picking up loose items scattered on the ground. His arms were full by the time he reached her.

"H-hello, Lady Oleda." His tinny voice echoed out from his helmet.

Her nonchalant disposition contrasted so much with the unfolding mayhem that he too tried to procure the same measure of calm, but his panicky eyes, shifting through the round slits of his helmet had betrayed him.

"Umm, is that supposed to be here?"

[User] Velu had left home two days ago and was now nearing the edge of his forest. Based on what he had heard, the hall of the Adventurer's Guild should be somewhere in this general area. It didn't take him long to find the guild hall. More accurately, he found the rift that had opened at the site of the Guild Hall and had ventured closer to investigate. When he got closer to the chaos that was the newly formed rift, he realized that the rift was forming at the site of the Guild Hall for the Adventurer's Guild. He opened the door to the hall and stepped inside to find even more chaos. "This is probably a bad time to ask about joining the Guild, but do you need help with anything?" Velu asked the only two people currently within the hall.

[Assistant]
Oleda stared at chaos in front of her. Unsure what to tackle first. Unsure if interfering would make it better or worse.

White knuckles remained clamped down on the loose papers over the desk. She knew theoretically she should pull them out of the storm and under the counter where they'd be safe. Yet she was stumped. Not willing to accept it... Grey blue took in the thrashing winds with a tight-lipped expression. The mismatched wooden boards cracked with roots. The banners as one ripped from its hinges and snagged on a table-

"H-hello, Lady Oleda."

Ah. The witch blinked. A voice she hadn't heard approach over the roaring winds.

She realised her mistake a second late. Her hand had lifted a fraction off the papers and like a great flock of sparrows the air tore them from beneath her palm— twisting and swooping towards the murky surface of the dungeon. Oleda watched as they disappeared with soundless ripples, looking as if she'd bitten a lime. Please tell me those weren't important.

Ah, but they would be. It was her fault for leaving them out, really. She should know by now misfortune followed the guild like an overzealous cat.

"Umm, is that supposed to be here?"

The coppery echo was distinct, dragging her back from thoughts of past catastrophes before she could measure how they compared to now. Her eyes snapped to the fins of the lancer's helm, though the sound of his voice alerted her first to who it was. "Merc-" she said. Her gaze noted the armful of items, dark gloves clutching books and loose rubble against his chestplate. He glanced between her and the howling rift. Eyes shifting beneath the circles of his visor.

"Oh." The question caught up with her head and she blinked, glancing towards the heart of the destruction. Roots had begun curling upwards, weaving around each other as they followed the boundry of the energy. "I'm assuming you mean the incarnation of chaos over there..." A stray mug came whistling towards them, narrowly avoiding Oleda's head. The witch paused her gesture, continuing a little faintly. "-not really, no."

Though it really depends on the interpretation of 'meant'. She was sure the world meant for it to be there, whether because the guild was so charged with magic or the universe hated their guts. But as far as plans for the day went, dealing with an interdimensional rift had not been on the agenda, no.

The lancer's stance caught her attention as Oleda dragged her eyes from the chaos. Her brow creased, watching his finicky gaze beneath the visor. The blue glint of scales were somewhat visible around his eyes, reminding her she had yet to see anything more than the rounded helm he wore. "I guess this is your first time seeing a dungeon form," she said.

It wasn't unusual. People usually found dungeons—if they found them at all—after the initial opening and the boundry had been established. Or the destruction drew their attention and by the time they arrived it had become stable. Field researchers tended to encounter them the most, as they were often at the site of magic infused phenomena.

Oleda was not a field researcher. But she had, on occasion, been known to dabble with waystones. It was uncommon knowledge that breaking a waystone could trigger a dungeon forming. After all, as far as anyone knew they worked by warping through the rift.

Long story short, she no longer brought waystones anywhere near her room.

The sound of the guild doors brought a new element to the scene and for one, dreadful moment Oleda feared the force had been strong enough to tear the wood from its hinges.

"This is probably a bad time to ask about joining the Guild, but do you need help with anything?" The stranger's voice seemed to carry across the wind.

"Uh, it's under control!" Oleda called back. As if spiteful of her words a stray piece of wood came spinning towards the two. She squawked, ducking under the counter and pulling Mercutio with her. "I'd stay back! It'll be like this until it forms a proper boundary!"

[User]
The sudden pull from Lady Oleda made him tumble toward the ground. The Trident fastened behind Mercutio broke his fall as it clanged against the top of the counter. Its weight kept him pinned as the butt of the weapon was lodged awkwardly against an overturned chair. He looked a bit like a spit roasted fish that managed to free itself from one arm.

"Well, this is unfortunate..." Mercutio said aloud, wanting to die from embarrassment.

He eventually contorted his way free. Unsheathing his Trident, and untangling it from his Kraken's net, he joined Lady Oleda underneath the counter as he held the weapon beside him.

"Ahem..." The dracolvian let out a large sigh. Hoping to deflect attention from his entangled mishap, he immediately brought up his concern about the visitor. "I hope whoever that is knows about the boundary rule too!"

[Assistant]
She'd forgotten he was a lancer. Oleda blinked as Mercutio's weapon clanged against the top of the counter, giving him a pained look as she debated whether to help. She had the discretion at least to look elsewhere, peeking over the top of the wooden desk as she waited for the copper to right himself.

The roots grasping their way around the edge of the gateway began to twine at the top of the arch. Curling into patterns reflective of the nebulous energy. Oleda's shoulders sloped at the sight, anticipating an end to the chaos. Only to shoot right back up as the draconian raised his voice beside her.

She shot him a look. The clunky armour seemed too large for the small space behind the counter. Though he'd managed to unlatch his weapons and wisely had them to the side, held at the ready.

"...it's less of a rule, she said, a little louder than usual to be heard over the wind. She glanced back at the portal, one arm slung over the counter as she fumbled around for something beneath the shelves. "The energy stabilises eventually. It's a bit like-"

The high-pitched keen that had been filling the hall cut off. Oleda stopped, her head ringing in the absence of the sound. Items began to clatter to the ground in a series of thuds and cracks. The wind subsided, replaced with heavy silence enough to hear her own heartbeat. As quickly as the chaos began, it had ended.

The witch relaxed, her hand falling on the book she needed amongst the bottles and scrolls and dried out ingredients. "It's a bit like a wound," she said again, filling the empty air. The surface of the dungeon hummed, seeming content. "It's destructive at first, but it stems the bleeding on its own given time."

With the chaos tamed it was easier to see the extent of the damage on the guild. Oleda's explanation faltered at the sight of the scoured walls and upturned floorboards. Their newest visitor stood just inside the doors, the sharp taper of his ears alerting her to his nature.

She sighed, rising to her feet. The initial forming of dungeons was hardly the worst thing about them. "Anyway," she said, addressing the new arrival. "Who are you exactly?"


[System]
Age:
24
Position:
Master of Disguise
Appearance/Clothing:

Minus tattoos

Doesn't smoke
^Usually these clothes

Skills:

* Master of disguise
* Jack of all trades (Basic knowledge of everything with experience in many fields.)
* Deception
* Diplomat
* Language skills (Can learn languages quickly, speaks mainly English, German, Chinese (Mandarin))
* Recon
* Stealth
* Melee (Knife and fist)
* Athletics
* Gun combat (Pistol)
* Investigate

Crimes Against The Alliance:
Impersonating many different figure heads (Boy was it a fun)
Stealing crucial information

Additional Information:
* Gets his knowledge from reading books, but does not usually retain expert information for long periods of time

	+ Occasionally will remember expert knowledge in some random field for long periods of time, such as Neurosurgery, usually useless in most situations
* Has had jobs pretending to be different types of doctors, a mechanic, weapons engineer, pilot, heads of government, mercenary, and even a companion
* Usually dresses up in a suit and disguised because he doesn't want people to identify him
* Occasionally dresses up as a female to practice mannerisms, speech and tone (Also to make fun of other men)
* Easily embarrassed when not disguised in some shape or form
* Can mimic voices and body movements
* Has fun pretending to be someone doing something that they would never usually do

Weapons:
* Knife
* Pistol
* Hand-to-hand combat

Possessions:
* Chemistry set for making dyes and perfumes, etc.
* Sewing kit and material for making clothes for disguises
* Make up, masks, fat suits, fake skins, etc.
* A pendant with a photo

Personality:
When Rune is disguised, he is more confident and more outgoing, unless the 'character' he needs to play is otherwise. Since he is usually disguised anyway, he is 'normally', a little sophisticated, and kind. He is reliable and always remains calm. His speech displays maturity and wisdom. He upholds himself with dignity and in a manner that says he would speak of justice, although he rarely mentions anything to do with justice.

On the other hand, when he is not disguised, he is a meek and shy. Unable to speak up much, he usually keeps a distance from others. Not getting closer than needed to them. Unsociable and usually looking down, it would seem he was a completely different person. He does however find it fun to observe people.

Finally, in his occasional female disguise, he ... she? is enigmatic and flirtatious. Always having some sort of fun.

History:

The master of disguise, Rune, was abandoned when he was a child, left with a simple pendant, with a photo of someone he does not recognise, but keeps close. Abandoned on the street, a rich nobleman by the name Weiβ-Schwarz, appeared and took him in. There was a reason the nobleman took him in, it was because of the resemblance to his own son. His son was very arrogant and disrespectful. Weiβ-Schwarz took in Rune to have him be his son's body double and give himself a respectable image.

Rune had therefore trained in learning mannerisms and body language, speech mimicry of the boy he was to act as. Then act as a version of the boy that was respectful and honorable. In doing so, he was treated like he was the son. As time passed, the boy had practically taken over the son's role, and was even considered to be the one to become the heir. However, the real son was not pleased. Suddenly rumors were spread, the son was ruining the family image, committing larceny and many other crimes. Weiβ-Schwarz was considering to have his own son 'removed'.

That was when Rune decided he should leave, and let the family affairs clear up. Going out, he committed larceny in front of many people, before taking off a mask and wig and running off. The Weiβ-Schwarz family was cleared of the rumors. The real son was not as respectful and honorable, but he had started to take his right as heir more seriously. This lead to Rune being free from his disguise, and let him assume more disguises.

Many years followed, and he has been disguising, infiltrating and stealing information for various groups of people to make a living. He is even renown for his imitation of Alliance head figures who, on television, went naked and gave a speech about love and puppies. That was one job he had fun with. People did not realise what was going on until a image of his mask being taken off was found. He became known as a master of disguise and continued on many other jobs after that.

[User]
Hannah groaned as the Captain's barked order came over the comm, coughing up a lung as she pulled herself to her feet with the railing. Make that foot—she limped to the console and propped her hip against it, fingers flying to input the override that would allow the cargo bay to open even with the alarms blaring.

Captain Lee made it to the release, the hatch opened, and some of the haze lessened. The coughing didn't let up, but Hannah slumped against the railing in relief anyway. She let her knees buckle and she sat on the floor, legs swinging in the open air over the cargo bay and her arms folded on top of the bottom rail.

"Captain," she said hoarsely, "Honest to Betsy that wasn't me this time."

She was just about to try some weak joke to try and brighten the Captain's black mood when the stragglers from outside caught her attention. Her eyebrows rose, and she pulled herself to her feet again, painfully making her way down into the hold. She gave halfhearted waves to the newcomers, but figured that if anyone was going to let them on board, it should be the Captain—and she had crates of grenades to shove in a refrigerator. And a busted ankle to deal with. Christ.

[Assistant]
The firefly started to open, black smoke escaping from the hatch. Waving his hand in front of him, fanning the smoke, Rune heard the captain speak. The captain stated that they were alive and wandered who he was. "Name's Jeff. I'm a small time mechanic here. Saw your ship hurling down, wanted to see if you were hurt or not, see if maybe you needed some repairs." As Rune gave a random fake name, someone else came over to the crash site. A mechanic.

Oh damn it! I hope I don't get discovered so quickly. Rune thought to himself, looking over to them. Inside the ship, a hoarse voice called out to the captain. Betsy? Who is that? Looking up at the voice, he saw a young lady, couldn't be older than himself. Seeing her wave, he waved back. "Anyway, exactly what happened here? Do you have a mechanic, Captain? Because it's dangerous being in the black without one." Rune asked the Captain. "If you need some repairs done, I'd like to offer my services. In return, I'd like to travel along to one of the other planets, if you don't mind." Rune demonstrated a full set of tools, ready to be used for the job.

[User]
Hitting the comms Iean set out a word in between coughs. "I'm fine here capin. Cough. Hack. We got problems of the critical sort." Iean sprayed some stuff that tried to spark up and some areas still holding heat. Iean shook his head as he looked at the damage. Thankful to be alive he looked up and yelled at the ceiling in Chinese. "What the devil are you playing at? You'll not get this ship without a fight!" The only thing to do now was to find a place with better air.

Making his way to the cargo hold the high ceiling would allow the lower level to be free of smoke so he headed in that direction and when the ship touched down and the doors opened the air would rush to great him. Iean didn't have to wait long to breath free. "Ah that's the good stuff." He stayed close to listen in on the damage report from the captain.

[Assistant]
Captain groaned deeply as she pushed herself to her feet, pulling a bloodied hand away from the deep gash in her bicep and taking out a cigarette, lighting it quickly and taking a long draw off of it. Looking at the two that had come up to check out the crash.

 "Yeah, we had one and if I find that gorram mechanic I will drop him in deep space before he can say Browncoat," she spat as she held the smoke between her teeth.

 "All injuries report to the infirmary, if you can't have someone carry you," she yelled into the com before turning back to the two new comers and then over to Iean.

 "Preacher, take these two to the problem and have them get to work," she said as she pushed the smoke from between her teeth. "One of you start working on repairs, the other bring me a damage assessment in the infirmary. I'll hire both of you if you can get this gorram ship off the ground in less than a week, if not I'll pay one and hire the other. Who ever is better at the job," she said before storming off back into the ship and making her way down to the infirmary to patch up her arm and see who else got the blue blazes knocked out of them.

[User]
Gideon looked over with a mental groan at the other mechanic, the man was downright unflappable in the situation. He looked back at those that were talking and cast glance back to the other potential rival. He stowed his bike to the corner and came back to the fellow grease monkey to talk to him as calmly as he could while waiting for the preacher

"Alright, lets keep this simple, we can't be in there butting heads or else we both going to be stuck on this rock. One of us needs to do the hard work and the other one do the reports. Have you ever done overhauls to a firefly before?"

He had done a lot of work in the war, scrapping and slapping ships parts that were shot down or captured alliance pieces. Of them he had to appreciate purple belly tech, it was all built around like lego blocks. Push it in, pull it out, ultimate efficiency.

"Alright, lets assume for a second everything is (insert chinese here), We have the the two shuttles and the firefly made by the same people who make Dragonflies, her kissing cousin.
After that we got the bumble bee which is the inbred cousin, then yellow-jackets who are the brother from another mother and hornets that look like you from a ways off but aint got nothing to do with you. with Scarabs limping in at the last.

If the reactor is gone, A dragonfly has the same make we can use, but we can cobble together something that will limp with a long range shuttle to take apart or take a huge risk with finding a bumblebee to take apart piece by piece for what we need like a compression coil or the kin. The engine is in the same boat, either a dragonfly for a full replacement or a shuttle for parts. And again for the thrusters.
Hell we can get her just about anywhere for a spell if we scrap both of her shuttled for parts. But i'd rather not kill the babies to feed the momma-bird, she'll know and she'll let us know her displeasure.

Sensor packs we can get from both of those as well as any bumblebee, scarab, or hornet. Same for the whole computer. If the coms are down, then we can get it from anything but the scarab. What do you say?"

[Assistant]
The captain headed down to the infirmary grumbling under her breath as she held her cigarette between her lips in the corner of her mouth. Storming in she rolled her eyes at the mess that had been caused by the crash and started rummaging though what was scattered about on the floor to find what she was looking for.

 After a while she gave up and opted for doing it the old fashion way. Grabbing a gauze she cleaned up the wound and flicked her lighter, letting the flame build up heat on its steel surface. Once the top part began to glow she took a deep breath and pressed it against the wound, cauterizing it. Her breath held and her fingers curled against the counter. Pulling the lighter back she shook her grip loose and shoved the lighter back in her pocket.

 Pulling the cigarette from her lips she paced a bit as she swung her arm about. Her foot kicking a small box, tilting her head she looked down and narrowed her eyes, it had been the kit she had been looking for.

 "Figures," she said as she made her way back out of the infirmary and headed right for the bridge. She needed a damage assessment go the electrical and the rest of the systems.


[System]
Character Sheet
Age: 74
Race: Desert Elf
Description/picture (if you want) Lia can be described as an Arabian Nightmare, her tanned skinned scorched by the sun stand in stark relief of her red tattoo's that cover her arms and legs in harsh geometric lines, dispersed with swirling ivy that trails its way to the center of Lia's body, coming to stop at a solid ring around her belly button. Her face was tattooed in the same way, but here it added a softness to her face that her hard lean body lacked. Years of training in the hot desert sun had left little softness in Lia, but she did mourn the loss of that gentle femininity some days, and was known for brief fits of compassion and caring. Her eyes were a striking tiger's eye color, Honey, sunflower and fresh packed earth mixing into her iris' causing a riot before fading into black at the center and outskirts of her eyes. Her long jet black hair fell to her bottom, and was tied into two long braids skillfully wrapped in cloth of different bright colors. At the Manor, Lia typically wears skinny jeans, doc martins and a simple tight white guinea tea. The angry red hue of her tattoos make themselves known through the thin stretched fabric, and Lia felt a zing of pride. Her plump lips wear constantly being tugged into her mouth by her lip ring, keeping them a bright natural red color. Standing at 5'9, Lia felt easy and confident in her own skin.
[/img]goo.gl/images/asEoGm[/img]
Powers: Fire wielding, some proficiency with air and earth wielding.
Weapons(if any): Throwing knives held by a leather hilt, 2 9mm hand guns strapped to each thigh and a rudimentary throwing spear blessed by her desert elf tribe. True ability uknown.
History: Lia was born and bread in the desert of Marrakesh near Iberia to a small tribe of Desert Elves who had lived peacefully for years with other nomadic beings, humans who made their life on the desert and those who were searching for relief from the manmade world. Their tribe had lived happily, training each generation to be warriors, lovers, and protectors. Keeping ancient customs alive, Lia had an old soul that spoke of generations of ancestors. But she also had a temper. Her powers for fire wielding were too vast, too much for the small unnamed tribe to help her wield any longer. Soon they became wary of her, stopping conversation as she entered the room, declining invitations for hunting or trading trips, so she went alone. She became bitter, the fire in her veins nothing in comparison to the fire the burned white hot in her eyes. With her spine rigid, she walked into her Grandmother's dwelling, a small hastily built hut her tribe erects during the sand storm season for each of its elders. The rest of the village sleeps together huddled into one giant yurt filled with furs and hides, pillows in bright colors and the smell of Shisha strong in the air. Her grandmother was Lia's only living relative, and had been ill for a long time. As elves dont typically age at the same rate as humans, Lia's grandmother must be impossibly old. The millennia lumbering slowly on as Tal's body weighed down and became creased with age. Lia looked at Tal and told her that she needed to leave and discover more help in wielding her impossibly large and growing skill. Tal easily let Lia go, understanding her granddaughters need for something more than nomadic customs and its predictability. Though Lia still kept the sands of Marrakech in her veins, her fire needed something more, and she let that flame at the center of her belly lead her towards the House of Rejects.
Odds and ends: (Want to add something not here??)
Lia has been in the technological world for about a year by the time she finally reaches the doors of the House. While she is basically fluent in pop culture and technology, there are sometimes small and glaring gaps in her knowledge. When angered she turns back into the angry desert nomad, and her fire has been growing steadily after every usage, making it difficult to master one level of power before being driven deeper into the molten core that holds her fire. Over the year she has discovered her basic affinity for Air, Earth and water wielding and has become proficient in wielding them together, but her fire continues to be uncooperative.

[User]
Brilliant, yellow irises drifted toward Thortan with his latest round of commentary, a sound similar to 'tchah' offered under her breath. The woman bore no fur, nor was she overtly wolf like save for the canines that extended within her mouth. Had it not been for the eyes, she'd have been mistaken as human. A sigh escaped too at the utilization of the word pup and she shook her head.

The cigarette itself had been snuffed out, her hand coming away from the hilt of her blade as she let the half finished smoke disappear in a brief swirl of shadow magic. "I won't smoke in the common areas, but I'll be damned if you tell me I can't smoke in my own room." A quiet had settled over her features as she returned her gaze to Ophelia, a brief smile coming to her lips.

[Not in 'English'!]"The god my people worship granted us a blessing based in rage, as well. Like the territorial instinct of a wolf we growl, snap and bite at those that even appear to wrong us. Calming the anger was the first step to learning how to navigate our gifts. It appears we have a thing or two in common." The words did not come out in the common dialect of the humans, but rather in the native tongue of the desert elves. It was smooth and without error, though it was the most common form of the language, and not spoken with any particular dialect in mind.

[Assistant]
Lia watched the brief exchange between the two, and it was obvious these two had a longer history than just a few minutes. Her long ears pricked at the sound of her native language being spoken, rather well. Skillfully blended neutrally as to not be distinctive in any particular region. She chewed the womans words a few minutes, rolling it around and gathering all the information she could from them. Her tattoos pulsed once more as she came to the conclusion that these two held her best chance, and that she would gather what she could from them.
 Lia lifted her fingers and called upon her Air, her breath, and guided the stray ciggarette smoke away from Mr. Masters and herself, lazily guiding it into a few patterns and shapes before letting it go well away from everyone.
She turned to the woman, her eyes steady but not unkind, and spoke her true tongue, the melodic and lilting desert language of the Saadian region, and her tattoos glowed once more, this time with love for her native language, and thankful to this woman for her gift, the ability to speak with others as her true self. Her eyes clamped shut as the rage in her belly uncoiled itself a little more, strong emotion turning deadly in her stomach, she deadened her eyes and willed her tattoos quiet, taking a deep breath through her nose. She swung her head back to Masters, tugged her lip ring into her mouth, and narrowed her eyes again.
 " Then lets get started."

[User]
"Most excellent!!" Thortan said excitedly. "Well than, shall we eat?? I am sure you both are positively famished. Please while I prepare the meal, go drop off your belongings, I am sure you will find your room easily enough, and to your liking??" Thortan turned and walked into the house chuckling to himself. He made his way towards the kitchen and began rummaging through the things to make for dinner. His mind wandered as he did so.

"Thortan you scoundrel, why must you always joke at times like these?? The humans have declared war on us!!" Queen Selnexia said in a serious tone.

"M'lady, so serious, while numerous the humans are fragile and don't live quite as long as we do. I am sure their king will tire of this blind jealousy soon enough. No one likes long drawn out campaigns." He said with his trademark smirk.

"You have been away for to long trickster, the humans hate us. They feel inferior to us since I locked away Lumina's in her prison. They feel as though their seat on the council amounts to nothing more than pity!!" The queen stood from her throne and walked up to Thortan. She began poking his chest to emphasize her points. "They will not easily back down, you have to gather our forces and prepare for war!!"

"As you wish, my queen." Thortan said with an exaggerated bow, the smile never leaving his.

The memory felt as though it happened yesterday, while the Queen's right hand made dinner for his new guests his smile grew at what he knew would be coming ahead. Finally peace and fun will return to the world. They just had to do something with the humans first. As he cooked an other memory flashed behind his eyes.

"I told you, fool!! Their numbers are to great to not take lightly!! The castle has fallen!! Now I have lost my kingdom twice!! I must make haste to the secret library, there must be an answer there on how to deal with the humans"
The queen said atop her horse as they rode away.

"M'lady, we must hurry than if we are to lose the army on our tails!" Thortan said keeping up on his on steed.

"No, I have sent word to Liz to lay low for now. She is awaiting word from you or me on what to do next. You must leave me now. You must go into hiding, find those gifted and hunted with no one left to help. You must help them learn, we cannot let our people die out. When I have found a solution I will summon you." She said, visibly upset.

"Self, I cannot leave you. You need my protections!!" Thortan argued. "My knowledge is unrivaled!!"

"Which is why you must go!! Use that to help those who need it. Now that is an order from your queen!!"

"As you wish m'lady!! Don't you dare die!!"

Thortan trip down memory road ended as he was setting the table. He did his best to represent each person's culture in the dishes he had made. For Lia, a hot and spice chicken accompanied by some fresh desert veggies, cactus water imported directly from the Novien desert. For himself, a thick beef stew that he had been cooking since yesterday. For Liz he put the soup bone the plate. He snickered to himself at how upset she was going to be.

[Assistant]
Liz turned to follow Thortan inside, her gaze quickly settling on the scenery. She studied the interior of the mansion just as she had the woman outside, taking in every detail...memorizing every exit, and every hiding spot. It was the involuntary process her mind launched into anytime she entered a new structure. Her own mind was not far from Thortan's, though neither of the two realized that of course. Memories of her own were flickering through her mind. The first time she had met with the Queen it was when tensions had initially risen.

It was worth noting, in Liz's own mind, that the tensions were not without merit. Whatever she had advertised it was obvious the Queen had no intention of giving the humans any real power in her envisioned empire, and it was only a matter of time before they would figure that out. Liz had seen it quickly, and she had offered her opinion without hesitation. When the Queen had laid out her vision for Liz she could not help but be impressed. It was something she could support, and so here she was.

Those early days had been full of thrills. Constant work had been rolling in for the assassin, and she had barely a moment to spare for the sake of sleep. It was ideal, for someone like her. The waiting had her restless, irritable, and anxious. She wanted to see things moving, to watch that progress the way it should. The more reclusive Kingdoms, Liz felt, were to blame. Even her own people. To name support without providing men...it seemed pointless. Had the numbers come together properly, they would have at least matched the humans more evenly, if not managed to outnumber them outright.

A hiss escaped from her nostrils as she let her mind work through the train of thought, and by the time she found herself settling at the table she was cutting that thought process off. It wasn't much use at the present moment. Even within a mansion, even with her history working as what the elves deemed a 'royal assassin', she was far from polite. Her cloak had most certainly not been removed, nor had her weapons. Her constant attire gave off the appearance of being ceaselessly ready for a fight, and yet here there should be none. The leathers, at least, were well worn in and there was none of that irritating creaking and groaning one often heard from newer leathers. She attempted to get comfortable, waiting for the food they had been promised.


[System]
Death Korp Trooper Number:
Trooper 17431

Appearance:

Height:
5'6"

Age:
27

Sex:
Male

Class:
Death Korp Grenadier

Equipment:
- Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy) -
Also known as a Hellgun or, more rarely, a Hotshot lasgun, the Type XIV (Heavy) is the standard issue weapon for all Grenadiers serving in Death Korp regiments. They are, at least by the Grenadiers themselves, intensely disliked due to perceived unreliability in the field during extended operations and a Krieger's general preference for the default Type XIV Lasgun (More commonly known outside of Krieg as the Lucian Pattern Lasgun). However, with the proper maintence that each Grenadier performs routinely, the weapon performs its intended role as a high power Lasgun, capable of punching through heavier armor and providing, on full auto, a withering rate of fire. The Type XIV (Heavy) utilizes a backpack unit to power it, and a Quick Recharge Generator included in the backpack unit is generally overtaxed, due to the design of the weapon and its power output. Ansgar, like many Grenadiers, would have preferred a Type XIV Lasgun over the Heavy variant, but as a Grenadier, he is required to carry it.

- Grenadier Carapace Armor -
Intended for deployment where the fighting is fiercest, Death Korps Grenadiers are equipped with heavy Carapace Armour that has been integrated into the standard Krieg kit. This comprises the Mark IX helmet, a rebreather facemask, three-piece shoulder guards, a chest plate with additional abdomen plates and shin and knee guards. All are made of Plasteel and reinforced with a layer of Ceramite for additional strength, heat resistance and weight reduction. The armor, coupled with uniform and Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy) makes a very heavy loadout, adding in the miscellaneous equipment they carry as well, however, the protection is vastly appreciated by the Grenadiers in general, due to their role as the leading edge in storming trenches and hostile emplacements, needing the protection to get close enough to do their jobs, not so much concerned with survival.

- Explosives -
As his former squads Demolitions expert, Ansgar carried the standard explosives load out alongside extra tools, for when the Engineers could not keep up with the assault but were preoccupied elsewhere. Besides several Frag and Krak grenades, Ansgar also has several demolition charges, rated for taking out hardened bunkers when put in place. Ansgar modified the charges so that, in a hurry, he can pull a detonation cable and heave the charge at a target, the normally delicate and precise procedure for arming the charges ditched in favor of emergency target removal. And, as a Krieg Engineer before he was assigned as a Grenadier, he has learned to build improvised explosives that served him well in the trenches when supplies on conventional explosives were running short, as well as utilize Chemical weapons safely.

- Melee Gear -
Ansgar carries two weapons for melee combat, one obligatory and the other actually used. The obligatory is his bayonet, which the Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy) lacks a mount for, another reason it remains unpopular among Grenadiers, and typically serves as much as a tool and last resort weapon than anything else. His actual go to is a Entrenching Tool, edges sharpened to allow him to carve through hostiles as well as bludgeon them, and retain the intended purpose of digging trenches and other necessary fighting positions.

Notable Deeds:
- Tyranid Assault on Thresis IV -
Raised from birth to be a Death Korp Engineer, Ansgar Staudinger, or known by his Trooper designation 17431, will never state when he was sent to war, something that tends to bother people who ask that are outsiders to Krieg and their necessary methods of providing the Imperium the soldiers it needs. Assigned fresh to an Engineering Platoon, Ansgar would spend a great deal of time digging trenches and laying mines in the defense of a Shrine World, Thresis IV, directly in the path of a Tyranid Hive Fleet Splinter. The Tyranids, despite being vastly reduced in numbers compared to a true Hive Fleet, descended like mad locusts, slaughtering over 90% of the Death Korp forces deployed on the planet. Of that 10%, Ansgar Staudinger was one of the survivors, the only from his platoon, found near death after turning an entire trench line into a raging biochemical inferno, equal parts fire and chemical weapon that was effective on the Tyranids. Sharing the compound make up with other Death Korp Engineers, the biochemical fire was used to great extent to halt and drive back the Tyranids, making the then rookie Staudinger's trial by fire a literal, and resounding, success.

- Nightmares Beneath Thrasis II -
As part of the Thrasis campaign his regiment was assigned to, and the arrival of Tyranid complicating greatly, Ansgar Staudinger was deployed with a fresh Engineering platoon to assist in the breaking of a siege on Chaos held factories on the system's forge world, Thrasis II. Utilizing conventional tunneling and, when they detected they were almost at the entry point, Hades Breaching Drill, to punch into the Chaos held Foundry, Ansgar and his fellow Guardsmen stumbled into something straight out of the most feverish of a heretic's nightmares. The Warp had bled over into the belly of the foundry, with daemons and mutants in equal measures assaulting the woefully unprepared Krieg Guardsmen. However, they had a job to do, and they were able to hold their ground, keeping a secure tunnel long enough for support to arrive and push deep enough into the Chaos corrupted foundry, to the dark heart and plant enough explosives for the resulting explosion spotted from orbit. Whether it was the sheer amount of explosives put in place, or partially due to Chaos corruption was never decided. However, as one of the only survivors again by virtue of Luck or being Blessed, Ansgar was reassigned by a surviving Commissar to the Death Korp Grenadiers.

- Hellscape of Thrasis I -
Nearing the end of the Thrasis System Campaign, Ansgar found himself a freshly minted Grenadier, no longer an Engineer although he often worked closely with them during breaching actions against enemy defensive lines. However, upon touching down on Thrasis I, the Kriegers found something unlike anything anyone could be prepared for. The Foundry was merely a foretaste of what was to come, as planet spanning rituals had allowed the Warp to taint and corrupt great stretches of the planet, forcing Guard forces to struggle through conventional defenses one day, and make a mad dash through Daemon infested hellscapes that should not be the next. What Ansgar refuses to mention to a soul, due to an oath he was put under at the end of the conflict, was the arrival of Grey Knights, of the Emperor's most holy Ordos Malleus. Alongside Adeptus Sororitas support, which Ansgar learned to have a deep, healthy respect for, the combined arms forces stormed the capital of Thrasis I, a den of pure evil and corruption that made the rest of the planet look like a Shrine World in comparison. Once again, whether by luck or the Emperor's own intervention, Ansgar found himself as one of the only Grenadiers, and Krieger's period, to survive the assaults into the city, arriving at the Hall of Governing as it had been christened during Thrasis I's founding as a colony, only to find horrors so unspeakable even the Krieg born Grenadier refuses to speak of them now. But, between the Grey Knights and Sisters of Battle alongside his own humble contributions at that point, which mostly consisted of survival, Ansgar lived to see the end of the hellish campaign on Thrasis I. With literally no regiment to return to, and having become aware of the most secretive of Space Marine chapters, it was decided to induct him into the Inquisition, sending him to serve where needed most.

[User]
" just let us know when you are going to do so, no go take your position."

"Can we start already? The more we delay, the more likely the Orks will spot us through sheer dumb-luck." Adrianne commented as the Psyker was still waiting by the door, glancing across the rest of the assembling party as they were preparing for the assault through the black, violet glowing lenses of her skull helmet.

Her fingers danced impatiently across the shaft of her staff as she let out a sigh behind her helmet, taking a few steps further away from the entrance as she was growing increasingly uncomfortable about standing near where the Orks would inevitable pour out from once they had gotten it through their thick heads that they were under attack! ... unless they somehow managed to figure the ambush out before it even happened, which would be a rarity though not impossible!

"With my powers I can slow the green tide down as they pass through the door. It should make them sitting targets for you to take down, provided you have enough firepower." The Psyker continued, before switching to Vala.

"Tech-Heretic! Do you have a bead on the Greenskin Nobz yet? The sooner we start popping heads, the better!" Adrianne said with an impatient tone.

She did not know why, but the Psyker felt an unnatural urgency in her; some unknown force was urging her forward, and she had a foreboding feeling in the back of her head telling her that with every second wasted, their future woe would only grow!

[Assistant]
" ... " Vala sighed silently as she was given orders to snipe the warboss. As far as plans went, this was surprisingly, decent one for this forsaken Imperium they had. Truth be told, Vala expected the crazy leader to tell them to charge head first into the wall of greenskins and throw their lives away in glorious combat, lucky it didn't seem that perculiar brand of zealot insanity was at play right now, no one knows for the next time though." On it." Vala replied as she broke from the group and headed for a good spot she needed to take down that warboss.

 Quickly and pretty quietly she moved around, picking a good vantage point with direct view of the warboss and quickly laid down, activating her sniper las cannon and taking aim. It came to life as she took aim at the warboss's head. Vala growled lowly at the psycher's commented.

 "In position... prepare for showdown. 3..2..1.." She informed over the comms and then pulled the grigger, unleashing the burning fury upon the warboss's head, the beam had barely finished when she ejected a heatsink powercells and took aim again. She had to wait a few seconds for it to cooldown and she can safely fire again.

[User]
The sharp whip and hiss of the tech-heretic's overpowered weapon caused a silence to fall upon the entire building, as the blundering greenskin in the other room slowly became aware that one of their warbosses's had just become one head smaller.

... and was currently very dead.

"DA BOZZ IS DEAD!"
"I'Z DA BOSS!"
"'UMIEZ!"
"SMASH 'DEM!"
"WAAAGH!"

The Ork's response was nothing short of predictable, as a the entire Horde within the main chamber turned around and surged towards the narrow entrance leading to the party.

"I will slow them down." Adrianne said before she stepped out, pointing her staff towards the ground at the entrance that the green tide was falling through!

With mystic words that seemed to echo unnaturally across the chamber, the ground where the greenskin passed through became distorted; the physical laws becoming confused as gravity began to push and tug in random, constantly shifting directions; as if the xenos had suddenly became caught up in a set of invisible waves pounding and disorienting them from every direction!
Green brutes would slam onto the ground, into each other or fall ten feet up into the air before slamming down! To greenskin resilience, it was hardly major damage beyond a rough ride; except for the occasional Ork who slammed into the spiky bits of another, but the resulting invisible waves caused the Orcs to become bogged down and clumped together in the narrow exit, creating a bottle neck.

"That was eas,-"

"FWHOOM"
"WHAAAAAAAAA!"

Adrianne was about to comment with a smirk behind her skeletal mask as she stepped aside and back behind cover, just as the roaring sound of a rocket could be heard as an Ork stormboy just flew over the mess and into their room; the suicidal greenskin strapped to a live rocket!

"Oh, uhhh... incoming from above!"

[Assistant]
Ansgar remained silent while waiting for the time to act, and he was not terribly fond of waiting. The tech heretic had dropped the Ork Warboss, only to have another Ork promptly take over and start barking more orders that boiled down to attack the team. The psyker decided to step in and began rallying her powers and sent the ground bound Orks stumbling and staggering about, disorganizing them and forcing them to funnel into a narrow throughway. Perfect, the Krieger smirked under his rebreather, as he ignited the nozzle of the flamer, moving within range of the Orks starting to pick themselves up and resumed pushing forward. "Engaging ground bound Orks, stand clear."

With that warning, Ansgar sent a gout of chem laced flames pouring into the front ranks of the Orks, much to an extremely immediate effect. Anyone too close to the fumes, and lacking protection, would be subjected to a burning sensation in their eyes, throat, and general skin irritation, with amplified results as exposure lasted longer. The Orks coated in the green tinged flames wouldn't stop burning, the flamer fuel self oxidizing when burning through living organic material. Originally he'd used the mixture against Tyranids, but it worked against Orks just fine as well, due to their exposed hide. For that reason, alongside setting a rocket on fire as it plummeted towards their ranks being a bad idea, meant he focused his efforts on the Orks not with rocket packs.

"Will suppress until Rocket Orks dealt with." Ansgar didn't know if the rocket Orks had a specific name or not, so he just referred to them as what they were, Orks with Rockets bolted to their backs. Any Orks bold enough to approach within range of the Krieger's flamer was quickly doused in fire, which would likely send them to the ground since their flesh was literally burning away and nothing they did would smother it.