[System]
John Jorgen
Nickname/Alias: The Historian, Professor, John
Race: Julliak
Age: 672
Ethnicity: What's an ethnicity?
Gender: Male
Appearance:

In their natural form, Julliaks appear to be very very tall (about 9 feet) bipedal humanoids with gaunt features, as though their skin were stretched tight against their bones. They have no hair to speak of, no mouths, and natural skin pigment ranges anywhere between deep blood red to albino white. All their eyes are green. Joniminum is a particularly light shade of red (but not pink!). Of course, that's his natural form as a Julliak, but he spends most of his time in the guest-friendly human form he shapeshifts into. In his human form, John looks like a male in his mid-forties with receding black hair styled straight back. No matter the time of day, he always has a five o'clock shadow. This form is six feet tall, well built, and always with a friendly twinkle in his eye even when annoyed.
Clothing: Black suit, dark blue button-up shirt, black tie.

In The Mind

Personality: Studious, wise, friendly, and engaging. John loves people and science. Used to be whole-heartedly devoted to the Galatec cause but only because he kept himself locked away in his labs and remained ignorant to the effect they were having on the people they "helped."
Likes: Computers, science, history, humanity, culture, legends
Dislikes: Wastefulness, malicious intent, tyranny, animal abuse
Fears: That he won't make a difference, his rangers being lost to battle, sharks
Quirks: Likes to shake hands when seeing someone even if they've met before, straightens his tie a lot

Where They've Been

History: Born on home world. Liked science and the idea of progress. Joined Galatec for great benefits and access to lots of research potential. Came to New Earth, studied humanity's history. Became enamored with human culture. Bad stuff went down. Faked his death and stole morpher technology. Setup base with Samara.
Talents: Computers, robotics, galaxy's foremost expert on the Morphin Grid, not bad in a fist fight.
Hindrances: Not good at coping with loss
Powers: Shape-shifting. Julliak shape-shifting is not nearly as fluid or varied as other forms of shape-shifting. A julliak needs to design a form on paper and study the biology, obtaining an understanding of all biological functions of the design, and burning a lot of calories making the change. It takes a lot of time and effort.
Equipment: Classified

Bonus Round

Quotes: "It's up to you." "Time to be a hero." "In the proud tradition of humanity."
Theme Song: Maybe later
Aspiration: To be able to use his studies for the beneficial progression of people everywhere, and to be able to come home again.

[User]
As Mable wrote her name in the notepad, her pink eyes widened like an owl's as she saw the message. "Red Rock?..." She glanced at the Githkin's face, only just now actually looking at it. "You aren't a fan at all, are you?" She asked. "I've been on the sidelines since this conflict started, waiting for something to happen." Mable handed the notepad back to the Githkin, just as her manager scrambled over. "Just a fan Joo-Joo, calm down.~" Mable waved the Githkin off politely and began to walk away. She was having trouble keeping her breathing easy, and her blue cheeks had begun to flush purple. Things had finally moved into gear in this city, and she was more excited than she'd been in years.

She tried to focus on her concert, the lyrics and dance routine she had crammed so hard to learn, but it was hard to care about any of it at the moment. She wanted to leave right now and do something, but she couldn't. She gripped her pounding chest and let out an anxious breath. "I'm gonna go crazy if I miss this."

[Assistant]
Tommy was somewhat taken aback by how fast things were going. This morning he went off to work expecting SOMETHING to happen, the managers and githkin, ignorant of his free will, had mentioned such things around him. However, he didn't expect to be at the center of a second rebellion.

His eyes grew larger as he saw Jonah morphing, and then Clementine. It looked so... FUN!!! Ok well, this was a serious moment and he knew he had to treat it as such, but still, it looked fun! No better motivator when entering a battle untrained and unprepared than fun!

"Don't get your panties in a knot there Jonah, I'm getting to it!" Said Tommy, smiling at the both of them. He strapped the morpher to his arm and reached forward. "Strike Force, Flash Forward!"

In much the same manner as the other two had morphed, Tommy was covered in a haze of pixels and blue light. This light however was much different from Galatec's horrible lights of despair, this light was more like a light of glory and righteousness. Within seconds he was enclosed in his own armor. It was a strange feeling... he didn't feel frail or weak like he usually did, constantly hungry and tired. He felt... strong. Stronger than any regular human should feel.

"Oliver, this is amazing!" He said, turning to his friend. "We have to save Micheal though, whoever that is, so we gotta get moving."

[User]
Oliver stared at the device he was given. He was still unsure if he was the right choice for the job. Watching as the others morphed into their respective colors made Oliver excited. When he heard the words come out of Tommy's mouth it made him feel a little more secure. He strapped the device around his wrist and began his morphing process.

Holding his wrist out in front of him he said, "Strike Force, Flash Forward!" A form of pixels and light appeared in front of him emitting from the green stone. Oliver curiously reached out to it, and when he touched it the light and pixels started enveloping around his body shining brightly. When the light finally dimmed Oliver could be seen standing there covered from top to bottom in a powerful suit.

He could feel the strength of the suit and the light it produced cleared his mind of any doubt he had earlier. He looked up to his fellow rangers and said, "This is-is-absolutely awesome. I feel so much stronger." He turned back to John and Samara when he remembered about Michael, "Don't worry about Micheal. Will make sure he and the everyone else is safe."

[Assistant]
The githkin did not respond to Mable's words, nor react in any way. In fact, once she had handed back the book it simply turned round and left. Gajoon appeared to be quite relieved as he wiped away some... Wait, could Cephapodians sweat? Well regardless, he made the motion of wiping sweat from his brow and looked all the happier for it. Since Mable was concerned with her own thoughts, and the githkin was either too stupid or too impolite, the pop star's manager went through the trouble of closing a simple wooden door. Really, what was the world coming to?

"Miss Love, are you alright?" he asked, approaching Mable. "You're looking awfully flushed."

He then gasped, covering his mouth with four tentacle-hands as his eyes opened wide. "Please tell me you're not having doubts about the concert? You're still in top condition, right? OH GOD WHAT DID THAT GITHKIN WANT?! WE'RE RUINED, I JUST KNOW IT!"

Jackson went back to work without a care in the world, and why should he be bothered by anything? Things were going so splendid, weren't they? The drill was handling like a charm, too. Work continued just like that for another four hours. In that time Jackson only had to stop drilling once when he ran into a gas pocket, so they had to get it cleaned up to protect the workers. A single spark from those axes, or his drill, and it could have led to a pretty massive explosion. And that's where Jackson found himself now, standing back behind some specialty workers that were using some kind of Galatec designed machines to siphon away the natural gas pocket.

Jackson...

...What?

Jackson...

Something... Something was... Talking to him? It sounded like a voice, a soft and hushed whisper. Female. For some reason it reminded Jackson of buttermilk icing on cake. But where was it coming from? Nearby the twin sisters, the spotters, stood having their own conversation. Unlike Jackson, they didn't get to take a short break while the cleanup crew worked. They had to keep on coming the walls with small instruments and sensors, looking for potential valuables. Standing right behind them was the same githkin that had been watching over Jackson's crew today, looking... Bored? Could githkin look bored? It was so hard to tell with those mouthless faces.

As soon as her orders were given, everyone practically jumped to follow them. The assistants plugged away at their computers to send out the order for the missing slaves' families to be rounded up. Drax didn't waste any time in immediately leaving to the supervisors' dormitories, damaging the door in the process. Foreman Jo'ones gave her a nod and saluted with his brand new arms, then took off without a word. Githkin XJ-47 likewise left without any sort of acknowledgement nor response. It was the way of his kind, after all, to obey without question and without hesitation.

"Ma'am, the order is complete," said the female assistant.

"Cameras show a group of rebels are nearing this office. Shall I activate the security measures?" inquired the male. It may have seemed a silly question, but the facility policy did indicate that the office security was only to be activated if approved by the foreman or a representative with equal authority, and Galatec was nothing if not a stickler for the fine print.

The android charged toward his target without hesitation, and quickly found himself in the middle of a large battle between two githkin and seven rebels. The githkin, sensing their general's approach, dove out of the way. The rebels had an altogether different response.

"It's Adelram Drax!" shouted one of them, holding up a pickaxe as his primary weapon. "Destroy him!"

The rebels all assaulted Drax. The leader attacked with his pickaxe, while another leapt at him with a baseball bat. Two more shot at the robot with old shotguns, while another two fired small pistols. The seventh was armed with a laser blaster but never got the opportunity to shoot, as Drax simply barreled through the entire group, completely unharmed, and disappeared around the corner. Drax's CPU computed a 92.3% chance that any survivors would be near instantly rounded up and/or executed by the two githkin they had previously engaged.

A minute after this altercation and Drax found himself at the dormitories just outside of Shplorn's room. She stood in the doorway while the three githkin there, two regulars and one elite, held their heads in confusion. They were being given contradicting orders and while normally the orders of Regional Manager Ruthalia would take precedence, Ruth had severed the connection while Shplorn kept trying. Drax had seen this before, but it was irrelevant to his mission.

As soon as Drax was in her sight, Shplorn's eyes opened wide. She threw her arms up into the air in a complete surrender, allowing Drax's energy wave to easily scoop her up. At the same time he was able to grab the three githkin, and could carry all four in his massive arms without too much difficulty. However as soon as he held the four, his Situation Awareness Sensor picked up a presence behind him. One of Division Alpha, a man about thirty years old wearing some impressive (for scavenged) metal battle armor and holding a plasma blaster in his hand. He had the look of a warrior about him, a man that enjoyed the fighting.

"Drop Shplorn, rust bucket, or you'll need a whole lot more than a paint job when I'm through with you!"

It was an interesting and poetic thought, if the githkin died with smiles just like the slaves they worked to death. Of course without context it made absolutely no sense seeing as the species had no mouths, but that's neither here nor there. Michael risked his life, everything, to break cover in the firefight long enough to shoot at a githkin with his pistol. His index finger squeezed that trigger, which in turn set the mechanisms of this ancient machine in motion to ignite the powder inside a small metal tube. The resulting bang was a microcosm of the situation Michael had found himself in. He was just a small metal tube inside a larger, more complex machine, and now he was being hurled toward a danger he understood only too well.

The bullet left the barrel of the gun and struck true, hitting the githkin square in the chest. The creature recoiling about a quarter of a foot, but it let out no grunt or cry of pain, nor did its hand reach to the wound by instinct. Instead it focused entirely on the source of the shot, its eyes meeting Michael's. His eyes were more concerned with that bullet wound, or lack thereof. The bullet had hit it, certainly, but flattened uselessly against the creature's hardened skin, leaving behind only a small bruise.

Uh oh.

One by one, each of the youths transformed using the morphers they had been provided. The rush, the force, the power, it was so... Was there even a word for this kind of experience? Whatever it was, it felt fantastic! With each transformation they had not only an influx of power, but an influx of knowledge. It was a little bit disorienting at first, but something they could quickly recover from. Each one instantly knew the capabilities they had as a ranger, from their weapons, to their enhanced abilities, to their unique ability granted by the suit. Oh happy day.

"I tinkered with these morphers' designs a little bit and added my own touch. When you came into contact with the Morphin Grid, it should have downloaded your suit's entire skill set directly into your minds. Years worth of training in a single data stream, hahaha." John smiled, making eye contact with each one of the four that stood before him, then gave his final words before seeing them off. "Time to be a hero and save your red ranger. Power Rangers Strike Force, move out!"

Once the four got going into the door Samara had opened up for them, they could feel even more of the power granted by their suits. The tunnels ahead held challenges, though. It was time to see how they'd handle it.

Once the rangers departed, John shook all over, his composure suddenly vanishing. Samara knew that he put on a brave and confident face in even the worst of times, but he still had his own doubts. Right now fear was showing all over his face.

"Right, we need to get more power to the RDS. These generators are not going to cut it. The charge time is too long for large teleportations like that." He quickly paced around, thinking and thinking. With a mind like his, thousands of thoughts would race through and be contemplated, but he didn't seem to like any of them. After several moments, he came to a stop.

"I have an idea if the generators don't recharge in time... But I don't like it and I doubt you will either."


[System]
* Age: 17 years old
* Gender: Male
* Race: Human
* Appearance: Standing 5' 11" and a sleek 155 lbs, Lucas carries himself with the graceful posture of both an athlete and an artist. His smile is polite and unassuming, his eyes are bright and steel-coloured, and his hair is as white as snow.
* Personality: Although a little withdrawn in light of the relatively recent death of his parents, Lucas is slowly but surely returning to his old self: A warm and friendly young man who will always seek to raise his friends spirits, whether it's with an unfunny joke or an arm around the shoulder and an open ear. He also has an odd quirk of being fearless. Not courageous, no - courage requires the presence of fear - but complete fearlessness. Danger simply does not move him. He has somewhat of a darker side that went undiscovered until he started weapons training... he does like to 'talk a little trash,' seeking to press the emotional buttons of his opponent and get them off their game. It is a little jarring to witness, for anyone that knows him, to see him in this arrogant and malicious state. Aside from that, he likes card games, climbing trees and reading books about heroic deeds, adventure and rescuing princesses.
* Brief Backstory: Lucas Storm was born to Penny and Harold aka 'The Storms' - a double act in a travelling circus troupe that lived on the roads of Thain. They were not quite the main event, but between Penny's acrobatics and Harold's knife-throwing expertise, the two had their act down to a tee and made a good living at the top of the card. Lucas however, had shot into stardom as a gifted trapeze artist and worked with his parents friends often as the main event. Every night he risked his life to entertain the audience, and strangely the dizzying heights or the danger had never even slightly bothered the boy, not even the first time.

Life was good. Simple, yes, but contented and full of love. Living on the road meant one was always an outsider and so the troupe had a trust and loyalty between them that went beyond community. More like family. They looked out for each other, lied for each other (certainly when thieves and pickpockets in the troupe began to make their extra money off the current town,) and they would no-doubt die for each other... something many of them eventually did. This circus life would indeed come to an end when they were assaulted in Velt by slaver unit. The troupe resisted as best they could, but were no match for amply-armed slavers. Many of them died, including Lucas' parents, Penny and Harold. Lucas was taken prisoner and caged, ready for sale.

No more than three days after Lucas was thrown into a cage, the slaver encampment was set upon by a mercenary band who captured the place after a bloody battle. Lucas was awestruck as a hero straight out of one of his books, fought evil men valiantly and freed him from the cage. That man, he would find out, was Gerard Segremors. From that day forward, Lucas Storm wanted to be a hero, like in his books. A hero like Gerard Segremors. His first act a free person again, was to go to the quartermaster of the mercenary band and request to be recruited. Perhaps the quartermaster took note of the young lad's strong body and graceful gait. Perhaps it was the look of determination and fearlessness in his eyes. For whatever reason, Lucas' request was accepted and he began training under the quartermaster.

This life as a mercenary did not last long however, as no more than some weeks - maybe months - later, the mercenary band was dissolved and folded into the military arm of the Church. Lucas didn't care, he simply waited to see what Gerard would do, and when his idol joined the Blades of Iron Roses, Lucas followed him into the order.

Now, Lucas finds himself training under a real regiment, in an order of knights where he might truly become a hero from his books - a hero like Gerard Segremors. And he works hard to make it happen.
* Equipment: A set of battered plate mail. A longsword. All standard basic Order issue. He likes to carry several daggers on his person, preferably balanced for throwing or using in a tight situation.
* Skills: Free-climbing. Juggling. Dizzying acrobatics. Knife throwing. Hold Em Poker. Pickpocketing. Cheering friends up. Sneaking.

[User]
Sergio della Gherardesca

Having changed out of his armour, and given it to the smith for repairs and polishing, the Knight had dressed himself into his usual outfit of choice for outside wear. On top of his white frilled silk shirt, a three buttoned, long tailed jacket flowed past his waist and toward his legs, bright gold accents and a fiery red dye made him positively shine in the daylight, the sleeves tight around his wrists. He adjusted his black neckerchief as he strode out of Candaeln, his red hair tied back to keep from obscuring his vision, lest a malevolent gust of wind were to sabotage a perfectly lovely conversation.

He stood tall, smiling as he was finally able to see the sun's light in all its glory, with his helmet off - the thought of the moon rising later made him ever the more excited. It was these tiny things that made R&R so wonderful.

As he stepped across the bridge, still mesmerised by the day, he absentmindedly nearly walked into Lein.

[Assistant]
Fionn MacKerracher

---

@Psyker Landshark

---

Luckily, Renar, Tyaethe, and Sergio hadn't needed any back-up by the time he got over; those few who were rejecting any offer of surrender quickly rounded up and dispatched by the time he got back over the burning log. Afterwards, he'd done his part in rounding up the prisoners, disposing of bodies, and the trip back had been relatively uneventful. Taking turns with Gerard to display Jeremiah's sword as another symbol of their victory as they passed various villages, or after re-entering the capital city, was the most work that really came to them as their column rode along.

Otherwise, he stuck near the back of the pack, riding alongside the cart that carried Rickert's corpse rather than making conversation with the others. The satisfaction he'd felt at helping fell the bandit king had rapidly diminished as he thought more about the rest of the battle; less due to the losses they'd sustained, which were themselves rather minimal, but more the nature of the battle itself. Surprises could never be avoided, they were almost to be expected, but the fact that a griffin had been unleashed upon them as it had was beyond anything he'd experienced before. Beyond that, though, was the general disregard the bandits seemed to show for each other, from using their least equipped and experienced to try and man the ambush, to Jeremiah callously dropping a tree atop his own forces in his mad search for some sort of vengeance against the knights.

To his estimation, to his understanding of tactics, they didn't fight like they wanted to win. Their leadership, at least, fought like they wanted to die, and that fostered nothing but disquiet in his soul.

By the time they made it back to the capitol, however, he seemed to have reconciled the events with his understanding and feelings well enough, starting to make his gregarious rounds through the ranks of the knights when not taking duty holding aloft the bandit king's oversized blade. Once back in the keep proper he'd quickly run to doff his traveling clothes and find something cleaner and more comfortable—and stow the singed and tattered cloak he'd have to figure out some way to salvage—before retrieving the bardiche he'd purloined from the bandit forces and starting to make his way down to the armoury and smithy...

...Utterly unsurprised to spot someone else along the way, who he'd already spotted moving to corner their bard just as he'd been making his way to his quarters. Normally he might let her pass along uninterrupted, but given they seemed to have the same general destination and Fionn was hoping that the conversation might go better than their last:

"Finished cowing our compatriots for the day?"

Why not call out to her, and see if some of her humour might start to show again now that they were free of battle?

"I think I saw Renar gathering his things to come this way as well. Care to wait for him?" He flashed her a small grin. "I don't know about either of you, but I think it would do me good to hear the unofficial recounting of your parts of the battle, and I don't think either of you are the type to shy away from giving that unofficial truth."

[User]
Success.

They had crushed the bandits utterly. Slain the wicked man who called himself their King. The people of Aimlenn, the people of Thaln, were thankful.

Their duty to the weak, the defenseless, had been fulfilled.

A captain should be proud of their success. Introspection wasn't uncalled for, but surely a battle ending with only a single casualty and the enemy utterly destroyed should be treated as a rousing victory.

And yet...

The golden-headed knight-captain departed from the others without much aside from a confirmation of their good performance. It was not their fault.

Surely, surely, the blame lay on her shoulders.

Sir Rickert should not have perished. The battle should not have ended with even a single death among the knights. She could have done something differently. She should have done something differently. Saint Elionne had crushed the Vos Korvungand, destroyed the great heathen army without a single death among her forces.

This shouldn't have happened.

The image of Sir Rickert hewn apart in a single stroke remained in her mind.

Candaeln's courtyard was a popular place, both for simple reading and relaxation and for training. But it was also the home of the pointed, curved structure that was the fortress's shrine. An integrated structure designed for the worship of both Goddesses, it sported stained glass windows of intertwined lillies and roses, a tiered garden of both plants, and a sacred pool and eternal flame for prayer.

It was here that Fanilly made her way to, still clad in her armor.

The young girl's voice came out in a heavy sigh, her eyes travelling up the garden and towards its peak. There stood a pair of statues. The slender frame of Reon, her blade held crossed over her chest and her spear projecting downwards, and beside her Mayon, taller, her hands at her sides and holding a mirror and a bow.

With the clanking of her gleaming armor, Fanilly plucked a lily and cast it into the flames. Then, she took a rose and crumpled its petals into the water.

Then she knelt before the shrine, hands clutched together in prayer.

"E vanna ney sienne. Oh, goddesses. Please, let the lamps light his way safely. May he find peace and bliss within your domain, so that his death may be eased. May he find the happiness he so earned."

First and foremost of all was the prayer for Sir Rickert. It was all she could do, even as she cursed herself for that fact, now that he was no longer with the living.

"... May those who fought with honor be blessed. May we find further success in protecting the weak and defeating the wicked. May your blessing shine upon all who seek to do good."

To request the goddess's continued support in their endeavors, too, was natural.

She had to do everything she could.

[Assistant]
The sight of each and every rescued prisoner who split off from the Iron Rose column - freedom in hand and opportunity to start anew or return to what they'd been snatched from... the sight of Fionn and Gerard, each and every time, holding up the gargantuan sword of Jeremiah - a symbol of triumph that onlookers would cheer and celebrate...

It all made everything worth it.

The pain and injuries, the danger, the horrific nature of bloody combat, the up-close and personal displays of death... every moment of that awful night was worth these rewards.

Follow orders. Don't die.

He'd managed it. Just barely (in fact, Reon may well have been carrying him through it all, such was his luck) but he had indeed made it through his first mission. On the left flank he rode, mismatched with the dozens of bodies in shining full plate and helms to boot, he might have been mistaken for one of the rescued. Those who observed me in action might mistake me too, he thought with a smile. It was a tired smile. He was exhausted. But happiness filled him. After the battle was over, he'd looked around and saw some familiar figures in the band had made it through alive, including all of Paladin Tyaethe's team. The griffin was amongst the corpses, body still tethered by the chain. After a little tense anticipation, he eventually had visual confirmation on the health and wellbeing of one Sir Gerard Segremors. All was said and done. The Iron Rose's list of injuries was short, and there had been only one casualty. A successful first foray for the new Knight-Captain. Good for her. Good for the Iron Roses. Good for all that is good.

In the city, passing over the moat and through the gate of Candaeln was a treat that Lucas thought might never get old. The knight's eyes drew upward as they entered the courtyard, his expression full of appreciation for such splendour. Once they were dismissed, Lucas went to his room and collapsed on his bed a moment, staring at the ceiling. The moment of solitude and oppressive silence hastily brought back memories of the screams. Of blood coughed into his face as he watched the light in his enemy's eyes disappear. It suddenly occurred to him that, in spite of his exhaustion, sleep may not come so easy.

Each piece of his patchwork armour he removed, looked like armour looted from a corpse. Random pieces of plate and leather, full of knicks, dents, rips and cuts. His heavy leather jerkin was slashed an unnerving amount of times, nevertheless he placed it reverently on the armour dummy, then stepped back and looked at it pridefully. After that, he changed into more casualwear; a white open-throat shirt with some simple black pants and boots.

Not really knowing what to do with himself, only knowing that he needed to be somewhere that was busy enough to distract him, he found himself in the mess hall. After grabbing an excessive amount of food, he sat down at one of the long tables, giving a comradely nod to anyone he made eye contact with. Then, his nose reminded his stomach how bloody hungry he was and he tucked in.


[System]
Appearance: A monster of a man, standing at nearly 7' tall with shoulders wide enough to make some doors hard for him to fit through, Osmund looks like he would be more at home behind a forge or on a hunting boat with his brown skin the colour of beaten bronze. Build like a brickhouse, shoulders like boulders and a chest like a barrel, he looks built for wrestling with Tetsucabra and Barroth. His kind eyes are a dull blue, leaning more towards grey and his nose has a hump to it, looking slightly broken and twisted. His hair is shaven into a short, frayed mohawk. He has the drooping, pointed ears and chiselled facial features characteristic of those from his family and families like it, Smithies. He tries to stay clean-shaven, but often can be seen wearing a five-o'clock shadow or rugged stubble.

Race: Same as 'The Man'.

Age: 25

Sex: Male.

Rank: High Rank.

Weapons/Armor: Axelion Blade (Charge Blade), Nitro Boost Hammer (Hammer) and the Diablos Armor Set.

Palicoes: None.

Personality: Osmund is not the smartest. He isn't exactly dumb, but he's no genius. Quiet and stoic, he speaks when speaking is needed and when he feels that his words will matter, but rarely speaks otherwise. He is kind, he is fond of smiling and is not above engaging in a hearty laugh. Most of the time he is just one to have fun, not overly concerned with getting bogged down by his problems or worries. Easy-going is a very good descriptor of his usual personality.

When in battle, he is a silent giant swinging his weapon with enough force to put down even the toughest of monsters... eventually. A tranquil storm upon the field, his temper can sometimes get the best of him, leading him to launch into a berserk rage. Normally he takes care to mind his teammates when swinging his weapon about, but when he's mad he relinquishes some of this composure and control. This anger switch seems to become more sensitive depending on how large the monster in question is.

History: Osmund comes from a family of craftsmen. He's the youngest of 5 children, but also the biggest. His lifelong ambition was to take to the field and hunt for his own materials with which to forge his hunting equipment. He didn't plan too much further than that. As said before, he isn't so bright. When he got into the hunting life he just sort of, stuck there after taking a shine to it. It put food on the table, money in his pocket and prestige in his name. Eventually he abandoned smithing and such altogether, becoming a full-time hunter. His family is saddened at his leaving of the family business, but pleased that he has found his place in the world and something that he is good at. Hunting has become who he is to such a great extent that he has nearly forgotten his past trade, but he seems to know most of the craftsmen around rather well.

Other:
Theme-songs: Normally and then Angry.

[User]
The wailing shriek of a Great Jaggi takes his last breath as it falls to the ground with a thump. His body was covered in many slashes and had already lost a lot of blood. The smaller, regular, Jaggies and Jaggia hiss as they retreat back into the bushes. Standing proudly on him, her left foot on the corpse, Cynthia looks down upon her opponent. She had faced many of these Great Jaggies in the past, so this was no biggie. Even the battle seemed boring for her. Beside her was her trusted felyne palico, Tybalt, the same one that assisted Cynthia's father almost 10 years ago.

"God damnit..." she sighs with dissatisfaction as she turns back to the way she came, "These Great Jaggies are all too easy. Where are all the big monsters?"

Tybalt's nose twitches as he checks the fallen foe for its scales.

"You know quite well that you won't find them here, nya...." answers the Palico as he picks up a Jaggi scale, "The meownsters are father off, deeper into the Western Schrade. You'll rarely find them this close to Minegarde."

"I know Tybalt, I know. Besides, the quest wanted us to kill a Great Jaggi anyways. There hadn't been many quests that have to hunt bigger monsters these days. Like I wouldn't mind to hunt a Rathalos or a Tigrex or... I don't know, a Barroth or something."

"I'm sure they'll come soon, nya? Just be patient. Now please... help me skin the Jaggi's hide."

Cynthia nods as she begins helping Tybalt skin the Great Jaggi before heading back to Minegarde.

[Assistant]
Alice stomped off of the boat and in to the small town of Minegarde, her arms crossed, grumbling to herself. She had sheathed across her back her Long Sword, Usurper's Boltstriker, which was still glowing after her hunt. It was a capture quest for a Gobul, and oddly, she never bothered to use her Shock Trap or any of her Tranq Bombs. She had only one fate in mind for that smelly fish: Death. A few weeks ago, she had been transferred by the Hunter's Guild to Minegarde from her home town of Port Tanzia due to complaints from hunting parties she had joined. She growled with anger as she remembered the letter that had sent her off...

Dear Mrs. Alice Yagami,

We have recieved an alarming number of regular complaints about your behaviors while partaking in capture quests. These complaints include, but are not limited to you seemingly killing the required monster purposefully, with the goal of capture clear in your mind. Because of this, we have decided to relocate you to the town of Minegarde, where you will hopefully pick up the art of the capture from native hunters. As consolation for your relocation, the guild has also decided to provide you with free Trap Tools and Tranq Bombs should you need them.

Regards,
The Hunter's Guild.

Shamba scurried off the boat, joining his master's side. "Try not to fret-alaka, Alice," he consoled. "As young Shakalaka, Shamba master dance much more slower than Priest-alaka. With practice and much work, Shamba become best young dancer in village!"

Alice waved her companions words away and took a seat near the tavern, where she began to pull out two hunks of raw meat. "Alright Shamba, sit. Lunch time." Shamba obediently sat cross-legged in front of Alice, closing his eyes for a bout of meditation. Alice meanwhile set the meat on the makeshift spit that was Shamba's mask, slowly turning the meat above the coals.

[User]
Minegarde.

Why.

----
Elize Abbott, daughter of a bow user, daughter of a man who died to this blazing black dragon, a bow user herself, a woman who almost died to the Deviljho, hated bugs.

She made it her mission, no, her purpose to kill every bug she saw. Most of the time it was stepping on them, hitting them with an arrow, whatever way she could, she killed those little ugly things.

She just stepped on a bug.

Hooray.

Elize sighed. Today was a slow day. She had wanted to go capture a monster, but some hunter took the quest right before her. She then was going to hunt, but some other hunter took that quest from her too, and the rest were just collecting things. So, today being dumb, Elize decided to rest for a day. There weren't any good quests lately, as well.

After she stepped on that bug, she looked in the direction of where Matt usually was and said, "Matt? Are you cooking something?"

"Yes! I'm cooking some fresh meat, nya."

Meat?

Meat.

She'll wait.

[Assistant]
Aahhh, Minegarde. Such a spartan, dusty mess of a town. It was hard for Osmund to believe he had arrived at the correct place as he jumped out from the back of the caravan he was travelling with. The caravan bobbed as his significant weight left it, his sand-coloured Diablos armour clattering as his heavy boots hit the floor. This place was so different to his home of Loc-Lac, but he wasn't fussed with complaining about it. He was always taught to respect authority, and when the Hunter's Guild says reassignment, he was damn sure going to follow through with that reassignment.

Well, as always, the first thing to do when he came to a new port was to check with the local stores and crafts. The smiths, the general store, the other traders, everyone. Osmund wanted to become familiar with all of the people he was going to be working alongside before actually setting out to work in this new locale. The smell of burning coals and hot iron brought him back to his home, before being overpowered by the smell of the arid desert air and the scents of food from the canteen and tavern. From all over the immediate area, he seemed to draw stares from the old, young and middle-aged alike. This he was used to, as it was territory that came with his significant size.

His stomach growled at him like an angry Rathian, and he patted it with a gigantic hand. Might as well christen this new locale with his first meal. Tromping over to the food scents, he rejoiced silently as he found that they made his favourite dish. Fried King Turkey with a side of stuffed Queen Shrimp, helped him to keep that shield up and stand his ground for as long as he needed to. Food kept him on his feet and kept him hunting, so you could never have enough. He ordered a large plate as he took a seat, looking over his massive shoulder at the women nearby, one sat upon the floor and another standing off to the side. They looked to be hunters, judging by their gear and company.

Osmund looked to the two of them and gave a stiff nod of the head, raising a hand to both acknowledge them and greet. A deep voice rumbled from within him, like the sound of an Uragaan snoring.

"Greetings."


[System]
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Nationality: Coalition
Callsign/Codename: "Doughboy"
Kills: 5

Psychological Analysis: An intensely moral person with a penchant for philosophy and poetry, Alex's personality is largely consumed with his efforts to be what he calls 'a good person'. He tries to be infallibly pleasant to absolutely everyone he meets, tending more towards appeasement when it comes to interpersonal conflict - as a result, he's fairly bad at standing up for himself. He's deeply extroverted and more than a little bit spacy; his attention tends to flit from subject to subject without really settling.

Employment Record: Born a citizen of a highly industrial Coalition world, Alex discovered his love of family and community at a young age. Though he lived with his two younger sisters and his parents in conditions of financial struggle, the support of their neighbors was enough to keep them from going over the brink into poverty, just as they supported their neighbors.

Though both his sisters showed a great knack for education, Alex struggled; it quickly became apparent that he was far too flighty for academia, barely being able to pay attention long enough to complete the simplest of arithmetic. At the age of fifteen, he left school and began working in one of his planet's many weapons factories to support his family. Immediately, he began to show great talent in the operating of industrial machinery, and by the age of seventeen (with the recommendation of some family friends) he became the youngest in the factory's history to be allowed to pilot an industrial MAS, used for heavy lifting, loading and unloading the instruments of war that the factory produced.

He worked in this way for two years, becoming comfortable with the machine he was granted control of. Then, disaster struck - a band of interstellar pirates, lusting after the military-grade weapons the factory produced, attempted to rob Alex's workplace and be gone before law enforcement could arrive: a get-in, get-out, get-rich scheme. Their plan worked perfectly... except for the part where they caught tied down fighting a kid in a civilian suit who'd grabbed a finished plasma sword off the assembly line. That likely caught them by surprise, and they were promptly apprehended at the scene of the crime.

Unfortunately, large sections of the factory were destroyed in the raid, and both Alex and his parents were downsized. With his parents out of work and his sisters dreaming of higher education, Alex took the one job available to him that could support his family: piloting a mech for the Steel hunters.

Equipment: Carries a .22 caliber revolver and a book of his favorite poems.

As pictured, but with the weapons described below - also, painted entirely in varying shades of green.
Designation: CMS-110-5, "The Viking" (Custom)
Role: Close-Quarters Assault
Chassis: Medium.
Engine: Quad Core, 20 PWR.
Operating Time: 12 Hours.
Description: Alex's highly modified job on the Gowser chassis. Designed to be an up-close-and personal monster, the model largely sacrifices flight capabilities and long-range firepower in exchange for land speed, durability, and close-range prowess.
Systems: DR-1X Pattern 35mm Assault Rifle: A weapon designed for high rate of fire and armor-piercing capabilities, it is capable of shredding through enemy plating with sustained, close-range fire. Its poor accuracy means that strategy for its use at a distance can best be described as 'close your eyes and pray'. Held with both hands when in use - can he holstered on the mech's back when not. Includes a long alloy bayonet at the front for melee combat. Fires on semi-auto at 650 RPM from a 250 capacity Mag. 7 WT, 2 PWR.
E-982 Class Hybrid Axe: A broad single-headed alloy waraxe with a plasma edge. Ideal for melee combat. Can be sheathed on the side of the mech when not in use. 3 WT, 5 PWR.
P-960 .50mm Anti Personnel Cannon: Shoulder mounted wide-barrel machine gun that sprays small caliber fire wildly at the ground in front of the mech. Makes up for in rate of fire what it loses in accuracy. Fires at 1500 RPM from an auto-loaded 500 round mag. 1 WT, 0 PWR.
Optimized Alloy Plating: The Viking supplements its shields with increased plating, making it incredibly durable. 5 WT.
Overcharged Civilian Grade Shield: The rough equivalent of a Class 2 Shield. 5 WT, 7 PWR.
Enhanced Fist Plating: The armor on the Viking's hands is even further plated in a simulation of knuckle dusters. Lends a great deal of power and protection to a punch. 2 WT.
Steel Hunters Mechanical Specialization: +5 WT.

Inventory: None, currently.

Funds: 500 Credits, 4% cut.

[User]
Alice had positioned herself a short distance from the core group. She wasn't as far as Adrian, but had nestled herself into a comfortable vantage point that was close enough to provide another overlapping field of fire to the rest of the team. Once the raiders' fire support platforms were dealt with, she intended to move from her perch and support Jamy and Sam's offensive.
 From here, Alice scanned the opposite side of the village for the artillery Lin had mentioned. She switched on her thermal imaging, which outlined the artillery barrel in white against the dark form of the rock. More white could be seen poking from the other side - other vehicles, SAMs, probably. A well-aimed HE salvo to the site and everything inside would be history.
 Alice was already dialing her instruments in, prepping to make a decisive strike against the pirates' support vehicles when the familiar rasp of the captain rattled her ears.
 "Team, status report."
 "Swallowtail, standing by. I have a visual on the raiders' artillery site." The reticule of her targeting computer hovered right over the outcrop, range and angle of attack already calculated. Alice's finger danced a mere inch over the launch trigger.
 "One word and we can say goodbye to those SAMS," she added.

[Assistant]
The next moments were like the calm before the storm. The Steel Hunters were analyzing and sharing target information with one another to help the operation go smoothly. The main road itself was blockaded by a quartet of tanks and IFVs, alongside a MAS, while 4 other enemy MAS's formed a wide perimeter around the town- their line reinforced by several light vehicles and infantry. They were spread wide because they weren't expecting a coordinated strike from outsiders. The Steel Hunter's concentrated strike could hammer through them long enough to get supplies to the town, as well as shatter most of their operation.

"Alright team. Lets get this done. Came Prowler's voice over the comms. Samuel breathed out deeply, cracking his knuckles and settling himself in his seat. Swallowtail had eyes on the artillery site he had spotted, he'd be able to push on with his own objective.

"Hit them. Go!"

Samuel's MAS reached for its shoulder and threw the tarp off of his machine. "Swallowtail, hit that artillery sight!" Sam called through the comms. Boosting around the corner, Sam skated towards the settlement, keeping his unit close to the ground- in case their was another SAM site. As Prowler and the main line engaged the enemies along the main road, Sam and the flanking force was responsible for cutting a path into the town to allow their infantry to push into the settlement and secure it.

Resistance on Sam's side was fairly minimal, a single Ferir II backed by a trio of lightly armored combat vehicles open fired on him as he nimbly dodged his way through, allowing himself to take fire to provide cover for his infantry force. Sam returned fire with his MAS's 20mm autocannons, the small but potent autocannon rounds tearing apart two of the lightly armored vehicles and forcing the Ferir to turtle behind a large alloy shield that it carried.

"Hey Werewolf, I've got a Ferir with a damn big shield here. Send him a present maybe?" Sam called in over the comm. Moving too far ahead of his infantry team would leave him vulnerable without their support, as well as leave them stuck without major fire support.

[User]
"Swallowtail, hit that artillery site!"
 Upon hearing Sam's confirmation, Alice depressed the trigger on her control yoke. The barrel of her 40 mm autocannon roared to life, chucking high-explosive rounds downrange at the targets.
 POOMPOOMPOOMPOOM - The screen of Alice's targeting computer flared white as the salvo slammed into the artillery encampment. Rounds burst as they made contact with the platforms, scattering debris and armor spalls. The SAM trucks imploded as the rounds detonated the ammunition inside their launchers, clearing the immediate airspace for Sam and the other light pilots.
 "SAMs are toast; you're in the clear, Hare."
 Immediately after the salvo took its toll, Alice zipped from her perch to regroup with the main offensive team. Up ahead, she could see the pseudo-blockade of MASs and armored vehicles across the road. Her targeting computer acquired the threats, highlighting them on her screen.
 "Goodnight." The Claymore launcher on her MAS's chest flared, sending an AT warhead darting into the sky. Moments later, it changed direction, screaming back down before plowing into the vulnerable top armor of one of the tanks.
 The MASs accompanying the armor snapped to attention, readying their weaponry as Alice and the other Steel Hunters approached the town.
 "Doughboy, Jupiter; let's give it to them!"

[Assistant]
Adrian shot upright when Prowler called the team into action, her hands tightening on the controls in excitement and anticipation. Finally, some action. She adjusted her MAS, keeping tabs on Sam as he skated into action, and grinning from ear to ear as Swallowtail took out the SAMs. She thought about taking to the air in celebration, but decided against it- there could be other trucks out and about, waiting to turn them into crunchy mech-suit pate.

"Nice shooting, Swallowtail. I'll keep eyes open for any other SAMs trying to ruin our fun."

"Hey Werewolf," Sam suddenly piped in over the comms, "I've got a Ferir with a damn big shield here. Send him a present maybe?" Adrian turned her computerized gaze at the target in question- a big honkin' alloy pain in the ass, indeed. At least, it would be for anyone else. Whoever that Ferir pilot was had obviously never met Reaper, though- he would have picked something much thicker if he had. She grinned, a shark's predatory expression.

"Oh, Hare. You always send me the best presents!" she crowed, aiming her railcannon at the MAS in question, her finger hovering over the trigger as her computer quickly configured a firing solution.

There. Locked in.

"Special delivery from the Steel Hunters Association! SMILE!"

There was a massive THUMP from Reaper as Adrian pulled the trigger, and a lance of near-molten metal exploded from the barrel at supersonic speeds. There was a flurry of sparks as the round slammed into and through the Ferir's shield, the arm holding it, the cockpit (reducing the pilot to the consistency of a fine red mist), and out the back of the MAS, exploding into the ground behind it.

The Ferir fell backwards after a beat, almost comically still, a still-smoldering hole in its chest. Adrian punched the air in celebration.

"And THAT'S how we do business! The front door's all yours, gentlemen- just find some more guys for me to shoot!"


[System]
Rank: Spartan. Lieutenant prior to the end of the Human-Covenant war.

Species: Human (Spartan III)

Appearance: Generation 2 Mjolnir Armor, colored black with a dark-tinted visor. (I can look up the exact details of his accessories from the MCC gear list.)

Skills: Excellent sniper, although as with all Spartans, Ben is trained in the use of most if not all UNSC equipment.

Preferred Weapons: SRS99-S5 AM sniper rifle, Covenant sniper weapons (when available), M319 grenade launcher.

Background: Entered service in 2545, having been born on the planet [Censored]. As with all Spartan-IIIs, Ben was orphaned at a young age when the Covenant attacked his planet, glassing the surface. Early on, he was singled out for his skills as a sniper, along with extreme levels of loyalty and a willingness to carry out any order given to him, even those which required him to turn of his own friends and allies. As such, Ben was assigned to the Spartan-III Security operations group, an organization so secretive, even other Spartans weren't made aware of it.

As part of Sec Ops, Ben was nominally a part of Beta company for some years, switching to Alpha and Gamma on occasion. He achieved an exemplary number of kills and was never part of a failed mission. As such, he advanced to the commissioned ranks quickly, becoming a lieutenant by the year 2552. None of the other Spartans knew that he was part of Security Operations, or what his real missions were, for while he still had the same objectives on each mission as the rest of the team he was assigned to, his real goal was to keep the other Spartans in line, report any dissent, and execute any member of the Spartan program who displayed treasonous behavior, cowardice, or put UNSC security at unnecessary risk. His authority for execution also extended as far as the normal UNSC military forces, a fact kept well off the books. It also extended to witnesses to any event which if reported, could jeopardize the political or military aims of the UNSC.

After the end of the Human-Covenant war, Security Operations was reformed into Epsilon company, and retroactively given all of the trappings of a normal UNSC Spartan-III company as if it had been active since the start of the Spartan-III program. Now that the Spartan-IV program has begun, no more members of Epsilon are being added, and members of the company are often combined or sent to participate in larger groups which are formed as the situation demands.

[User]
Yalu 'Suumko

Yalu could say plenty about the team's more expressive members by the way they received the meeting. Grikgar in particular shone clearest as an unggoy that betrayed quite the raft of experience. If he served on Thel 'Vadam's fleet at the holy ring, he was either skilled, impossibly lucky, or both. Yalu did not dismiss him for his antics.

As for the mission, Yalu did not expect it to be straightforward. With the amount of unknowns they would be contending with, there was little he could expect for sure. Putting down a rebellious strike was vague, and that was to mention nothing of the possible areas they could be lurking. The sarcophagus, while an awesome construct, was just as big a maze to hide in by the looks of it.

And that was that. Yalu mused to himself that he would have plenty of reading to do of the mission files. However, he realised how stiff his legs felt when he stood up to follow the team to the drop ship...

---

Yalu was not at all hungry by the time they reached the cruiser. He was getting drowsy, and he did not like it. Ryker's energy dagger drew his eye when it lit up.

"Spartan Lucas Ryker," Yalu addressed the human as he had introduced himself beforehand. "My journey to Earth has left me sluggish. Does your War Games module accommodate sparring? If you carry that dagger, you must have learnt how to use it."

[Assistant] "You have a valid point Vael, we may not get another chance to discuss the mission, since time is indeed limited." said Aviza, all the while looking at up the Sangheili who had oddly decided to stand across from her, and not take a seat like she had. "I just remember the Major instructing us to not speak about mission sensitive details while in public areas, but perhaps we can bend the rules slightly for the moment being, due to how important the matter is." Aviza leaned slightly forward in her seat, repositioning herself to be more comfortable before continuing. "What aspects of the mission would you like to discuss, Vael?" As soon as Spartan Aviza had finished speaking, one of the ships crewmen who had been assigned to the mess hall for that morning walked over to their table and set down a plate with Aviza's coffee, which was inside of a metal mug, and a small cup of creamer to be used as she saw fit. Wasting no time, she thanked the man before pouring a bit of the creamer into her coffee and stirring it with the spoon she had been provided. "Are you going to take a seat or stay standing like that for the whole conversation?" inquired Aviza, before taking a sip of her coffee.

[User]
Vael 'Virisusai

---

Vael glanced down at the table, his mandibles flaring out slightly as he let out a brief grunt. "Your chairs are too small." He answered, simply and quickly. "And we have no need to discuss the details of our specific mission, only how we intend to lead this team. I am not completely familiar with the rules and traditions you Humans have in your military, but I do have more than enough experience to know they are different from Sangheili command. You are the Fireteam Leader of this mission, and the orders you give may not be the ones my people expect. My people may take initiative, may take action in ways that you would expect your people to only do under orders. Likewise, my people may also await orders for actions you expect them to do on their own. The reason we were originally intended to go through extensive training before our first mission was so our team as a whole could learn how they were expected to act under each other's command. Quite simply, we do not have the time to solve that problem before our missions, so the two of us need to anticipate these problems and be ready to adapt."

---

Major Robinson

---

It had not been long after their arrival on the UNSC Chorus of Thunder that Spartan Rex's presence had been requested by Major Robinson. She requested him to join her in a small briefing room somewhat near to the officers' quarters. When he arrived, he would find her alone, standing at an inactive holographic display table at the center of the room, looking through files on her datapad.

The Major spoke the moment the door closed shut behind Rex. "Spartan Rex-G124." She said, as if repeating it directly from the file in front of her. "I have read your file, Spartan, including the parts withheld from the rest of your team. I will admit, I argued against your selection for this team, but my superiors felt differently. They felt your skills and ability to act both in a team, and autonomously should the situation demand it, will be important to ensuring your mission objectives are completed. I agreed with them on your skills, but I also read what happened with those pirates, and I did not dismiss those concerns so quickly. So, I want to hear your own assessment on yourself, Spartan. Are my superiors right, or are my concerns justified?"

[Assistant]
Grikgar /Grik/ Seeker
// Unggoy Ultra // Demolitions and Artillery //

Continuing to follow the commanders down the hall at a quick pace. Grikgar was now entirely curious to find out what this mess hall was all about and what kind of 'food' these humans had. Where they just nipples and used solely for nutrients or did they have comfort foods? All questions that were answered when they got close to the room. His senses were already being bombarded with different smells. Unggoy where particularly good at following their noses and this room already didn't disappoint.

There were a lot of people in this large room, rows of tables bordered with what looked almost like tall vending machines adorned with a holographic monitor to dispense food. Grik had grabbed two plates after watching a couple of marines press a few buttons and see their trays fill up with food. This simple aspect of their life was almost a dream to the Unggoy. He was well aware he wouldn't find anything familiar so he knew there was a lot of guess work to it.

He spent more than the others did flipping through the pages and acquiring what he thought he wanted, even going as far as asking some of the marines what they were getting. Not very many answered him with food items. Soon he found himself carrying two trays loaded down with drinks, various carbs, and more than a few extra helpings of seafood. He seemed very proud of what he had.

Finally setting his things down on the table he awkwardly sat down in the seat given to him. The two fire team leaders seemed very intent on their discussion and he payed them no mind other than having to look around the pile of food to see them. The Unggoy took his helmet off and placed it next to him on the table, a smaller portion of the mask remained over his nose for him to breathe exposing his small but scarred bald head, green eyes, and small sharp teeth.

The little guy seemed intent on sampling everything first before digging in. he was obviously unaware of how to properly eat things, taking a bite out of the side of a banana without peeling it first was a sign of this. These things did not bother him, small bones in the fish? Devoured, Shells on crab legs and claws? Crunched. The grunt also did not use any of the utensils that came with the tray picking up and eating everything with his hands. Until he came to what he was told was a ghost pepper, the marine that told him about was laughing when he said it so it couldn't be that bad right?

He didn't sample this one even if he should have, instead Grik just popped it into his mouth and quickly chewed then swallowed. After a few silent minutes of him to really think about how it made him feel, it soon occurred to him that his mouth was nearly on literal fire. Eyes going wide he sat up straight coughing, he felt like he was choking and began scrambling for something liquid that he had gotten. During his commotion of trying to grab one of the bowls of seafood chowder, one of the two plates fell to the floor spilling the other half of its contents. At the same time, he guzzled down the warm soup to extinguish the fire inside him, clearly making a mess of himself as not all the white chowder made it down his gullet.

The empty bowl fell to the floor, the grunt laid back in his chair exhausted, "why… why does plant hate Grikgar?" Grik slowly sat up and began cleaning himself off. The grunt decided that maybe that was enough food for him and instead opted to take a drink of coffee instead. The taste compared to the pepper was heavenly. "Grik thought you said there were no drugs here?" he said as he kept drinking the coffee. Did these humans possibly create a monster hyped up on coffee? Possibly, only time will tell.


[System]
Description:  Except no elven ears. She has human like ears.

Apparel: Same as above.

Demigod Form:

Age: 16

Race: Mathua (Pure-blood non-Hybrid)

Gender: Female

Alignment (Chaos Frame): Netural Good

Interests: Artwork, sweet foods, scenic sights, martial arts

Favorite Interest: Artwork

Dislikes: Ignorant people, people who think they're elite and better than everyone else.

Person of Interest: Does not have one.

Bestfriend: Meira

Rival: Does not have one at the moment.

Most Hated Word: Chic/Chick

Quote: I hope to see brother's warmth within bring a smile to my face again. I can't stand seeing him never be happy.

Important Value in Life: Family

Favorite Food: Sweet tofu

Ambition: She wants to make her brother smile again and help him create a world everyone can be proud of.

Sin Guilty of Most: Envy

Title: Silver Maiden of Ruination

Combat Style: Any form of martial arts

Weapon Preference: Knuckles/Gauntlets

Weapon Name: Destruction's Fangs

Chaos Rune: Chaos Rune: Darkness of Destruction – The almighty rune of Twilight that uses power that is controlled by Euphoria representing the very power of destruction that consumes everything into nothingness and waste.

Egis Name: Annihilation's Providence

Egis Weapon Type: Long thin thrusting sword

Egis Weapon: Luminares Twilitha (Sword)

Contracted Deity: Euphoria - Goddess of Universal Destruction and is a higher deity in the Lower Dimension. Resides in the Astral Plane home world of almost all Spirits. Euphoria is a very powerful deity that imbues her contractor with the devastating power of destruction that can ruin anything that its fangs lay claim to. She seems to be almost the same age as in appearance as Tsukiko. They also seem to sometimes share the same persona.

Deity's Element Alignment: Twilight

Deity's Chaos Frame: Chaotic Evil

Deity's Affinity Rating: 0

Magic Systems: Elemental Magic, Holy Magic, Psionics, Glyph Magic

Elemental Affinities: Inferno, Radiance, Miracle and Vortex

Weakness: Electricity

Magical Level: C-

Special Skills:
Corruptible Influence - Using her aura, Tsukiko can utilize Euphoria's great power to destroy inorganic and organic objects that are equal to her strength or weaker than she is.

Destructive Veil - Tsukiko can hide herself in a pocket dimension that is created from the very dawn of darkness that makes up the horde known as oblivion.

Enforcement of Ruin - Tsukiko can raise the attack power of herself and her allies and make their attacks more destructive than they normally are.

Ender's Blessing - With the force of destruction, Tsukiko can heal her allies though when healed it will cause shockwaves of pain to go down her spine.

Techniques:

Personality: Her personality is dark and mysterious where she comes off as gloomy and very depressed. She rarely shows any form of happiness and doesn't ever laugh making this girl very hard to socialize with, because she doesn't mean to come off as a cold person, but she doesn't really know what to say due to her sheltered life outside of public society. She is a nihilist by nature and not hard to get along, just hard to socialize since she tries to avoid talking to most people. She has a very severe resentment toward the male gender like my other character Ranathia.

Biography: Tsukiko is a mysterious who accompanies both Meira and Reala. She has a past she wants to run away from since it is said that she has no remaining family members that are alive. She contracted with her deity Euphoria at a very young age who is almost like a sister to her. According to recent documents recovered it is recorded that her parents were murdered in the little town she lived in. They say it was a dragon attack, but there is no concrete evidence that supports this claim at this time. It is known that she prefers gauntlets, knuckles and close range weapons toward swords, but her Egis Weapon takes the shape of a very long thin bladed rapier.

[User]
"Who are you?" Tsukiko questioned as Tsukiko questioned as she finally started relax relieving herself of her tension. She felt a vibrancy within the man that he was not someone who wanted to harm her. She pulled herself away from his grasp as he released her when he finally understood that she wanted him to let her go. He was only trying to keep her away from harm. He had no intention of doing anything else to her so he immediately released her when she gave the impression that she wanted to be released. Even though she asked who he was he still did not answer her which annoyed her.

Tsukiko frowned at him as he surveyed his surroundings as the creature was still in the area sniffing about. His sword was plunged into the ground. Judging by the way his sword was crafted she knew this man was someone of exceptional skill. That didn't excuse him for ignoring her earlier where she tried to kick , but he moved off to the side dodging her kick. She looked at him irritated as she tried to kick him again, but he got annoyed where he grabbed her by the leg then lifted upward where she was immediately swept off her feet and fell to the ground with her buttocks landing first. "Why'd you do..." Before she could finish her sentenced he clamped his hand over her mouth once again since she was being too noisy. He noticed the creature had her voice and reacted but the way it was moving gave him the idea even though the creature knew someone was there, it still didn't know where to look.

Tsukiko tried to bite his hand as he took it away, but missed where she fell to the ground. The girl was angry by how the man was treating her. She felt like he was treating her like an animal and teasing her thinking in the back of his mind he thought it was funny and amusing even though he still showed that serious cold expression that he did not care which she despised. "What is the big idea covering my mouth again!?" She barked as she lifted herself back onto her feet and brushed herself off thoroughly using both hands. The man still did not answer her.

"Get behind me." He said to her as he heard some talking in the background, but wasn't sure who it was. He grabbed his sword pulling it out of the ground and took it into his hand letting it rest at his side for the moment. He could tell it was a group of people, but since he could barely hear what they were saying he knew they were quite a ways away. Tsukiko sighed deeply and did immediately like the man asked and stood behind him where she was completely out of sight. She saw the man was looking in the direction opposite from the beast, but didn't understand why he was looking in that direction. The beast was in the middle as the man was staring in the direction of the beast except not directly at it since it was upward of the direction he heard the voices. The beast was diagonal from him so why is he looking in an opposite direction she tried to ask herself calmly as she remained quiet as not to cause anymore ruckus.

[Assistant]
"Compass? What compass?" Erica questioned as assumption started to assert itself in her head. Her eyes bored into the young alchemist with increasing suspicion.

"He is right though; we need to move now," Danny said with some sense of urgency to her.

"Fine, we'll talk about this later," Erica huffed. She then turned and chased after Nathan.

They soon arrived at a clearing and were greeted to the sight of a pitch black beast prowling menacingly at them. There was, however, no sign of Tsukiko.

---

Aart was in the middle of converting his pod into a powerfist when he heard a voice calling him. He did not recognize the speaker but it sounded familiar enough and being the only other sapient voice he heard after the crash led the Dwarf into looking around for the source.He soon find an all too familiar drone flying nearby.

"Och, it's you lad, guess you're fine as well, eh?" Aart grunted. "Do you know where the ship crashed? I want to check my babies but I can't make head or tails where I have to go."

[User]
"Yes. I could sense the ship a mile awhile. It isn't like there is any other tech at its scale anywhere near here. I am at the ship right now. It is bad. Really bad. I can lead you back to the ship. Follow the droid." his voice came out, distorted by the speaker.

It moved slightly backwards towards the ship and then stopped waiting for Aart.

Axel was working on repairing a computer terminal. He had set up a protocol to have any major accidents at the ship be recorded and sent to all the terminals across the ship, but the damage to the ship made reading the data through simple magic not possible. He would have to get the device itself working, and then try to salvage any data that he could. He muttered to himself, "I hope this works." which then echo'ed through the droid's speakers as he had set it to pick up anything he said, and forgot to mute himself. If not, he would have to get the black-box.

Ever cautious, he had set up two. One was near the pilot's seat, and if that one was not functional. Axel shuddered.

[Assistant]
"So that's our noisemaker" Nathan raised an eyebrow

"I don't see any sign of Tsukiko, guess she didn't cross this thing." Danny noted. "So what's the plan? Do we take this thing, or just run?"

"I'm not sure we could lose it if we ran. At best, we could try to scare it off."

"How?"

"Like this" Nathan gathered power in his left hand and held it there for a few seconds, letting it build. Once he felt that it was sufficient, he punched the ground in front of him, creating a small crater as well as shaking the surroundings.

"Jeez! You did all that with just a punch! That's scary!" Danny jumped at the sight of the aftermath.

"It was either that or fire, and I don't want to burn this whole place down."

"Fair enough."


[System]
---

Arcane Archer Fighter 20Save the world... redeem myself.

[User]
E . .ʟ . .ʟ . .ᴇ . .ɴ . .ᴀ . .ʀ . .A  A. . ɴ. . ɴ ' . ʟ. . ᴇ. . ᴀ. . H ...
______________________________________________________________________________________

The violence vanished faster than it started. In a mere blink, the offending orcs were gone. With no fuel for her pyre, Ellenara returned to her natural state. Very briefly, she looked down and remarked to herself at how even the ash had fled from her feet in this disappearing act. Very tidy.

Seeing that the devouts seemed to have the vital aid well handled, Elle turned to her never-ending pouch once more. Lowering herself to the freshly scorched stone, she sat cross-legged with the crystal ball upon her lap. As the others spoke of their plans, her gaze beseeched the orb of knowledge of this warlord's whereabouts. After the ritual was complete, the orb revealed only fog, its destination unclear. "The orc man seems to be gone," she said in her usually dreamy voice, interrupting the Duke's apologies.

She seemed to give this a moment of contemplation as she stowed the artefact within her bottomless bag. Only then did she seem to recognize that the question of transportation has arose. "I can take us there. The trees rustle with excitement. They want to transport us to the North!" she proclaimed, as if they were to ride upon a cloud of leaves.

[Assistant]
Vale Detherwood

---

Vale wondered if she did the right thing in having her elemental friend hold back its attack. Of course, she had just sliced apart one of the orcs with her dagger herself; but that was before they had decided to fall back. She spent most of her life helping lost souls out of her forest. It would've been a shame to silence another lost soul just because he thought he could muscle his way in. Anywho; She had hopped her last display hadn't given away her abilities. She'd stick with the insisting of her mage-y prowess in any case. Even if she was just a beginner, she still had plans to be the best wizard ever.

Vale dusted herself off and sheathed her dagger. Her elemental had settled back into the ground, no longer controlled by her, and she skipped over to the owlbear to make sure the beast was all right. It was good to see the old man take care of her, though she was prepared to save her if things had gotten dire. At the mention of heading north, Vale looked at Ellenara in remembrance that the day wasn't over and they had much stuff to do. "Ah! North! I would be grateful if the plants could take me along. I had a horse I could summon, though who knows how well it would've fared if the terrain became rocky."

Vale paused momentarily. "Is everyone that's heading into the mountains ready? Or do we require a small break before we depart? I'm should be fine if we decide to just bully through."

[User]
Janine  Fawkes
Scrapmouse

Scrapmouse at first decided to sit down on the arch and watch the other allies from a distance, but then to her surprise, Lonett, the huntress with the pet owlbear, decided to climb up and sit next to her. The gnome looked to the huntress and listened when she made her request. She answered Lonett after she finished speaking, "Listen. I'm up for any sort of tinkering. I'd be happy to help out. Just gimme time to come up with an idea to come up with an idea for how to help...Divna become more resilient. If you've got any ideas for how you want to help your owlbear, you let me know. I know what it's like to worry about a companion," She nodded downwards as Sparky made his appearance underneath the arch and looked up to Scrapmouse, sitting on the haunches waiting for her to come down or for her orders. The red light of its visor was now blue once again.

Scrapmouse watched Lonett climbed down, before standing up herself, and using her crafted Wings of Flying to get herself down from the arch.
She patted Sparky on the head before she marched up to the group that was going to face the Dragons and Giants and she asked, clapping her hands and rubbing them together in anticipation, "So! What are we waiting for?"

[Assistant]
"A small break might be of some relief. There were a few things I was unable to tend to this morning due to the interruption. I don't know how much use it would be to the others though."

James removes his robe of useful items from his bag of holding while walking towards the stall where his horse was kept. Once in the stall, he dons the robe and begins taking off some of the patches. He starts with the two healing potion patches, the scroll of locate object, a sack, two of the three ladders, a ten-foot pole, the patch of gems, the two coils of rope, the silver coffer, and a steel mirror. He takes the robe off and stuffs it in the sack with the eight potions of healing. Setting aside one fifty foot coil of hempen rope he puts the raining items in his bag of holding. He puts the sack to his left side, his bag of holding on his back, and the coil of rope next to the bag of holding.

He returns to the courtyard where the others were leading his horse."I am ready to go now. I have no preference as to the method of travel. Whichever would be most beneficial to our mission"

[User]
Marcus  Lakeltia

---

Marcus shook his head at Ada's concerns. "If it will take hours, then it will. Whatever be the case, we must travel the distance", he explained his reasons for going forward with the plan. If there was no faster way of doing it, they might as well resort to what they had available instead of sitting idly by and awaiting for a better method to rain upon them from the heavens. The gods had given what they could, or would, give them and the rest was up to the Titan Hunters themselves, those chosen for the job by those divine entities. The paladin looked around himself, scoping out everyone who were going to join him. They were all more or less present. Good. They could begin.

"Those heading West, gather where we first saw Krusk when you are ready. Bring your mounts and belongings, especially the former. The gift from gods we will transport ourselves with only reaches so far from me and to so many souls at once", he switched to a much louder volume, so that anyone could hear. Then he was off to fetch his mount from where it was being held. Bartimeus was used to the magic they would utilise. The fellow hunters would be able to handle it through the merit of understanding alone. But if there were any wild animals, which it appeared there was bound to be, Marcus could not be sure on their reaction. A fair warning should likely be given to all of those involved either way.

In the stables, Marcus held a hand on Bartimeus's forehead as the servants removed any bindings the Pegasus might have had placed upon it. Finally he was given the green to open the gate and walk the Greater Steed out from its holding. The two exchanged a few pleasantries through their link, mostly about how the night had gone and what had the awful racket been about. The news of them having to use Wind Walk to move onward came as quite a displeasure to the winged steed, but he knew better than to complain. They needed to move fast. Not everything could be achieved.

Once those whose destination was the empire of ghouls and whose (current) destiny would amount to toppling said power had gathered in the smaller part of the courtyard, Marcus would nod. "I would like to ask everyone to gather close to me and prepare for quite the experience. Do your best to keep any animals in check", he stated as he fished out his prayer beads and held one of them in his fingers. He spoke a few words of prayer, and the air around them changed quite suddenly. "This will only take a minute!" he yelled over the ever rising wind. And soon even if he tried nobody could hear anything over the deafening gale.

Everyone affected by the spell would find themselves in their own personal maelstrom, the thundering winds ripping at their armour, clothes and flesh. But instead of pain, only a light feeling would come around. Through the winds, one could barely make out the shape in the middle: The half-orc who had called this spell upon them stood there, calmly, slightly wavy in his disposition. His eyes were closed for the whole duration of the casting and he would stand still, holding on to the single bead from which power radiated into his surroundings. His armour shimmered as it became air, his face and hands had long since been but fog. Only a moment later, the vestments he wore under the plate puffed into a more transparent form too, though simultaneously the armour would strengthen in its opaqueness. Or perhaps it was everything under that became so much softer? Nonetheless, the paladin appeared more or less his usual self, if only made of coloured air instead of his actual physical form.

"If everyone is ready to move, we should be on our way. Last chance to pick up anything forgotten", he declared and began a slow ascent off the ground and towards the sun.

Wind Walk is cast through the Necklace of Prayer Beads. Ten (10) potential targets should be more than enough to get everyone along.

[Assistant]
James had to hold fast to the reigns to keep the horse from bolting. He himself was starting to wonder what happening. He was only slightly familiar with magic outside of enchanted items. As the spell took hold he could feel the gale rushing around him. He expected to feel the sharp pull of the wind only there was only a feeling of lightness. When he looked at Markus seeing the man become what appeared to be air. James looked over himself seek seeing the same starting to happen to him. With another quick glance he saw that the horse was also turning into air.

He turned back to Markus as he said it was now time to take off and make way to the ghoul empire. "Lead on." James takes up behind Markus following his lead.

[User]
Marcus  Lakeltia

---

Marcus had not had the opportunity to lead the newly formed Ghoul Slayers for longer than few minutes before he heard a now familiar voice call for him from the sending stone given to his use. At least the blessings of Tyr allowed the item to function even when reduced to a form of air and wind, so when he raised it again to his mouth and requested in a billowing voice for the message to be repeated, Ada would hear those words just as well. The news from the former Duchess were worrying to say the least. Marcus shook his head as he asked for one more repeat, wanting to make sure he had absolutely got that right. And he had. Well, it would seem that despite everything, today would not be the day for the empire to fall. A royal shame.

The windsweeping Paladin turned to the other coloured clouds travelling with him and shared his concerns: "An issue most dire has presented itself to us, and it seems it is impossible for us to divide our forces any longer. Our numbers have reduced further, with one of our kin stepping away from the task. With the mandatory guard detail in case of the returning warlord, that means we cannot on good conscience dare even attempt breaking our forces into separate squads. We need return. Not least thanks to the parting words of the one who stepped away: The giants know."

Marcus shook his head again, but put his chin up only a moment after. "Yet the ghoul empire remains a standing issue. We need someone to alert the remaining Hammers-" he began on his next concern, only to be interrupted by Lonett.

"I volunteer for the task", the Monster Slayer shared, her motivations clear in her own mind. Marcus pondered briefly on whether they were of righteousness, fear, or something entirely different, but now it was not a pressing matter. No, now it was important that the task was done.

"Go with my blessing, Lonett of Caernath. I have no doubt my fellow Paladins will listen to the word of someone like you. I hope this is not the last time we see one another", Marcus shared his parting words, followed by the two clouds formed of the Ranger and her Owlbear separating themselves from the group and heading towards the house of the Hammers of Grimjaws. In the meantime, the rest could only follow the call sent to them once again by the one who had originally called upon them, turning for the quick return trip to the Seat of Mavros.

The heroes would descend upon the courtyard where they were awaited by those that still remained, Ada now in possession of the powerful Scrying Orb again. Upon his wispy form touching the ground, another whirlwind erupted around Marcus as he would reform into his physical body. In only a minute, the Paladin stood before the one who had called again upon them, letting loose a question from his lips: "We have returned. What was it that you saw, that made you call for our immediate return?" Of course, he knew exactly what it was. He had heard it multiple times now. The others would benefit of hearing it from the source as well though.

HOLD UP WE ARE GOING BACK!
The party that originally departed to slay the Ghoul Emperor has returned to the Seat of Mavros, sans Lonett and Divna who headed to pass on the warning of the Ghoul Empire's threat to the remaining Hammers of Grimjaws.

In the meantime, Ellenara has vacated the castle grounds. Without anyone else. Ada might know more about that, or she might not. Marcus has shared what he knows.
- Ada's insights, please and thank you.

[Assistant]
The group riding winds had just departed when Ada heard a quiet voice behind her. "They fly to their deaths, and we to ours," Ellenara whispered, her voice barely loud enough for Ada's elven ears to perceive. "The winds have changed; spring turned to fall. Destruction awaits."

Ada looked to the druid in confusion. "Destruction? You mean there's a trap? Nothing that the servants of deities cannot handle, though." Even as she spoke, Ada was cut short by a derisive laugh. "If you have seen something, let us know, for all our sakes," the duchess demanded.

"The giant has seen us, and I have lost the orc man. They will have bolstered their numbers, and perhaps may seek us out. Even now, the strength and desire of many of our number has faded. Even I long to return to the trees. I see death of many at the feet of Orcus's handimen. No, it is useless unless we are gathered. And the orc man will return. You need many to guard in your absense, and I believe I am best suited to help those who have already volunteered."

Ada sighed with some frustration. The Keep could protect itself, but the city below would be vulnerable from a large-scale onslaught. Plus, Krusk had already proven he could teleport past the magical wards of their keep. That spoke of a powerful mage assisting him. There really was no other choice. She spoke into the Sending Stone, requesting Marcus to return. Only a few minutes were wasted waiting and explaining the situation.

"If we split up much further, both parties will be doomed. If we leave no one to defend the city, thousands could die. If we do not stop the Giant, he has already been alerted to us and may march on the Seat. I'm sorry, my friends, but our only choice is to ignore the ghoulish threat for now and focus on the more pressing matters. When we complete this mission, we still may have the chance to stop the emperors' advance." It wasn't what Marcus wanted to hear, Ada was certain, but it was the only way.

They must all head North.


[System]
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance:

Personality: Completely self-serving, anarchic and vain, Chloe seems to go where she wants, when she wants to go there, and not a minute sooner. She allies herself with anybody who seeks to overthrow the current power structure, no matter their motives or methods, and when the a revolution she was aiding succeeds, she rises up with the next group of insurgents. She has a constant lackadaisical attitude that annoys the people around her, as though she doesn't care who they are or why they're around in the first place. Whatever is going on in her head is more important to her than her interpersonal relationships, and she barely seems to remember other peoples' names.

Bio: Chloe was born into a poor family on the wrong side of the tracks. Their house was constantly getting broken into and robbed, and it wasn't uncommon for her to watch her father literally fight to take back their home from squatters and gangs. This was how she spent the first ten years of her life. However, in her tenth year of life, even this routine was uprooted and taken from her, as she and her family were seized by a small upstart gang, beaten, and put to work by them. Chloe never saw her father again after that day. She and her mother lived an uneasy life, essentially as slaves for this random gang of thugs with very little power, but there was nothing that she and her mother could do, because they were powerless.

On the day she met the incubator, there was no convincing that needed to happen, no goading or talks. She had a wish that she would go to any lengths to fulfill.

At present, she is known to support rebellions in any form. In Aurora, she has chosen to ally herself with the Shadow Compact, since she likes the way they do business. Most people question why a magical girl would ally herself with humans to overthrow magical girl superiority, but she has never mentioned her motives even once to anybody. She enjoys living a hedonistic life without any ties to other people and without any particular direction, and she has no true friends to speak of, though she has uneasy allies and very loose acquaintances. Chloe's been at this magical girl thing for quite a while now and seems to enjoy the rhythm of it. While she knows that one day it has to end, focusing on the present is what brings her joy.

Allegiance: Shadow Compact. While uneasy, she has formed a sort of partnership with the Shadow Compact. She has power, and seems hell-bent on overthrowing the rule of the current magical girl system for some reason. Many in the organisation don't like her involvement, but even they can't argue with her results in the face of their own relative powerlessness.

Skills: Chloe is physically strong from all of the non-magical fighting she engages in, and the constant labour work that she never quite managed to separate herself from. Even when not powered up by magic, she is stronger than most girls her age and can hold her own against an adult in a fight. If you asked anybody else, the rest of her skillset would consist of annoying people and being mysterious.
Weapons: Brass knuckles
Other: Chloe isn't very quick to make friends for obvious reasons, but that doesn't necessarily mean she wants to be that way...

Magical Girl Appearance:

Wish: It's not known to the public.
Weapons: Power Fists, great for hand to hand combat, blocking heavy attacks, and general wanton destruction.
Powers: Obviously something to do with her unknown wish, but this is also unknown.

[User] "Indeed I have, Your Majesty," Maria answered. "I was visited by Kyubey, you see. He wove a story about unsavory behavior going down at the industrial sector; magical experiments and whatnot. Why he chose to tell me and not Dora is beyond my comprehension. Nonetheless, I believe this is a matter that shouldn't be ignored, as questionable as the source may be."

[Assistant] Eponine's prior attack had caused her to kick off of Byrea, sending herself into the air as the witch fell backwards, crashing through ice pillars. To stop herself, Eponine reached out a hammer and used the spiked end to hook onto an approaching ice bridge. After she managed to get on top of the bridge and regain her footing, she looked at the area directly above the stunned witch, noticing several unbroken ice bridges. Eponine summoned another hammer and started spinning in place again. Once she had gained enough momentum, she threw one hammer at one end of one ice bridge, and the other hammer at the end of the other ice bridge, shattering the segments where they impacted in an explosion of ice and mist. Without both sides being supported, the bridges began to fall, their opposite ends snapping as they swung downwards. Eponine watched as the two massive ice structures cascaded down in a thundering flurry, hoping that they would crush the witch and end his fight. Would it be enough?