Datasets:

HaitameLaf

/

DDD_0

like 0

Skylar Montgomery Lieu: Clinique de désintox Tallshade au Café Castle Street Interagir avec: Boss(Alice)/N'importe qui au Café Alors que Sky s'asseyait dans sa chaise de bureau, elle réfléchissait plus à propos d'hier soir. Ce cygne n'a pas essayé de lutter contre son destin, en fait c'était plutôt calme parce que son destin était la mort. Pour autant qu'elle puisse penser à un cygne sauvage ne serait pas si calme. "C'est quoi ce bordel?" Elle s'est chuchotée dans la confusion. Dans ce cas, son esprit errait à si ce cygne avait effectivement été après comme tous les autres. Ça expliquerait la fumée noire qui en sortait. Cela signifierait qu'ils le feraient tous sous forme d'animaux s'ils mouraient. C'était avec ces réalisations que Sky courait jusqu'à la salle de bain avec un estomac tournant vomissant. Bien qu'elle le fasse depuis un certain temps, elle ne s'est jamais interrogée sur la raison pour laquelle ils avaient même ces pouvoirs, ni sur ce qui leur est arrivé lorsqu'ils ont conclu ce contrat. C'était comme si une créature noire était réveillée d'un profond sommeil en elle, une qu'elle pressait depuis près de quatre ans. Elle espérait que tout ça n'allait pas avec leur vraie nature. Se faire sortir du sol de la salle de bains, pas l'endroit le plus propre pour s'asseoir. Sky a lavé sa bouche et a couru de l'eau froide sur son visage avant de se sécher avec une serviette. Alors qu'elle rentrait dans son bureau, son patron l'a repérée. "Sky tu n'aimes pas si bien? Ça va?" Elle a demandé et Sky a fait signe. "Oui, je pense que je suis juste fatiguée, j'ai été debout presque 48 heures avec peu de sommeil." "Bien Mike vient d'arriver, tu peux être coupé pour la journée si tu veux." Sky s'est réjoui de cette nouvelle. "Ce serait génial en fait. Je te verrai demain, alors, merci Alice." Elle a répondu avant d'aller à son bureau. En mettant son pull gris clair sur la robe de soleil rose clair qu'elle portait et en glissant son sac sur la tête, elle a finalement quitté la clinique, la cloche jonglant sur son long collier enchaîné. "J'ai besoin de café dès que possible," Sky s'est dit avant de monter dans sa voiture en conduisant à travers la ville vers le café. Il ne fait aucun doute dans son esprit que les autres étaient là, d'habitude. Au moment où elle était fatiguée cependant et elle n'avait pas encore rencontré son plus mystérieux John Doe. Au moment où elle est entrée dans le café après avoir garé sa voiture, elle a remarqué qu'Eddie, Terry, Daniel, Toby et Angel étaient là. Un nombre incroyablement important de la bande à cette heure-ci dans la matinée.

Name: Skylar Jane Montgomery Nickname: Sky or Fawn Birth Date: February 28 Age: 21 Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual In The Mirror In Depth Appearance: Unlike the slim figures of all the other women in the Montgomery family Sky got more of a curvy figure. Along with being 5"2 and having unusual grey eyes it was safe to say she stuck out a bit compared to her four sisters. Freckles dot her face and body being something she loathed as a child and something she`s come to find as apart of who she is as an adult. The sun is usually an enemy because of her pale skin color. Her hair is naturally red and is curly and thick. She`s learned after cutting it short once that it`s best to leave it long, it`s a untamable beast. The redness in her hair varies by season, in summer months it turns copper due to the sun, in winter it turns a crimson red color(her preferred color of her hair). When it comes to make up she would rather skip it for a more natural look, though she does like lipstick. Even though she hides it, because mostly everyone in the group finds her to be the innocent one, she has a tattoo of a broken heart on the right side of her ribcage. The reason behind this tattoo no living soul knows, no one even knows she has it. Clothing Style: Sky`s clothing choices vary by how she feels. On a Friday she might be feeling a edgy black dress with three inch wedges while on a Monday she`d be wearing a white sundress with a light pink sweater. There are also the days where she dresses up like what she calls "witchy" or "hippy" styles. You can be assured whatever she`d wearing always has a necklace though and if she`s not feeling well sweat pants usually follow. Delving Deeper Likes: Music Coffee Strawberry pastries Literature Cats Art Dislikes: Rap Dishonesty Cherry anything Body shaming Public Speaking Drugs Fears: Abandonment Hurting other people Alienation Always being seen as the little sister Habits: When she`s nervous she`ll often start spinning her necklace or a piece of jewelry she`s wearing at the time. As she gets excited she goes from speaking normally to loudly. Whenever she`s uncomfortable she puts her hair into a ponytail. Often stays up way too late at night. Personality: ♦ Clumsy ♦ Wise ♦ Warm-Hearted ♦ Understanding Even as a child most people said she was far beyond her years and as she reached her teen years people started to say she was the wise old woman in a teenager`s body. She tries to understand someone before she says anything against them. This leads to her being very trusting and understanding towards others. The advice she gives to problems is usually a lot more than someone her age should be able to give. It`s also one of her biggest downfalls as others can betray her quite easily. In all she`s rather clumsy and lightheaded, someone could tell her something and she`d forget it in two seconds. This has always been something she`s hated because while she`s very smart no one can see that with how forgetful and sporadic her nature is. In sad situations she feels rather uncomfortable, because while she tries her best to comfort someone she always feels like she`s doing everything wrong. Even though she looks down on herself a lot she does have confidence in her decisions and she believes that believing in yourself is the best thing you can do. She does feel like the owl represents her a lot. Like the owl she prefers being up all night than being awake during the day. It`s also seen as a wise creature and has aspects that she wants for herself, to be more precise and strong are two of them. Background: In her family there`s five daughters, Sky being the youngest. Meaning her childhood was full of hand-me-downs and often being misplaced. Her oldest sister Delilah is seven years older than her. The second and third daughters, Mary and May, are twins and are six years from Sky. Jamie who`s the closest to Sky at only two years apart. When Sky was born her parents had been hoping to finally have a boy. She`s always felt like her father didn`t approve of her because of this. The Montgomery family is known for being a very rich and successful family in a town a few towns away from Tallshade. As she grew up she had trouble trying to convince people she wasn`t a snob like they tried to make her believe. Many people bullied her for her intelligence and the difference of her looks compared to her sisters. Even her sisters would laugh and joke about how she was adopted. It really did make her feel like she had no one, her parents were always working, and it was very easy to just isolate herself in their huge house. Due to all of this she fell into depression and at some points self harmed. In high school she got involved in a lot of bad groups. She often snuck out to get high or drunk with people she thought were her friends. It wasn`t until she was almost 18 that things went completely downhill. At a party she overdosed unintentionally. If the cops hadn`t broken up the party a few minutes later she would have died. In the hospital her family didn`t have anything nice to say to her and only yelled at her for being so irresponsible. They sent her off to a clinic for 6 months and she was released when she turned 18. Instead of going back to her family she broke off all ties to them. She got a job and lived in a small apartment till she finished high school and got a broken heart tattooed on the right side of her ribs. She saved up money and moved to Tallshade to go to college as soon as she had enough money. It was a step by step process. The day she got to Tallshade she went to the Castle Street Café and ordered a cup of coffee and some breakfast. The things she owned were in a small suitcase next to her in the booth. As she sat there silently reading her book an older man came and sat across from her in the booth and ordered a drink from the waitress before looking at her. Sky asked him who he was and they eventually got into a conversation about her life somehow. She found out his name was Grimbold and he asked her if she wanted a way to completely change her life and be in an actual family for once, as long as she did what he said. It took awhile but she agreed and he told her to walk out of the shop and not pay for her coffee or breakfast. It was history after that and she`s been with the group for three years now. She finally has a place where she can be herself. Relationships: Sky thinks of the entire group as her family. As such she has compassion and understanding for all of them. Most she considers as friends and even if she doesn`t feel too confident in a member of their family she still treats them with respect and gives them the benefit of the doubt. ☮ Eddie ☮ - Eddie is a good guy, she finds it interesting to watch him tinker, and talking about fiction books is always fun. Sky always tries to convince him to like cats more. He`s the person she goes too to talk about the books she`s reading at the time. ☯ Terry ☯ - In Sky`s eyes Terry is alright, her observant nature makes her an okay person to talk too, although her crude nature sometimes makes her a bit uncomfortable. ☮ Sloane ☮ - When they first met she knew the woman didn`t think too highly of her, some friendships start out a bit rocky though. In present day she finds Sloane to be a very good friend of hers, even if they don`t agree on rap music. ☮ Rob(Foxy) ☮ - Foxy as she likes to call him. She likes to think of him like the older brother she never had as his middle name happens to be her last name. Like her she also values how he thinks of them like a family. ♥ Toby ♥ - Ever since she met him Sky`s always had a crush on Toby. At first she thought it was just his looks and tried to talk herself out of it. As she got to know him more she found to really like his calm nature and that he himself also had some bad experiences with drugs and such, in which she could relate. ⚡ Cara ⚡ - Cara makes Sky feel rather uneasy. While she seems very nice Sky can feel the other side of her personality and has seen it a few times. This rather scares her. On the outside Sky is usually very nice to her however. ☮ Nick ☮ - Much like most of the group she sees Nick as a younger brother. She likes that if either of them aren`t feeling talkative the other person can rant as long as they want. It can also just be a conversation or sitting in silence. ☯ Nina ☯ - At first Nina seemed like the type of person Sky would never be on great terms with. She was the queen bee in high school while Sky had been the rebellious/druggy girl. As time went on she`s started to become perfectly fine with her. Even if she`s hot tempered and can be rather hard to work with Nina does protect those she cares for and Sky admires that. ☮ Angel ☮ - Angel`s compassion is what Sky appreciates the most about her. Even though she went through some hard stuff in life she still jokes and laughs. In Sky`s eyes she`s the person to go to if you`re having a bad day. ☯ Danny ☯ - Sky can't say she knows Danny too much. He was here before she was. Danny keeps to himself but he's not a bad person at all. She does trust him even if they don't know a ton about eachother. Extra: Dark powers: Animal Form: pic of animal form goes here power: She can hear the darker parts of someone's mind. Regrets, pain, dark secrets, are just a few. When she uses this power it causes paranoia in the victim. Even though she is kindhearted and understanding the old dark side of her understands a lot of the thoughts she receives.

Teryn Ikeda Emplacement; Café Castle Street Interagir avec; Daniel Reyes Teryn est allée au comptoir et a pris son verre et s'était assise à l'une des tables alors qu'elle attendait que Daniel soit sur sa pause. Ça n'a pas pris aussi longtemps qu'elle s'y attendait. Elle n'avait même pas encore sorti ses affaires pour travailler sur les devoirs et étudier afin qu'elle puisse le faire pendant qu'elle l'attendait. "Nous pouvons rester ici bien que je puisse demander plus de votre temps après votre quart," dit-elle avant de souffler dans son chai latte. Elle avait remarqué que pour une raison quelconque, beaucoup de gens dans leur petite secte était dans le café aujourd'hui. Ou peut-être qu'ils sont venus ici tout le temps, pas qu'elle le saurait puisque ce n'était pas sa scène. Aucun de ceux qui étaient là n'aimait beaucoup d'elle, alors elle laissa leur présence passer inaperçue. "Alors... J'ai besoin de votre aide pour la mission », a-t-elle dit doucement. Elle évita de regarder Daniel et se concentra intensément sur sa coupe. Elle détestait demander de l'aide et l'a rarement fait. "Bien sûr, je vous en dois une... Alors...p-p-s'il vous plaît, aidez-moi," a-t-elle ajouté, étouffant sur un certain mot magique. Elle a pris une gorgée de son chai latte et ça a brûlé sa langue. Elle a un peu clin d'oeil à la douleur et n'a pas pu s'empêcher de sortir sa pauvre langue. Comme tout cela était honteux. Elle avait besoin d'aide et elle avait l'air d'une idiote.

Teryn Ikeda "I just can't deal with people right now... or ever."- -Teryn IkedaPersonal Information Name: Teryn Kanae Ikeda Nickname: Terry, TK, Scary Terry (Though she would glare at you for calling her this) Birth Date: February 20th, 19XX Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual but starting to feel a bit bi-curious. In The Mirror In Depth Appearance: Terry is fairly tall for a Japanese girl, standing at 5"7. She has long, sleek black hair and always gets it cut in the same blunt fashion. Don't even bother trying to ask her to change her hair because it will never happen. She has pale skin from lack of sun exposure and delicate facial features. Some might say she has a "resting bitch face", but at least she makes up for it with her nice, slim body. Her brown eyes are cold and always seem like they're looking straight through you. Clothing Style: Terry likes to wear long-sleeved dresses paired off with tights or lace leggings. She enjoys wearing lace a lot. She generally wears a lot of black but also likes other dark colors like dark red because they don't make her look like a ghost. She wears a lot of accessories such as scarves, hats, sunglasses, and more to add more to her look. When she feels lazy, she'll wear an oversized sweater and leggings. Her shoes of choice are heels because she likes feeling tall and believes they show off her legs more. Delving Deeper Likes: Cloudy days Art History Shiny objects Mint Tea Photography Dislikes: Sunlight Heavy foods Racist jokes about her ethnicity Loud noises Dogs Fears: Her Grandmother Dying The Ocean Habits: Rolling her eyes Chewing mint-flavored gum Putting on sunblock Personality: ♦ Observant ♦ Cynical ♦ Stubborn ♦ Standoffish Terry isn't the most optimistic person around. She doesn't have that much faith in others and more than often assumes the worse will occur. Regardless, she thinks highly of herself and her ability to be able to observe the world around her. However, once she believes she is correct about something, it is hard for anyone to convince her otherwise even if she was actually wrong. It is rather hard for her to make friends because of this, but she is not necessarily a bad person, just a hard person to get along with. It suits her fine though, she doesn't feel like she needs friends anyways. Background: Terry had a normal childhood. Her dad was a somewhat wealthy business man and her mother was a stay at home mom. She was never neglected or abused. Her grandmother was always harsh and scary, but besides that Terry lived a peaceful life. She was never good at making friends and was only average in her school work. Her parents always let her do what she wanted, which wasn't much. She simply wanted to be alone and have a nice camera to take photos with. Tallshade was a weird town. Perfect for an outcast like Terry. She was looking up universities her junior year of high school when she discovered Tallshade. She particularly liked the fact that it was dark and covered in shade half of the year. She managed to convince her parents to let her apply to the small university there and found out that she was accepted her senior year. At the university, she is currently studying as an art history major. One day after class, she went into the woods to take some photos. A strange, old man approached her. She tried to ignore him at first, but he began to talk to her. He offered to give her powers as long as she promised to do what he said. It felt like a scene from Harry Potter which wasn't a good thing because she hated the series, but decided to accept his offer. Actually now that she thought about it, she still didn't know why she accepted his offer. He was very convincing... Position in the group: Terry understands that they are all working together for some unknown cause so she simply sees them as a group of coworkers or a rag-tag team. She would be the quiet one who does what she is supposed to do, but would never go the extra lengths to befriend everyone. ☮Sloane: Terry admires Sloane's artistic abilities and finds her to be an agreeable person. Terry isn't sure whether or not they could be considered friends, but Terry respects Sloane and is more likely to listen to her than to others. ☯Eddie: Terry has noticed that Eddie is very much a pushover. He appears to be afraid of her so they don't talk much. She is somewhat amused by the fact that she intimidates him so much but doesn't know a lot about him besides the obvious. ☯Nina: Nina likes to be in the center of attention, Terry doesn't. Nina isn't the nicest person around but as long as she doesn't bother her, Terry is fine with it. ☯Robert: Terry is quick to put Robert down when he tries to get her and the others to join in on his schemes. She believes that he is childish and arrogant. Despite the fact that he should know very well that she doesn't like him, he still tries to talk to her from time to time and she can't figure out why. She is interested in his music and poetry, but would never vocally express that. ☯Tobias: Well, she won't deny that he is easy on the eyes. But that's about it. They don't bother to talk to each other at all. ⚡Cara: At first glance, Cara is like Terry's opposite. Though Terry is aware of her somewhat two-faced nature, she doesn't care. All she knows is that she won't be falling for her 'sweet smile'. Still, she tends to stay away from Cara. Something about her just rubs Terry the wrong way, well more than most people do. ☮ Nick: She has sort of a soft spot for Nick, probably because he is so youngand she never had siblings before. She's very subtle about it though. For instance, she isn't as harsh and not as likely to shoot him down. She also keeps an eye out for him and would be willing to show him her photos from time to time. ☯Skye: She's a very nice person. Not a person Terry would associate herself with, but still Skye is a good person. ☯Angel: Terry's aware that Angel doesn't like her, but doesn't let it bother too much. She won't argue needlessly with the girl, but she won't try to get her to like her either. ☯Daniel: Though they don't talk, he seems like a person that Terry could get along with. He seems to understand her better than most people and gets that she is just who she is. Extra: Terry is like bazillionth-generation Japanese American so she doesn't even know how to speak Japanese. She will begrudgingly admit that she had watch anime when she was younger but will deny that she watches them anymore. The secret to her classic hair style? She cuts it herself because she doesn't even trust a hair stylist with it. Dark powers: Animal Form: Raven Power: She can create light breezes that could result in things like bad hair days and important papers getting lost

Daniel Reyes Lieu: Café Castle Street Interagir avec: Teryn C'était épouvantable presque pendant que Daniel regardait plus de membres de sa famille sombre marcher à travers la porte du Café. Teryn fut le premier bientôt suivi par Angel et Tobias. Mais peu de temps après que Daniel s'est assis à la table de Teryn, Eddie et Sky sont entrés l'un dans l'autre. Il n'était en aucun cas superstitieux, mais c'était comme un présage avec tant d'entre eux rassemblés dans un lieu public comme celui-ci. C'était stupide de voir comme chacun d'entre eux était pratiquement un présage de marche, des présageurs de malchance et de malveillance. Cependant, cela semblait différent. Peut-être que c'était juste les chuchotements persistants des événements d'hier soir qui pèsent encore lourd dans son esprit, mais ils ne se sont jamais rassemblés comme ça à moins que ce ne soit sous la lumière de la pleine lune profonde dans les bois. S'efforçant d'ignorer le frisson froid qui l'a poussé jusqu'à la colonne vertébrale, Daniel retourna son attention à Teryn pendant qu'elle parlait. Il était un peu hésitant maintenant qu'elle demandait sa présence après le travail. "Ça devrait être bien. Je descends à 1h et je n'ai rien prévu après le travail... » L'hésitation de Daniel s'est vite évanouie bien qu'après qu'il ait remarqué à quel point elle était insupportable. Ça doit être dur pour elle de demander de l'aide. Pauvre fille... Il se sentait mal maintenant qu'il avait des doutes au début au sujet de ses intentions. Elle avait simplement besoin d'aide pour la mission que Grimbold leur avait assignée. Il s'est ridiculisé mentalement pour son manque de confiance, mais c'était plus sûr de cette façon. "Je vais t'aider mais ne t'inquiète pas de me devoir quoi que ce soit..." Daniel se sentirait coupable si elle se sentait redevable envers lui. Le fait qu'elle se sente capable de lui faire confiance, c'est un paiement suffisant. Peut-être qu'à son tour il apprendrait à lui faire confiance aussi.

Name: Daniel Anton Reyes Nickname: Danny Birth Date: June 3rd Age: 23 Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual In The Mirror In Depth Appearance: Daniel hides his emotions behind a veil of sea green eyes and controlled expressions. His perfectly arched eyebrows and flawless skin are merely a reflection of his upbringing and the mask his father unknowingly created. The only true expression of himself is the wild nature of his messy brown hair and small smiles he sometimes allows himself to show. Danny is average height for his age, standing at 5’8” and has a lean muscular build. Clothing Style: Not liking to stand out, his wardrobe consists mostly of simple neutral colored button-ups with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and a pair of comfortable jeans, dark blue or black. His shoe of choice is a pair of black high-top Converse. The only indication of his rebellious nature is a black studded belt he wears around his waist. Delving Deeper Guarded ♦ Observant ♦ Wary ♦ Rebellious Background & Personality (because I believe it takes one to determine the other): From a young age Daniel has learned to create a different outward persona dependent upon what the situation calls for at the time. Being raised in upscale Paris by his father, money, and a prestigious name to boot, appearances were everything. Social functions, garden parties, hosting important people from around the world. These were but a few examples of Daniel’s childhood. While other children his age were fussing over skinned knees and the newest video game, young Daniel was expected to be seen but not heard. Raised to be the heir to eventually take over his father’s company; composed, reserved, only speak when spoken to, everything you do elegant and refined. Everything was fine at first because he didn’t know any different. It was simply the world he lived in. But as he reached his teenage years Daniel’s observant nature started telling him a different story. A story of cloaks-and-daggers, false smiles and pretty lies. Friendly conversation was only a guise for some deeper ill intent. All the pretty gowns and well-tailored suits he had admired as a child became loud exclamations of one’s wealth and nothing more. His father’s stern lectures and strict instructions for Daniel’s upbringing turned out to be no more than a business plan for his future heir. There was no longer any warmth in his father’s eyes nor kindness in his words. If they had ever been there to begin with Daniel no longer trusted himself to know. He lost trust in people and closed himself off, becoming wary of the deeper meaning behind their intentions. This also led to a rebellious streak in Daniel. Not the kind of hell-raising rebellion they show in movies, but the more subtle rebellion of not listening to orders or making a rude comment to a guest while he knew his father was watching. However, these rebellious outbursts were few and far between as he didn’t like bringing more attention to himself than was necessary. He already had enough of that as it is. Hating the idea of being his father’s puppet and being no more than a pretty face with a powerful name, Daniel decided to run away when he turned 18. Saving up his allowance over the years and claiming his inheritance at his coming of age party granted him the ability to do just that. He sat through the tutoring sessions his father arranged and continued to smile gracefully at his father’s side. When the time finally came, under the cloak of darkness while the mansion slept, Daniel packed as much clothing and various necessities as he could fit in a backpack and fled. He hailed a taxi to the airport and bought the soonest ticket out of Paris. This led him to Tallshade, a tiny town in America nestled between a huge forest at the base of a mountain. The perfect sense of seclusion he had been looking for. Seemingly isolated from the rest of the world, it gave Daniel the freedom to make a new life for himself. However, he learned real quick how unforgiving the world can be. He also soon realized that he didn’t really possess a true identity for himself. Having grown up in the shadow of his father and knowing nothing other than what he had been taught, who was he now that he was free from all that? Who was Daniel Reyes when we wasn’t acting the perfect model son? He had a collection of “masks” and nothing more. He settled down in a modest apartment and stashed his money somewhere out of sight. Daniel didn’t want to have to rely on his namesake to get what he needed but having it readily available gave him a security blanket to fall back on should he need it. He did odd jobs around town, took a couple random classes at the local university, anything to give him a sense of purpose in a world that was foreign to him. The one thing he was grateful for however, was all the language classes his father made him take. He couldn’t imagine how much of a nightmare arriving in a new country would be not knowing the language. He spoke with a subtle French accent but was able to be understood by the locals well enough. Daniel met Grimbold one night when he decided to take a late night walk to clear his head. He had been feeling especially lost lately and homesick in a Stockholm’s Syndrome sort of way. He rationalized this by telling himself it was the security of familiarity and structure that he missed. Settled down amongst the grass in a clearing in the woods, he stared up at the stars and wished for things he couldn’t have. Almost as if in answer, The Mentor appeared as quiet as a whisper and promised him freedom and power, among other things. He had been chosen for a reason, Grimbold told him. There were others too. The only condition was to serve him whenever Daniel was called upon. That almost caused Daniel to deny the old man on the spot. Here was another puppetmaster looking to take hold of Daniel’s severed strings. However, Daniel couldn’t sense any hidden agendas or twisted ideals from the man and the promise of purpose and a place to belong was too strong a temptation to ignore. Looking back on it now, Daniel should’ve seen it as an omen, something too good to be true. He was right back at square one, taking orders from a higher power for some unknown greater purpose. But 5 years later Daniel finds himself working as a barista at the local coffeehouse, still obeying The Mentor’s wishes when the time came. Likes: People-watching Being around people but not overly interacting with them Books/Reading Running Pastries/Bread Dislikes: Bringing unnecessary attention to himself Being forced to do something Alcohol and the loss of control it provides Sycophants, brown-nosers Anything that reminds him of his past life Fears: Losing purpose Removing his “mask” Getting close to anyone and getting hurt Being found and brought back to Paris Habits: Tends to fake smiles out of habit due to his upbringing Closes his eyes when a situation makes him feel uncomfortable Leaves unannounced to go for a run to clear his head, sort his thoughts Night owl and suffers from slight insomnia Position in the Group: Hangs out in the background to observe others. Doesn’t trust easily and even though he’s been in this for the better part of 5 years, Daniel still feels like everyone is merely an acquaintance and prefers to keep it that way. He’ll never admit it aloud but he’s afraid of letting others in. He admires everyone in the group, mostly for things he feels he lacks, but feels safer keeping everyone in neutral standing and only working together as a team if it’s absolutely necessary. ☯ Eddie – Seems nice enough. Appreciates his honesty. ☯ Teryn – Feels he can relate with her on an indirect level due to both their tendencies to not trust easily. She can sometimes come off as rude or defensive but he can respect that she has her reasons as he has his. ☯ Sloane – He admires her sense of individuality and confidence. ☯ Robert – Seems like a troublemaker but Daniel can appreciate his sense of adventure and spontaneity. ☯ Tobias – Feels almost as if they could be twin brothers but will not openly acknowledge this. ☯ Cara – He knows all too well of her fake smiles and pretty words and sees her as an annoying little sister-type. ☯ Nick – Jealous of his carefree nature and lack of worry of what the future might bring. ☯ Nina – Likes her confidence but gets annoyed by her spoiled attitude towards others. Enjoys having someone to talk to in his native language. ☯ Angel – Intrigued by her ability to blend in and relate to anybody. Thankful for her humor that quickly diffuses tense situations. ☯ Sky – Respects her maturity and feels like she would listen the most if he ever felt the need to confide in someone. Dark Powers: Animal Form: Black Bat Power: Echolocation Being able to cause headaches from as minor as a constant throbbing to as severe as vertigo, dizziness and a loss of balance. Much like how bats use echolocation by creating a sound and processing the information they receive from the echo, Daniel uses his power by whistling while maintaining line of sight with his target. He is also able to determine the severity of the target's headache by changing the pitch of his whistle. Prolonged use of his power causes Daniel to become extremely fatigued. EDIT: Updated information on how Daniel uses his power.

Ange Hardwicke Lieu; Château Street Café Interagir avec; Tobias & Eddie Angel a trouvé un sentiment de soulagement avec la réponse de Toby à elle - heureux qu'elle n'était pas la seule qui avait eu des problèmes avec ce qui s'était passé hier soir - ou, à tout le moins, la seule qui a ressenti le besoin d'en parler. Elle était nouvelle dans ce groupe - pour tous Angel savait, parler de leurs "Esteemed-Leader" aux autres pourrait être un billet d'aller à n'importe quelle dimension dans laquelle l'âme de Swan avait été aspirée. À la question de Toby, Angel a pris quelques bouches de son milkshake alors qu'elle pensait à sa réponse dans sa tête. Elle ne voulait pas se retrouver comme une jeune fille impuissante, qui n'avait pas une cellule cérébrale dans sa jolie tête pour régler ses problèmes - à quel point cela pourrait-il être difficile de garder une adolescente dans un samedi soir? "Eh bien... Je n'y ai pas trop pensé. J'avais besoin de dormir hier soir et de manger ce matin - maintenant que j'y réfléchis vraiment, je suis juste coincé sur la façon dont l'enfer mon petit pouvoir va m'aider." Elle a répondu honnêtement après quelques instants, fronçant légèrement dans sa situation difficile. Elle avait utilisé son pouvoir encore moins que ses capacités changeantes - parce que comment en Enfer Déjà Vu aide-t-elle une fille? Elle ne pouvait même pas l'utiliser pour faire oublier les devoirs de son professeur, parce qu'ils l'oublieraient un moment, et ensuite revenir sur la bonne voie. Au mieux, il les a fait perdre la trace de quelque chose au milieu de la sentence ; et Angel a fait cela elle-même sans aucune puissance vaudou l'affectant. Et si elle s'est concentrée trop longtemps, son propre cerveau est devenu flou et oublieux. Bien que, cela pourrait être parce qu'elle ne savait pas comment l'utiliser correctement. Elle était sur le point de continuer, peut-être même demander de l'aide à Toby, comme il avait eu beaucoup d'années plus d'expérience qu'elle, quand Eddie est passé. Angel le regardait presque curieusement comme il parlait, voyant qu'il semblait plus nerveux à propos de toute la situation qu'elle, une nouvelle, ne l'a fait. Cependant, d'après ce qu'elle pouvait considérer de la personnalité d'Eddie dans son ensemble, il était enclin à être nerveux à propos des choses plus qu'elle ne l'était. Quelle que soit la façon dont la timidité de l'homme l'a quelque peu perturbée (comme elle le ferait pour n'importe quelle fille comme avisée, et ouvertement parlée de ces opinions, comme elle-même), elle a offert son sourire habituel comme elle a répondu. « Eh bien, le début de la nuit était à peu près aussi bizarre que je m'y attendais - les choses ont certainement tourné vers le sud quand nous sommes tous allés à Animal Farm cependant. »

Name: Angeline Megara Hardwicke Nickname: Angel Birth Date: 24th November Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual In The Mirror In Depth Appearance: Angel stands at a less than average height of 5’5, along with a slim hourglass figure, and a heart-shaped face; atop of which sits a mess of chocolate brown curls, often worn in a myriad of different styles, and various shades of brown depending on how she feels like dyeing it. Her eyes are a bright, clear blue, standing out thanks to her dark lashes and brows. Her tanned skin is mostly unmarred, barring tiny scars here and there from scuffles in the past and childhood accidents. Clothing Style: Angel’s clothing style very much changes with the wind and her mood – some days she’ll favour darker clothes in a punk style, paired with heavy make-up and an obvious attitude. Other days she’ll be natural, wearing dresses of various styles and colours and accompanying accessories. And then the day after that she’ll just dress comfortably, wearing jeans and over-sized sweaters. The only clothes that rarely change are her pyjamas – anything with teddy bears. Because teddy bears are awesome, guys. Delving Deeper Likes: Anything fluffy – particularly animals. Face Painting (Well, any form of painting really, but face painting is a fun pastime for her.) Way too Loud music (Particularly rock) Cooking Steak (Cooked blue – any more than that is blasphemy, in her eyes.) Puns, quips, innuendos, and double entendres. (She’ll even sometimes sink so low as to pull the ‘That’s what he/she said’ joke.) Chocolate Day-dreaming ELECTRIC GUITAAAAAARRRRRRR Marvel Nature, and all of her destructive and calm feelings. Dislikes: Marvel-bashers Screamo or death metal Messing up her paintings Nosiness Apathy Slyness Ignorance The ever growing cacophony of irritating sounds often found issuing from children and babies. Fears: Heights Insects and arachnids Dying in some kind of meaningless, pointless manner. Not having left something worthwhile on this earth before she dies. Habits: Humming snatches of songs, or simply guitar riffs, under her breath. Tapping out drum beats. Day dreaming, zoning out, or losing track of a conversation mid-sentence. Clinging to a point rather stubbornly, should she believe she is correct and the other person is wrong. Personality: Entertaining ♦ Stubborn ♦ Opinionated ♦ Warm-Hearted ♦ Sharp Despite the fact her looks – and occasionally scatter-braininess - can make Angel seem like a wee naive girl, she is far from it. She knows far more than she lets on, and she will never let anyone take advantage of her. However, when looking at what Angel truly is like, it is plain to see she can make quite the courteous friend. Not only is she happy to lend an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on, but she gives fairly shrewd advice to people’s problems, in the hopes of helping them. Because of this, she is hardly one to judge others for their acts. One perspective of a story is hardly going to change her opinion of someone. Additionally, she’s quick to make jokes or light-hearted remarks in the hopes of getting someone’s spirits up. Humour rarely fails her, and is a very easy thing to fall back on. As for her stubbornness... well, it’s a miracle her animal form isn’t a Bull. If she has a point in an argument she will fight it as long she believes she is correct – which can definitely cause irritation for others around her, but she does certainly enjoy being right in her views... not that that means she is not open to other people’s opinions. When it comes to hard facts, she will happily accept it if she is wrong in something. As for opinions, everyone is entitled to have them – unless some poor ignorant fool is under the impression that their opinions are indeed facts. In which case, she’s happy to deliver a few sharp words towards said ignoramous. Background: Angel has been living in Tallshade for a good few months now, alongside her younger brother and Uncle. Prior to this, the last time she could remember a normal home life was when she was 9 years old, and still living in England with her brother, and parents. As such, life was pretty good. Her Mother was a Detective, her Father was in the army, and she was doing pretty good in terms of friends and school. Even with an annoying 5-year-old brother hanging around her at all times. Except, this annoying little brother arriving was one of the few good things she could remember in this time of her life – for a few months after her ninth birthday, her Mother died. A police raid gone wrong or something. She was too young to be given all of the details, not that it made it any easier. It had been while her Dad was away, on a tour in some country that she couldn’t pronounce yet. Naturally, he came home early, to attend the funeral and look after his young children. Shortly after this, he left the Army, under Compassionate leave. However, his time abroad had left its mark already – he’d seen such horrors, comrades blown apart before him, that things weren’t so perfect for him mentally. He became paranoid, plagued with nightmares and the inclination that someone had killed his Wife, and was then after him and his two children. Just before Angel’s tenth birthday, their house was sold and they moved to America. From there, they lived a very uncomfortable nomadic lifestyle – travelling from state to state when their Father became certain “people” had followed him there. He acted in the attempt to save his family, and Angel understood that. She knew her Dad was sick, so she just helped look after her brother and kept her head down in school, never really answering truthfully when people asked her why she never stayed for long. However, she knew something had to be done when he grew distrustful of her. Over the years she was maturing into a young lady, body and accent changing – but in her Father’s demented mind, she should still be his little nine year old. She became unrecognizable, and after she came home from school one day at the age of 16, he attacked her, thinking she was some kind of assassin that had broken in. Evading her Father, Angel fled the home with her brother, heading straight to the nearest police station for aid. She knew this would mean social services would get involved, but she couldn’t live with her Dad anymore, not when he was quite capable of killing her and her brother in their sleep. After a few weeks of wrapping their heads around their case, and a few foster homes, social services were able to find a relative of theirs living in America. Although the offer to go back to England was there, Angel decided remaining in the USA was better. She didn’t particularly want to remain in the same country as her Dad (Who was being deported back to the UK to receive mental help), but she knew this life better than her English life. Their fathers cousin – they simply call him Uncle James, it’s easier – happily took them in, being childless himself, and after a few years living in rainy Washington, James’ work had them moved to Tallshade. Now 20 years old, Angel is approaching her final year at University, studying Psychology. Over the years, she has also developed into a low-key rebel. Although not far rebellious enough to joy-ride vehicles or break into houses, she does partake in some amusing deviant acts. Her Uncle is quite lax when it comes to curfews, but had they been in place, she wouldn’t have paid attention to them anyway. Also, as a lover of art, she is quite happy to graffiti the town – nothing as crude as tags, but things that actually look nice. This was how she came across the Mentor. Late one night, she was busy spraying a moonlit lake on a wall when he appeared behind her, at first complimenting her art... and then asking her to spray something for him. Although dubious at first, she swiftly deduced that he wasn’t a cop – a cop would have arrested her already. So, she quite happily sprayed a pentagram on the church wall prior to his instructions (And thoroughly enjoying the irony behind said act), and from there, the conversation grew far more... odd. Now here she is with super-powers like the guys in her favourite movies, and doing things for a guy for reasons unknown to her... Position in the group & Relationships: Quite easily, Angel is the joker of the group. The first to make a quip or crack a joke in a tense situation, and an easy-going source of entertainment. She's also in the younger half of the group, which makes her far more likely to look for support from the older ones - being the caretaker of her brother from a young age, it's a refreshing change. Although happy to take charge if needed, she’s more than at ease to let someone else take the job. ☮Robert☮ The boy is an adventure-loving musician; what's not to love? He isn't too hard on the eyes either... ☮Toby☮ Has a pretty calming air about him. Seems like a dependable friend. ☮Cara☮ Ah. Bluntness. What a refreshing change in this world of political correctness. Also a potential foe when it comes to debating. ☮Nick☮ Hell, the boy can draw. He seems pretty sweet too - although not overly so, thankfully. His bootlegging of alcohol tells me that. ☮Nina☮ If I were to describe her in one word, it would be bitch. But hell, being a bitch isn't always a bad thing. I do admire girls and their claws, and she's got the sharpest of them all. Quite the hellion one looks for in a friend. ☯Eddie☯ Seems kind of meek, not really one to stand up for himself. Which is slightly irritating, but hey, the guy hasn't done anything bad to me. ☯Sloane☯ A fellow admirer of art, and isn't irritating so far. ⚡Teryn⚡ Ugh. I admire stubbornness, but clinging to one's opinions when proven wrong is pathetic. Lady also has some severe issues with everything and everyone, it would seem. Also, she hates dogs. Who hates dogs? THEY'RE SO FLUFFY! ☮Skylar☮ Reminds me of me, somewhat – although she seems sweeter than myself. A good friend – almost motherly, which is appreciated more than she knows. ☯Daniel☯ He seems nice enough, but is almost like a puzzle – one which I am itching to try and solve. Extra: Likes to partake in some underage drinking – moreso than what one would consider to be healthy. Dotes on the family dog – a clumsy Alsatian by the name of Dexter. Is a supreme geek lord – will thrash your ass in any trivia in regards to her favourite fantasy novels or media. Thanks to an extremely paranoid crazy army dad, was taught how to use Morse Code from a very young age. Dark powers: Animal Form: Black Coyote Power: Déjà Vu: Can give the feeling of Déjà Vu to anyone, by wiping their memory from the past few seconds – this can cause slight disorientation, or simply a repetition of a phrase or sentence. Useful if she needs to record or remember a conversation, or slip away without them realising.

Sloane Shields Emplacement: Boucliers d'encre Interagir avec Cara Sloane a mis son sac derrière le comptoir, téléphone sur le dessus, et s'est assis au tabouret face à l'entrée. Elle a vérifié son classeur de rendez-vous pour la quatrième fois ce jour-là et a soupiré dans l'ennui aux colonnes blanches avant que ses yeux dérivent vers la porte à l'étage, d'où son gros chat s'est enfui. « Tu n'as pas le droit ici, Nox, dit-elle, de regarder la tige féline se frotter contre son jean. En roulant les yeux, Sloane s'étendit tout simplement vers son sac pour aller chercher son carnet de croquis et une petite sélection de plomb et d'encre. Après avoir regardé à l'horloge, elle a ramassé où elle s'est arrêtée sur un croquis d'une rose décorée. La boutique de tatouage était silencieuse, sauf pour le bas bourdonnement du chauffage. La stéréo était hors-la-typique pour Ink Shields à moins qu'un client n'y soit coincé pendant des heures et qu'il veuille de la musique de fond. C'était agaçant, mais Sloane n'était pas douée pour la petite conversation destinée à divertir les clients pendant qu'elle travaillait. Sloane aimait le calme... et le rugissement d'une moto qui s'approchait était tout sauf. Elle regarda par la fenêtre que Cara s'approchait avant de laisser tomber ses yeux verts sur son dessin. Elle a rapidement ajouté une touche finale, et Sloane a mis de côté son carnet de croquis quand son amie a marché à travers la porte et l'a saluée. -- Doucement, dit-elle, tout simplement, tout droit, avec un soupir. "De quoi a-t-il besoin? Tu veux du thé ou du café? Comme elle l'a demandé, elle s'est hissée à l'eau (chaud ou froid), aux sachets de thé et au café instantané qu'elle avait mis en place par les chaises pour aider les clients. Nox s'est révélé de derrière le comptoir pour saluer Cara avec une douceur.

You should never feel afraid to become a piece of art. Personal Information NAME Sloane Shields NICKNAMES Ona: given to her by her grandfather, but only her immediate family wastes time giving her name an extra syllable. Lo: she was first called this by her high school sweetheart and resents it being used by anyone else. BIRTH DATE November 21, 1990 AGE 25 GENDER Female SEXUALITY Bisexual In The Mirror APPEARANCE Her pale green eyes stand out the most: although mostly a light and icy green, flecks of deeper emerald and gold dot the irises. She tends to wear dark eyeliner and eye shadow that compliments the color. Sloane’s skin is dark brown in contrast, and she wears make up to accent her high cheekbones. Her dreadlocks are dark brown–nearly black–in color and are styled like a Mohawk with both sides shaved close to her scalp. She walks with a tall, confident demeanor and tends to wear a combination of tight pants and layered tanktops to show off her tattoo sleeves. Toned arms and legs stretch far, emphasizing her height and slimness–high heels help, too. Her nails are typically painted black, but are sometimes accented with whites, golds, reds, or purples as well. She also has tattoos behind her ear, neck, on her back and legs, hips, below her chest, and..elsewhere. Said tattoos include but are not limited to her zodiac sign, favorite quote, a semi-colon, and tribal designs. When it comes to jewelry, she has small gauges in her ears and long necklaces that dangle over her chest. She’ll sometimes have thick bracelets and rings on, as well. In her heels, she stands over 6' tall and weighs about 140 lbs. Notable tattoos: due to her dark skin, plain black tattoos are less than flashy. So she uses a lot of color in her work. On her left wrist is a compass, splattered with water color ink. The compass bleeds up her arm and into the rest of her sleeve. On the inside of her opposite arm is her first tattoo, gotten while taking Latin her freshmen year of high school: carpe noctem is scripted in hard, bold letters. This arm is sleeved, too, and compliments the phrase though overall it's not as colorful as her left arm. On her back is a decorated tree, decorated with reds and oranges. Finally, "1988" scripted on the side of her left ring finger. This is Winston's--her high school sweetheart's--birth year. These aren't all of her tattoos, but probably her most notable / important ones. CLOTHING A little athletic, a little slutty, all sexy: Sloane has a lean, beautiful body and she isn't afraid to show it off or the tattoos that decorate it. Her style can be described as a little grunge and a little street; she's always looks ready to go to a club. And unless she's working out, she's wearing heels. Sample wardrobe: X X X X X X X X Delving Deeper ♦ Ambitious ♦ Cold ♦ Creative ♦ Independent PESONALITY When it comes to people, she can come off friendly enough, though she’s rather apathetic behind the smiles. She’s far more interested in art and animals and magic, but she recognizes the importance and usefulness in others. Still, when her mood is soured, she can be sadistic and cruel to those she feel has wronged her–though, at times, she finds herself acting pointlessly cruel sometimes out of impatience or defensiveness. Needless to say, Sloane tends to look out for herself before others. However, she can easily bond with another over similar interests. She likes being active and loves to travel when she’s commissioned for a tattoo from someone out of town. Her less-than-conservative style stands out in a small town and she welcomes rumors of her being in a cult or a witch or in a gang or anything. LIKES Animals Art (tattoos, photography, paint, you name it) Foreign movies Tea Dance and rap Cities DISLIKES People (especially dull men) Feeling dumb: she dropped out of high school so, while clever, she isn't educated. And this can lead her to feeling self conscious about her intelligence. Fast food Boy bands Ross from FRIENDS FEARS Death Weakness Intimacy HABITS Playing with her hair StaringDoodling if she has a pen or pencil in hand BACKGROUND Sloane was born to an interracial couple (most notably of Sudanese and Iranian descent among others), but was raised by her mother and grandfather. There isn't much else to be said for the early years of her life because she was raised happily and healthily. Her sense of style growing up scared away potential friends, as she tended to take on a gothic/emo appearance, but she was content. And she was particularly happy when her first boyfriend (who on the surface was an idiot but friendly jock) asked her out and they became an item. They were happy together for only about six months: A particularly romantic Valentines Day led to a teen pregnancy with her first boyfriend. With support from both their families, she had planned to raise it with him. However, he died in an accident and she put the baby up for adoption instead--this being her biggest regret and a decision she made out of grief. Then she dropped out of her sophomore year of high school to become a tattoo artist. Neither her grandfather nor mother were very happy, but they tried to be supportive due to the tragic loss. While other people studied through and graduated from high school, Sloane spent those years studying the art of tattoos. She was a fast learner and talented artist. And now, at 25, she owns her own tattoo shop and apartment above it: Ink Shields. It's of course popular with university students, but she gets both people travelling far and paid extra to leave town for her artwork. It was soon after dropping out of high school that the Mentor appeared before her and gave her first task: key some guy's car. She was in a vulnerable place emotionally and psychologically, so she did. And the powers and the sense of family that came with them allowed her to toughen up and grow into the woman she is today. RELATIONSHIPS What I'm thinking so far (correct me if I'm mischaracterizing anyone): Sloane can come off as the stern but caring big-sister type. However, the latter is a lot harder to see, and she has little patience for weaknesses in herself or others. Terry: likes Terry enjoys her company as they have a lot of common--including the types of issues they face being a minority in a small town. She sees herself in Terry. Eddie: she has nothing against Eddie personally, but he seems to lack spine. She's impatient and snippy with him, partly because he just lets her. Robert: Finds him impulsive and obnoxious, but she knows there's more to him than that. He's not afraid to speak his mind, which she can at least respect. Cara: she comes off as friendly enough, but Sloane has seen the control freak side as well. She doesn't really mind allowing Cara to do what she wants, it's usually harmless to her. Toby: Dick. Sloane is p sure he's afraid of her since he doesn't always speak up. Makes her want to antagonize him more. Nina: They're both powerful, confident, and ambitious. So alike that they clash: Nina is really the only other member she considers worthy of rivalry. Nick: He's refreshing and bright--probably partly because he's the youngest of the group. But she admires his work and sees potential in Nick. Probably particularly protective of him. Angel: She doesn't have a problem with Angel; the girl seems tough as nails and Sloane admires her confidence. She's not ignorant to the issues between her and Terry, though, and would like to see them get along. Sky: Sloane was less than impressed with Sky when they first meant, but the woman's kindness and wisdom grew on her over time. And while she considers her a friend, she's also attracted to her as a person. EXTRA She has a Maine Coon named Nox. Her favorite color is deep red and she likes the scent of leather. Song: Life in Her Yet by Rag’n’Bone Man and Muse by OCAD. Dark Powers ANIMAL FORM Sloane's deer form is, of course, black as coal. However, she's relatively large for what would be a female deer, but nothing impossible for the species. Ironically, deer--especially does--are docile creatures whereas Sloane is anything but; however, she shares its lean, graceful figure and long limbs. POWER Umbra: Sloane can darken and manipulate shadows to a small degree, creating what would otherwise be a trick of the eye. She has exercised control over the power; however, her mental state can easily affect her control. Rage or depression can cause the lights to flicker and dim.

Teryn Ikeda Emplacement; Café Castle Street Interagir avec; Daniel Reyes Teryn était un peu soulagée que Daniel soit prêt à l'aider malgré son embarras. Elle n'avait jamais demandé de l'aide à qui que ce soit dans le groupe auparavant, ni à qui que ce soit non plus. Ce serait... intéressant de voir ce qui pourrait arriver quand elle combine des forces avec une autre créature maudite. Cependant, elle ne pouvait tolérer l'idée de ne pas lui rendre la faveur d'une manière ou d'une autre. C'était inacceptable et sa fierté ne le permettra pas si Daniel la laissait tomber comme ça. Elle n'allait pas prendre l'habitude de demander de l'aide aux gens sans faire quelque chose pour eux en retour. « Merci, mais j'insiste pour rendre la pareille », a-t-elle dit moins nerveusement. Elle était maintenant capable de le regarder de nouveau dans les yeux et elle tenait son regard fort. "Je ferais tout ce que vous voulez, en tenant compte des raisons bien sûr. Il pourrait être quelque chose d'aussi simple que d'acheter votre déjeuner, alors s'il vous plaît pensez à quelque chose." C'était tout ce qu'elle avait à lui dire pour le moment jusqu'à la fin de son service au café. Elle a sorti son ordinateur portable et son manuel pour qu'elle puisse travailler sur sa mission pendant qu'elle attendait qu'il quitte le travail. Beaucoup d'élèves semblent venir ici pour travailler à l'école afin qu'elle puisse probablement faire la même chose, malgré combien plus fort cet endroit a été comparé à la bibliothèque. « Ce journal ne va pas s'écrire lui-même », pensait-elle solennellement. Elle a pris une autre gorgée de son chai latte qui s'était refroidie significativement. Ce n'était pas si mal quand il ne brûlait pas sa langue. Mais c'est encore trop cher. Probablement parce qu'elle ne voulait pas vraiment travailler sur le papier, elle a laissé son esprit et ses yeux errer un peu. Toby, Angel, Eddie, Skye, Daniel, et elle-même. Six membres de la même secte flippante. Ils étaient tous des jeunes adultes qui vont probablement à l'université alors peut-être que ce n'était pas si étrange mais quelle coïncidence. Elle se demande si l'un d'entre eux travaille sur une sorte d'accord de leur propre part pour cette mission. Angel aurait probablement besoin d'aide car elle est nouvelle et ses pouvoirs, comme Teryn, ne correspondent pas nécessairement au type de mission qui leur a été donnée. Ils semblaient profiter de la compagnie l'un de l'autre. Des amitiés créées par des circonstances inhabituelles. Intéressant... "Je sais que je n'aurais même pas pris la peine d'en connaître un si ce n'était pas pour Grimbold, pas que ça compte. Mais je me demande si les autres se seraient encore amicaux si nous n'étions pas rassemblés comme ça. » Elle s'est arrêtée là, en se rendant compte qu'elle devrait vraiment travailler sur le papier. Elle a branché son casque pour pouvoir écouter de la musique pendant qu'elle travaillait. Il a également aidé à bloquer le son du café animé. Elle a écrit le titre et son nom sur le journal. C'était un bon début et maintenant elle avait juste besoin de plus de mots.

Teryn Ikeda "I just can't deal with people right now... or ever."- -Teryn IkedaPersonal Information Name: Teryn Kanae Ikeda Nickname: Terry, TK, Scary Terry (Though she would glare at you for calling her this) Birth Date: February 20th, 19XX Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual but starting to feel a bit bi-curious. In The Mirror In Depth Appearance: Terry is fairly tall for a Japanese girl, standing at 5"7. She has long, sleek black hair and always gets it cut in the same blunt fashion. Don't even bother trying to ask her to change her hair because it will never happen. She has pale skin from lack of sun exposure and delicate facial features. Some might say she has a "resting bitch face", but at least she makes up for it with her nice, slim body. Her brown eyes are cold and always seem like they're looking straight through you. Clothing Style: Terry likes to wear long-sleeved dresses paired off with tights or lace leggings. She enjoys wearing lace a lot. She generally wears a lot of black but also likes other dark colors like dark red because they don't make her look like a ghost. She wears a lot of accessories such as scarves, hats, sunglasses, and more to add more to her look. When she feels lazy, she'll wear an oversized sweater and leggings. Her shoes of choice are heels because she likes feeling tall and believes they show off her legs more. Delving Deeper Likes: Cloudy days Art History Shiny objects Mint Tea Photography Dislikes: Sunlight Heavy foods Racist jokes about her ethnicity Loud noises Dogs Fears: Her Grandmother Dying The Ocean Habits: Rolling her eyes Chewing mint-flavored gum Putting on sunblock Personality: ♦ Observant ♦ Cynical ♦ Stubborn ♦ Standoffish Terry isn't the most optimistic person around. She doesn't have that much faith in others and more than often assumes the worse will occur. Regardless, she thinks highly of herself and her ability to be able to observe the world around her. However, once she believes she is correct about something, it is hard for anyone to convince her otherwise even if she was actually wrong. It is rather hard for her to make friends because of this, but she is not necessarily a bad person, just a hard person to get along with. It suits her fine though, she doesn't feel like she needs friends anyways. Background: Terry had a normal childhood. Her dad was a somewhat wealthy business man and her mother was a stay at home mom. She was never neglected or abused. Her grandmother was always harsh and scary, but besides that Terry lived a peaceful life. She was never good at making friends and was only average in her school work. Her parents always let her do what she wanted, which wasn't much. She simply wanted to be alone and have a nice camera to take photos with. Tallshade was a weird town. Perfect for an outcast like Terry. She was looking up universities her junior year of high school when she discovered Tallshade. She particularly liked the fact that it was dark and covered in shade half of the year. She managed to convince her parents to let her apply to the small university there and found out that she was accepted her senior year. At the university, she is currently studying as an art history major. One day after class, she went into the woods to take some photos. A strange, old man approached her. She tried to ignore him at first, but he began to talk to her. He offered to give her powers as long as she promised to do what he said. It felt like a scene from Harry Potter which wasn't a good thing because she hated the series, but decided to accept his offer. Actually now that she thought about it, she still didn't know why she accepted his offer. He was very convincing... Position in the group: Terry understands that they are all working together for some unknown cause so she simply sees them as a group of coworkers or a rag-tag team. She would be the quiet one who does what she is supposed to do, but would never go the extra lengths to befriend everyone. ☮Sloane: Terry admires Sloane's artistic abilities and finds her to be an agreeable person. Terry isn't sure whether or not they could be considered friends, but Terry respects Sloane and is more likely to listen to her than to others. ☯Eddie: Terry has noticed that Eddie is very much a pushover. He appears to be afraid of her so they don't talk much. She is somewhat amused by the fact that she intimidates him so much but doesn't know a lot about him besides the obvious. ☯Nina: Nina likes to be in the center of attention, Terry doesn't. Nina isn't the nicest person around but as long as she doesn't bother her, Terry is fine with it. ☯Robert: Terry is quick to put Robert down when he tries to get her and the others to join in on his schemes. She believes that he is childish and arrogant. Despite the fact that he should know very well that she doesn't like him, he still tries to talk to her from time to time and she can't figure out why. She is interested in his music and poetry, but would never vocally express that. ☯Tobias: Well, she won't deny that he is easy on the eyes. But that's about it. They don't bother to talk to each other at all. ⚡Cara: At first glance, Cara is like Terry's opposite. Though Terry is aware of her somewhat two-faced nature, she doesn't care. All she knows is that she won't be falling for her 'sweet smile'. Still, she tends to stay away from Cara. Something about her just rubs Terry the wrong way, well more than most people do. ☮ Nick: She has sort of a soft spot for Nick, probably because he is so youngand she never had siblings before. She's very subtle about it though. For instance, she isn't as harsh and not as likely to shoot him down. She also keeps an eye out for him and would be willing to show him her photos from time to time. ☯Skye: She's a very nice person. Not a person Terry would associate herself with, but still Skye is a good person. ☯Angel: Terry's aware that Angel doesn't like her, but doesn't let it bother too much. She won't argue needlessly with the girl, but she won't try to get her to like her either. ☯Daniel: Though they don't talk, he seems like a person that Terry could get along with. He seems to understand her better than most people and gets that she is just who she is. Extra: Terry is like bazillionth-generation Japanese American so she doesn't even know how to speak Japanese. She will begrudgingly admit that she had watch anime when she was younger but will deny that she watches them anymore. The secret to her classic hair style? She cuts it herself because she doesn't even trust a hair stylist with it. Dark powers: Animal Form: Raven Power: She can create light breezes that could result in things like bad hair days and important papers getting lost

Tobias Rieper Lieu: Café Interagir avec: Angel, Edward "Tu as le truc avec Déjà Vu, c'est ça? Ça me semble un peu facile. Déjà Vu votre cible quand ils descendent les escaliers ou quelque chose comme ça. Ils tomberont probablement à mi-chemin. Dans le pire des cas, ils se brisent la jambe. Et même alors, votre travail est fait. Moi, je dois être plus créatif. Pas comme mon pouvoir ne peut rien faire à quelqu'un d'autre." C'était vrai. Prévoir des événements horribles était un peu bon, mais l'enfer si elle gardait quelqu'un dans sa maison. Peut-être que s'il tirait une merde de destination finale ça pourrait marcher, mais ce serait trop complexe à faire par lui-même. Et quel serait le but d'utiliser son pouvoir de toute façon alors? Il aurait mis en place les "événements horribles" et le saurait peu importe. Il doutait que sa cible aurait peur d'un raton laveur non plus, donc ça l'a laissé dans un endroit difficile. Il semblait que Tobias devait faire quelque chose de violent. Il voulait éviter cette option, mais elle semblait être la seule à ce stade. Entrez chez l'homme, puis gardez l'homme avec force à l'intérieur de la maison. Mais il déciderait plus tard, de préférence après le petit déjeuner. Avant de pouvoir dire quoi que ce soit de plus à Angel, Edward les accueillit, évitant apparemment Teryn et Daniel. Étrange. En tout cas, Tobias aurait cru qu'Edward avait peu de mal à l'égard des deux autres. Teryn était tranquille, et Edward n'a pas rejeté les gâteaux apportés par Daniel. Puis encore une fois, il aurait pu lire trop dans l'évitement d'Edward. Peut-être qu'Edward était maladroit autour de ces deux-là. Tobias n'avait pas beaucoup parlé à Edward, mais d'après ce qu'il a vu, Edward était un de ces gens gentils, mais socialement gênants. Tobias a toujours voulu demander pourquoi il a suivi Robert comme un chien, mais il a pensé qu'Edward était facilement manipulé. Tobias l'avait vu tout le temps. Quelqu'un de charismatique ou intimidant est venu, et les gens étaient attirés à ce quelqu'un comme les papillons de nuit à une flamme. "Excuse-moi si j'ai l'air impoli, mais je préfère ne plus m'attarder sur ce sujet Edward. Pas grand-chose à dire, mais c'était bizarre."

Tobias Rieper “Home, sweet home. Something in the night felt like a door had been opened, an echo of the past, an old monster snapping its eyes open in the depths of my brain. Closing your eyes forces you to look at the darkness inside.” Personal Information NAME Tobias Rieper NICKNAMES Toby BIRTH DATE October 13th, 1990 AGE 25 GENDER Male SEXUALITY Heterosexual In The Mirror APPEARANCE Tobias's light blue eyes highlight his strongly german ancestry, if the pale white skin didn’t tip you off already. No makeup, nor any special hairdos, as one would expect from the average male, but has a beard/moustache. Tobias is exactly six feet tall, weighing around 170 pounds, fit as a fiddle, as his previous gang/prison lifestyle hasn’t allowed him to become weak. Tobias generally has a non expressive face, but he generally tries to smile for his own sake. CLOTHING Tobias doesn’t really wear anything too flashy in terms of his fashion, preferring to wear a simple jacket, jeans and some nikes. On occasion, he will wear a suit if he feels the situation requires it. And dress shoes too, because only a heathen would wear sneakers with a suit. Delving Deeper ♦Thoughtful ♦ Calm ♦ All Talk ♦ Remorseful PESONALITY While Tobias used to be aggressive in the past, now he attempts to be calm and less confrontational. While his anger still has a short fuse, Tobias manages to keep it in check, at least for now. Conflict is something he is not afraid of, but will avoid violence at all costs.Tobias would willingly allow another person to beat him, as he feels fighting back would drive him back to his previous life. As such, he tries to talk and bluff his way out of tricky situations. He can be withdrawn at times, as Tobias learned in therapy to mentally remove himself from the picture if his anger is getting out of control. LIKES Peace and quiet Snow Structure Cats/Dogs DISLIKES Tattoos Drugs Smug People Physical Fighting FEARS loss of self control Reversion to his precious lifestyle Addiction HABITS Plays with his rosary a bit when in deep thought. As stated before, has a habit of being withdrawn at random times. BACKGROUND Tobias was supposed to be the perfect model for the american dream. Four years of college, internship at a major accounting firm, steady and safe job. There was really nothing Tobias should have been complaining about, as he was practically set for life. But privately, he hated the life. Tobias felt little purpose in his studies, and later, his internship. While his family had paid for his college, and their connections earned him the internship, Tobias felt empty. His dissatisfaction led to his membership in a gang. The drugs helped, and beating up some poor sucker on the wrong side of town gave him a different high. Tobias was hooked. The drugs made him feel immortal, beating up other people gave him purpose and thrills. The gang made use of him as an enforcer, to collect debts, participate in gang fights, you name it. Ironically, Tobias was arrested for drug use/possession rather than being caught for beating people to near death. He was given three years in jail, losing his job, house, and his car. At first, Tobias blamed everything but himself for this sentence. The system, society, his circumstances. He constantly picked fights with other inmates to get a “high” again. After a year in prison, he “sobered” up and came to a different conclusion. His downfall was his own fault. There was nothing else to blame. There was something twisted, dark in his head if he had to do drugs or fight to feel satisfied. The system worked exactly as it should have, society was right this time, and he could offer no realistic excuses to his behavior. Tobias started to turn his life around as best he could in prison. Tobias no longer fought, he spent time in drug therapy sessions, and even became a Catholic, attending mass at the prison ministry. But as soon as he his sentence ended and he was let out, the empty feeling came back. Tobias tried to ignore the feeling, moving to a small town and acquiring a minimum wage job. He no longer cared much about the faith, ignoring it completely. But a man approached him, and offered him another purpose in life. Grimbold, he called himself. Supposedly Tobias had a higher calling, and as long as he would be willing to follow. Tobias accepted, but there was something in the back of the head telling him this might not be any different from his previous gang lifestyle.. RELATIONSHIPS Tobias probably comes off as the skeptic. The thinker of the group. He may take charge if no one else is willing. ☯Eddie☯ Weird guy, but nothing to hate him over. Tobias wonders why he’s in such a group however. ☯Teryn/Terry☯ Weird girl, but not as weird as Eddie. Not much to say about her as she rarely says much at all. ⚔Sloane⚔ Troublesome. While he may not backtalk to her, there are certainly times Tobias feels he might lose his temper with her and attempt to beat the living shit out of her. For this reason, Tobias acts cold to her in an attempt to get her to ignore him. ☯Robert☯ Too naive. Kind of reminds him of when he was younger, except with less angst, so he holds little ill will towards Robert. ☮Cara☮A bit on the short side, but she seems nice enough. ☯Nick☯Toby feels like he should say something about his illicit activities, but he feels he'd be a hypocrite considering he was no better at that age. ⚡Nina⚡Reminds him of Sloane. EXTRA None Dark Powers ANIMAL FORM A simple raccoon. POWER Can predict bad events, but has no idea of the severity/context, just that something bad will happen.

M. Robert Taylor, Président de la Commission des droits de l'homme et Président de la Commission des droits de l'homme, Président de la Commission des droits de l'homme et Président de la Commission des droits de l'homme, Président de la Commission des droits de l'homme. Lieu; Bibliothèque Interagir avec; texter Eddie De:Robb Vers:Edgard "Yo Eddie, tu sais ce que j'ai besoin d'homme, une caffeïne serait géniale. Heureusement que tu te diriges par là. J'ai un plan." Eh bien, le plan n'était pas encore tout à fait terminé. Mais ça prenait forme. Il a dû faire du travail de temps en temps, pour que Martha ne se méfie pas. Il y avait des tâches à accomplir, comme la commande de nouveaux livres. C'était ennuyeux, mais parmi les corvées les plus sortantes, puisque ce n'était pas quelque chose de quotidien. Alors que la moitié sur facebook, la moitié de la vérification des livres qui devaient être commandés et taper leurs codes de livres, l'œil de Robert était tombé sur un dépliant sur le comptoir. Figurativement. C'était un programme mensuel de choses à faire à Tallshade. Pour les étudiants ou pour les personnes comme lui qui devraient étudier, mais au moins correspondaient à la catégorie d'âge. Vendredi prochain, un groupe jouerait au Castle Street Café. Il pourrait être intéressé à y aller. Et bien sûr qu'il demanderait à Eddie. Et puis ça l'a frappé... Ils partiraient. Ils demandaient à sortir, les filles qu'ils étaient censés garder le samedi. Ou peut-être qu'ils partiraient déjà. Ils avaient juste besoin de s'assurer qu'ils se saoulaient vraiment. Et rentre à la maison avec eux. Il n'avait pas besoin de coucher avec Rachel. Il avait juste besoin d'être là samedi. Comme c'était dur de la garder là-dedans, quand elle avait vraiment la gueule de bois, et qu'il serait là pour s'assurer qu'elle ne partirait pas. C'était la première fois qu'il essayait de coucher avec une fille, pas pour quelque chose de romantique. Eh bien, pas qu'il était totalement contre cette idée. Ce n'était pas l'objectif principal. La pensée de cette nouvelle aventure l'excita. Eddie allait sûrement se joindre à son plan. À côté du fait que c'était ce qu'il faisait la plupart du temps, c'était l'occasion parfaite pour cette petite poussée dont il avait besoin avec sa fille. Ils n'avaient plus qu'à faire venir les filles. Mais à quel point cela pourrait-il être difficile? Il avait déjà le numéro de Rachel. Ça allait être génial. Tournant le dos vers Martha un moment, il prit sa fiole de sa ceinture.

Name: Robert Montgomery Taylor Nickname: Fantastic Mister Fox, Rob, Foxy Birth Date: january 4th, 1993 Age: 23 Gender: male Sexuality: heterosexual In The Mirror In Depth Appearance: yellow-green eyes pierce from under his stubborn black hair. Though physically relaxed, the eyes give away that his mind is alert. Robert is slender and slightly taller than most. Because he is too lazy to shave daily, his chin is covered in stubble most of the time. He strides with a combination of authority and enibration. Sometimes one more than the other. It varies. Clothing Style: Robert's colors are mostly black combined with bordeaux red or dark green. He wears plain shirts, hoodies, jeans and boots. Outside he wears his black jacket. Delving Deeper Likes: power writing poetry with quill and ink adventure chocolate chip cookies playing the guitar berries red wine rum Dislikes: poets people who are not up for his ideas people who disrespect him chocolate and fruit combination human stupidity Fears: Being a failure Letting people down Drowning That humanity will destroy itself Habits: running his hand through his hair whistling playing with a coin. Personality: ♦ proud ♦ playful ♦ caring ♦ brooding Robert does what he wants, whenever he wants. Though life often doesn't agree with him. So he comes up with an extravagant plan to make it better, or to fix things. And sometimes it works. And often he gets in trouble even deeper. But he learned how to talk himself in and out of these situations. He doesn't like to be responsible for people, because they will only slow him down. But he feels responsible nevertheless. And often he can use a hand. His 'plans' are often not as much actual plans, as just a means to persuade people in aiding him. Background: Growing up, Robert had a rather normal childhood. In highschool he was one of the more alternative teenagers ofcourse. His most important problem at the time, was how society wanted him to be it's bitch by making him going to school and then study and work. That couldn't be what was meant for him. But other than that, not much weird stuff going on. Philosophy turned out a lot more boring and less enlightening than Robert had hoped. But he didn't want to return home emtpy handed. So he got a job at the library and bided his time in this town. It was even more boring than studying, but at least he could pay the rent and didn't have to put up with pretentious students and professors. But still, far from any great destiny. Despite his cynical attitude about religion in general, and after a night of heavy drinking, he went to church to pray for something good to happen. But as he was about to declare himself officialy crazy and close his eyes to start praying, a man next to him spoke to him. For some reason he quickly figured out Robert's situation and proposed to help him, if Robert did him a small favor. He needed to steal the small crucifix hanging on the wall of the church. Regardless of how the man was going to help him, that sounded like an exciting idea to him. So when the priest wasn't looking, he sneaked out the little artefact. After that, Grimbold asked him over for dinner. And they talked a lot. About life and society. Then Grimbold offered him a chance at a whole new life. Next to his current one. Relationships: Robert views everybody in the group as family. Though family doesn't necessarily means without friction. ♫Eddie ♫ and Robert are buddies. Robert is persuasive and Eddie tends to give in quickly, so Robert drags him along on his plans, more or less willingly. ⚡ Sloane ⚡ and Robert both are strong-willed individuals. This leads to clashes from time to time. Though he has respect for her independence. ♥ Terry ♥ has something very intruiging to Robert. She seems untouchable by his current social vocabulary. It's frustrating. Especially since he finds her rather attractive. ☯ Tobias ☯ is someone that Robert is slightly more careful with. He comes of as distant but dense, so he's just a little less comfortable around him than with the others. ☯ Cara ☯ is oke, but her controlling side is rather annoying. ☮ Nick ☮ is a great younger brother to have. Robert feels sort of a protector role for him. He will teach him the important things in life. Like rum appreciation. ☮ Nina ☮ is on Robert's level. Someone that he can talk with and have fun with. She's like a sister. But she's also hot. which is confusing. ☮Angel☮ Though she is relatively new, Robert gets a good vibe from her. Sharp and fun to hang with. ☮Skylar☮ Warm hearts are good company. Sky is comforting, which Rob needs sometimes. But she's also innocent enough for him to feel a protector role over her. ☯Daniel☯ He seems like a good kid, but Robert has a hard time really connecting with him. Extra: He wears a small flask filled with rum on his belt. Dark powers: Animal Form: Fox power: Loss of focus: For just a second, your thoughts were drifting somewhere else. You weren't paying attention you didn't watch where you were going. And now you walked into that lamppost, or cut yourself with the scissors. You stumbled, you hit your thumb with the hammer. Just your luck.

Cara Osborne Emplacement; Boucliers d'encre Interagir avec; Sloane Cara sourit à l'animal de compagnie de Sloane, se penchant pour brosser un doigt sur la tête du félin comme salut avant de se lever une fois de plus. "Tea s'il te plaît. C'est le seul chemin vers mon cœur." Cara a répondu. Alors que Sloane marchait vers la table remplie de goodies, Cara se penchait contre le comptoir, ses bras croisaient contre sa poitrine. "Vous savez l'affectation Gandalf - je veux dire Grimbold - nous a demandé de faire?" Elle a commencé. Il valait mieux demander directement à Sloane. Cara était prête à donner un coup de main à Sloane, à moins qu'elle n'ait déjà eu une idée et qu'elle ne veuille faire appel à cette faveur une autre fois. "Ma cible est peut-être paranoïaque. Tout en chuchotant pourrait faire le travail, j'ai besoin de votre aide pour m'assurer qu'elle reste à l'intérieur." Cara n'avait aucune idée de ce que Gandalf avait en réserve pour eux tous, et bien qu'elle n'ait jamais remis en question ses motifs, il était étrange que ces gens particuliers aient été choisis pour être tourmentés par la famille des bêtes jusqu'à ce qu'ils refusent de sortir pour une journée particulière. Si Cara était certaine que Gandalf ne l'utiliserait pas comme un pincushion, comme il l'a fait avec le cygne, elle l'aurait demandé. Mais Cara préférait ne pas être un pincushion, donc c'était sorti. "Je suis prêt à vous offrir mes services, si vous avez besoin d'aide avec votre cible -- attendez, savez-vous même qui est le vôtre?" Elle a demandé, en balançant le stylo sur le comptoir et en tournant avec le couvercle, en gardant ses mains occupées.

Name: Catherine Amaya Osborne Nickname: Cara Birth Date: November 7th Age: Twenty-two Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual In The Mirror In Depth Appearance: Barely reaching 5'1" and weighing only 50kg (110lbs), Cara gives the impression of being cute and harmless. While she likes to be known as cute, harmless is something she's certainly not. The petite girl has an hourglass figure, hips wide but waist slender, usually maintained by her rapid metabolism and strict diet (other than chocolate, Cara can never resist anything chocolatey). Cara has a dimple on her left cheek, an indication of her smiley nature. She also has a naturally tanned complexion, complementing her brown hair and eyes. Speaking of eyes, Cara has wide doe eyed brown orbs, giving her an innocent look which is framed with thick, dark eyebrows. She also has shoulder-length brown hair, thick and kept straight with overgrown fringes that frame her somewhat chubby cheeks perfectly. Clothing Style: Cara loves to dress up, no matter the occasion. She loves to wear various skirts and dresses, as long as it's chic and cute (to match her bubbly-looking appearance). She also likes experimenting with her clothes, so one day she may go for a bold design, or the other she'd wear something simple. Make-up wise, Cara loves to define her eyes, either with some eyeliner or with dark eyeshadow. Lip colours vary depending on her mood or the situation, usually switching from naturals, pinks and bold reds. Deeper Likes: Tea Terrible romance drama films Cycling Reading Chocolate Dislikes: Doing nothing Coffee People who call her a control freak Anything cold Debby-downers Fears: Losing control of her life Suffocating Letting people too close Habits: Tapping her fingers against surfaces Playing with her hair Pouting her lips while in thought Personality: ♦ Kind ♦ Control Freak ♦ Blunt ♦ Stubborn ♦ Manipulative ♦ At first glance, people assume that Cara is docile and harmless, the cutesy one, if you will. However, Cara is anything but docile. She has been known to argue and stand by her points (and values) no matter what, her stubborn streak comparable to that of a boulder. Her stubbornness paired with her controlling personality can make her quite the unpleasant person to hang around with, most of the time. However, Cara refuses to acknowledge herself as a control-freak, that's one thing that would piss her off. Cara is very confident, in herself and her abilities. She is also always found with a smile (whether its fake or genuine, people usually can't tell). Don't get fooled by her sweet smile, however, as Cara can potentially use her 'sweet, innocent appearance' to dupe people. Cara also likes to consider herself honest, but most of her 'honesty' is just the blunt truth. She never sugar-coats her words (unless she's fooling someone), her words usually unfiltered. Overall, Cara can be nice when she needs to be, but piss her off and she can be a vindictive little bitch. Background: Born in the English countryside, in a small town where everyone knew everything, Catherine had a normal childhood. Or, as normal as one could get having seven older siblings. It wasn't like she was neglected or abused in the household, but Catherine knew that she wasn't the most wanted child. Having to compete with seven other children for any attention, Catherine developed into a loud, stubborn child that was hard to reason with unless she was bribed with chocolates. Catherine was encouraged to pick up many hobbies, including dancing and painting alongside furthering her education. Most of her siblings were average students, Catherine included. However, the girl had found her calling in life: to be a surgeon, where she had the contol and power to save lives. The medicine path motivated the girl throughout her childhood and teenage years, making her a hard-working student and achieving good grades even though she wasn't a genius. This remained until Cara finished her secondary education, achieving high grades - especially in science and maths. The girl, during her hunt for a university, stumbled on a town named Tallshade hidden within the forest. Liking the prospect of moving away from the stuffy town, Cara applied immediately for a medical course, before packing up and moving out as soon as she hit eighteen. Cara performed well during the first few years of her medical degree, studying hard and maintaining her work ethic like back at home. Cara met The Mentor during one of her panic-study sessions at the local library. Funnily enough, the girl actually screamed out 'I wish I could get them to listen to me!' before she noticed The Mentor beside her. Offering her powers in exchange doing whatever he wanted, the girl accepted immediately. That was a year ago, and now, Cara loves her life. Position in the group: Cara's desire for control means that she strives to be a leader, even if she's not the best person to lead a team. She likes to consider everybody in the group as friends, or at least some of them, but it doesn't mean that they're exempt to her blunt and bold personality. ☯ Neutral || ☮ Friends || ♫ Best Friends || ♥ Love Interest || 💕 Boyfriend/Girlfriend || ⚡ Rivals || ⚔ Nemesis ☮ Eddie ☮ Sweet guy, but he just needs to stand up for himself. Cara likes Eddie enough to try and tame her bold personality so she doesn't scare him off (even if it's not much difference). Cara doesn't like Nina's tendancy to bully Eddie, which often results in her advising him on ways to defend himself - her advice usually coming out as forceful. ☯ Terry ☯ Cara appreciates her observant nature, knowing that her fake smiles don't work on the quiet girl. Cara tends to just stay away from Terry, more because she doesn't know how to approach her without losing her cool. ☮ Sloane ☮ Bold and proud, Cara definitely likes Sloane, acting friendly enough to her. If she were attracted to women, she would've been attracted to Sloane. ☯ Robert ☯ Robert's playful nature reminds her of an excitable puppy. Cara doesn't mind going along with many of his schemes, as long as she doesn't consider it stupid. Again, like with many of the others, Cara remains friendly with Robert, as long as he doesn't make her feel like she doesn't have control during his schemes. ☮ Toby ☮ He's quite the looker, but withdrawn. She doesn't know much about Toby, and while she's curious, she doesn't bother to ask. There is a possibility that Cara could be attracted to Toby, but its more of a physical thing, rather than an emotional one. ☮ Nick ☮ Like the little brother of the group, Cara can understand what its like to be the youngest sibling, but she doesn't baby Nick either, no matter how adorable he looks in his ferret form. ⚡ Nina ⚡ Nina and Cara have a hot and cold friendship: one day they could get along well enough to watch movies and hang out with each other, the next they could easily grate on each other's nerves. ☮ Angel ☮ Angel is one girl that Cara knows she can have a argument debate with, no matter how heated it may get due to their stubborn nature. Both also from England, Cara likes to think that the two are friends. She doesn't mind showing Angel around Tallshade, since Cara understands what its like to be new in a different environment. Extra: Cara speaks with a hint of a British accent, one of the only hints to her British background. She's trying to give up smoking, after having a little health scare a while ago. powers: Animal Form: Power: Cara has the ability to make people hear whispers. It's not her speaking, but just simple idle chatter as if someone is right behind them, even if no one is there. Serves as a great distraction tool during exam season, though.

Edward Hansen Lieu: Café Castle Street Interagir avec: Tobias, Ange, Ciel La cloche au-dessus de la porte jinglait, et Eddie regardait pour voir Sky entrer dans le café. Il lui sourit et lui fit signe, puis se retourna vers Tobias et Angel. "Oui, c'est assez fou, c'est exact" a-t-il répondu à Tobias. On dirait qu'il ne veut pas parler. Laisse-le tranquille. Eddie a réfléchi, et s'est tourné vers Angel. "Eh bien, la nuit dernière était un peu lourde par rapport à d'autres réunions" a-t-il dit, la moitié pour la rassurer et la moitié pour lui-même. "De toute façon, je ne prendrai plus le temps de vos gars. Bienvenue dans la famille." il a dit, avant de tourner et commander les cafés habituels pour lui-même et Robert. Ça me rappelle que je me demande quel genre de plan Robert va préparer cette fois-ci? L'esprit d'Eddie erra alors qu'il attendait son café. Penchant à l'extrémité du comptoir, il a sorti son téléphone et lu le texte de Robert. Aux : Rob De : Eddie Soyez là bientôt, j'ai hâte d'entendre votre plan! Aussi, un peu bizarre, il y a beaucoup de gens de notre "famille" à la C.S.C. aujourd'hui. Beaucoup de gens n'ont pas bien dormi hier soir. Au moment où il a frappé envoyer, son nom a été appelé. Eddie a pris les cafés et s'est dirigé vers la porte, souriant à Sky alors qu'il passait. La petite cloche signala son départ, et Eddie marcha vers la bibliothèque.

Name: Edward Anthony Hansen Nickname: Eddie. Don't call me Ed. Birth Date: January 31st, 1993 Age: 23 Gender: Male Sexuality: Straight In The Mirror In Depth Appearance: Standing at 5' 7" and weighing 200 lbs, Eddie is a bit lumpy, but stays in shape with running. He has light brown hair and a meticulously kept goatee. His eyes are a light green, hiding behind thick black rimmed glasses. Caucasion, with vague traces of ethnicity. A pretty standard American mutt. Clothing Style: Likes solid color shirts with a pocket on the chest, loosely tucked into dark blue jeans. Dirty sneakers at the brink of falling apart. He doesn't usually buy new shoes unless his old pair are unuseable. Delving Deeper Likes: Tinkering Reading (Mostly fiction) Girls with red hair Cracking jokes, being sarcastic Dislikes: Bodily fluids Violence/Tense situations Cats Repetition Fears: Claustrophobic Fire Spiders Habits: Fidgets with his tools (Usually carries around a phillips screwdriver in his pocket, and twists it around when nervous) Loves junk food Prone to laughing in uncomfortable situations Personality: ♦ Honest ♦ Creative ♦ Inquisitive ♦ Timid Eddie is soft-hearted and good natured. Tends to stray away from conflicts and tense situations, and quick to give in to another's will. Enjoys taking things apart, seeing how they work, and attempting to put them back together. Pretty much at home with wherever his toolbox lands. Likes to spend time with friends, but tries to steer any conversation away from debate, especially if he thinks it might get heated. Will usually side with whoever has the greatest show of force, despite his actual feelings. Isn't afraid to do what needs to be done, to an extent. Background: Eddie comes from a broken house, on the outskirts of the nearest city. His mother was abusive, she would bully him into doing what she wanted and threatened to burn the house down when he wouldn't. His father was a gentle understanding man, and did his best to do damage control for his wife. As a result, Eddie decided he would follow his father's lead, which was to try to defuse any possible situation. Growing up, he discovered a fascination with machines, and was eager to practice. Unfortunately, his practice involved taking apart household appliances, sure he could put them back together. But, being inexperienced, kept losing pieces and forgetting the steps to repair them. Then his mother made good on her promise. She set the house on fire, with Eddie and his father inside. Eddie doesn't really remember what happened, but his father didn't make it. His mother was found criminally insane. Years later, Eddie moved to Tallshade. Eddie decided he wanted to go to the university, where he could hone his craft, and get away from bad memories. There he met Grimbold, late one night while out walking. Eddie was immediately enamored. Something about his voice was so warm and comforting... fatherly. He promised Eddie gifts in exchange for Eddie's loyalty and service, to which Eddie eagerly agreed. All he had to do was loosen the screws on a bike so it makes a squeaky sound. Mostly harmless, right? Position in the group: As far as position goes, Eddie would be considered support. He wouldn't dare take a leadership role, any opposition would easily succeed. No, Eddie would much rather be in the back, quietly performing whatever task was required of him. As far as relationships go: Sloane:☯ Eddie doesn't mind Sloane. She pushes him around a little, but no different than most of the people he grew up with. He admires her ability to stand out and be proud. Also, he is attracted to her. Not her looks, necessarily, but the way she carries herself. Though he would never have the courage to say that out loud. Sloane might hit him. Terry:☯ Terry is different from almost anyone Eddie's met from home. She doesn't really yell at or hit him, but he is still terrified of her. The way she looks right through him. She knows he's a coward, Eddie is sure of it. When they first made eye contact, it was like he was watching her read his life story, pulled from his eyes. And she didn't seem impressed. Or sympathetic. Or, anything at all, really. Robert:♫ Eddie and Robert became friends soon after he moved to Tallshade. Robert could easily see the advantages of having a guy who has access to tools, and is easy to persuade, as a friend. Eddie is more willing to take Robert's side, easily taken in by his "plans". Tobias:☯ Seems dangerous, but mostly leaves Eddie alone, which is fine by him. Cara:☮ She's nice to Eddie, if not a little controlling. Sometimes she will give Eddie (strongly worded) advice on various aspects of his life. Eddie will usually go along with it, mostly because he's seen how she reacts to others taking control away. Nick:☮ Eddie likes Nick's impulsiveness, and wants to look out for him, even though he doesn't seem like he needs it. Nina:⚔ Eddie tries to avoid Nina whenever possible, just the same as Nina makes snide comments whenever possible. Extra: Eddie usually carries a few loose screws, nuts, and bolts in his shirt pocket. Never know when you'll need them, right? Also carries a phillips screwdriver in his right pocket. Can usually be seen carrying his toolbox, with an assortment of wrenches, drivers, a hammer, etc. Not a full set, being one that was scavenged over the years, so the tools are also usually in poor condition. Other than that, pretty standard young adult gear. Wallet, phone, etc. Dark powers: Animal Form: German Shepherd Power: Can give metal things static charge. Not enough to power anything, but enough to give people a zap when touched. Eddie can affect any metal object he can see in detail, so if he loses his glasses he can only affect objects he can touch.

Skylar Montgomery Lieu: Café Castle Street Interagir avec : Eddie, Toby et Angel Sky sourit et agita Eddie alors qu'elle montait au comptoir. "Un café avec de la crème et du sucre." Elle a dit à l'employé de l'autre côté du comptoir avant de quitter le chemin de toute autre personne voulant quelque chose. Que pouvait-elle dire sur le sucre et la crème, c'était une fille aux goûts sucrés. Dès qu'elle était là, elle s'est rendu compte à quel point elle avait faim. C'était probablement mieux de rentrer à la maison et de manger ou de trouver ailleurs. Ce café a été privilégié et malchanceux pour elle ce mois-ci elle a dû donner la moitié de son salaire à l'épargne pour épargner pour les prêts étudiants qu'elle obtiendrait une fois qu'elle est entrée à l'université. Comme il n'y avait aucun moyen en enfer, elle allait parler à sa "famille". Elle fit signe à Eddie alors qu'il sortait de la boutique et se pencha contre le côté opposé en pensant à son mystérieux John Doe. Elle se demandait si quelqu'un savait pour lui. Elle vivait dans cette ville depuis trois ans et elle n'avait jamais entendu son nom. Ils étaient un grand groupe, mais, vous ne savez jamais, quelqu'un pouvait savoir quelque chose. Peut-être qu'elle pourrait interrompre Angel et Toby une seconde pour l'interroger car Terry avait l'air de ne pas vouloir être dérangée. Obtenir le gars de rester à l'intérieur serait la partie facile, c'était le trouver qui se révélait difficile. L'amener à rester ici ne l'obligerait qu'à le faire mourir de peur. Il lisait simplement les coins sombres de son esprit et causait un peu de paranoïa. J'ai juste gâché le gars mentalement pour une journée. La peur mentale pendant une journée n'était pas quelque chose qu'elle avait trop envie de faire, mais le gars pouvait s'en occuper pendant une journée. "John Doe, comment tu m'aggraves ainsi," Une fois son nom appelé, elle a pris son café et a remercié la personne derrière le comptoir avant de passer aux deux. "Hé les gars, Sky a commencé à attirer leur attention. "Je me demandais si l'un de vous savait quelque chose à propos d'un Henry Johnson?

Name: Skylar Jane Montgomery Nickname: Sky or Fawn Birth Date: February 28 Age: 21 Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual In The Mirror In Depth Appearance: Unlike the slim figures of all the other women in the Montgomery family Sky got more of a curvy figure. Along with being 5"2 and having unusual grey eyes it was safe to say she stuck out a bit compared to her four sisters. Freckles dot her face and body being something she loathed as a child and something she`s come to find as apart of who she is as an adult. The sun is usually an enemy because of her pale skin color. Her hair is naturally red and is curly and thick. She`s learned after cutting it short once that it`s best to leave it long, it`s a untamable beast. The redness in her hair varies by season, in summer months it turns copper due to the sun, in winter it turns a crimson red color(her preferred color of her hair). When it comes to make up she would rather skip it for a more natural look, though she does like lipstick. Even though she hides it, because mostly everyone in the group finds her to be the innocent one, she has a tattoo of a broken heart on the right side of her ribcage. The reason behind this tattoo no living soul knows, no one even knows she has it. Clothing Style: Sky`s clothing choices vary by how she feels. On a Friday she might be feeling a edgy black dress with three inch wedges while on a Monday she`d be wearing a white sundress with a light pink sweater. There are also the days where she dresses up like what she calls "witchy" or "hippy" styles. You can be assured whatever she`d wearing always has a necklace though and if she`s not feeling well sweat pants usually follow. Delving Deeper Likes: Music Coffee Strawberry pastries Literature Cats Art Dislikes: Rap Dishonesty Cherry anything Body shaming Public Speaking Drugs Fears: Abandonment Hurting other people Alienation Always being seen as the little sister Habits: When she`s nervous she`ll often start spinning her necklace or a piece of jewelry she`s wearing at the time. As she gets excited she goes from speaking normally to loudly. Whenever she`s uncomfortable she puts her hair into a ponytail. Often stays up way too late at night. Personality: ♦ Clumsy ♦ Wise ♦ Warm-Hearted ♦ Understanding Even as a child most people said she was far beyond her years and as she reached her teen years people started to say she was the wise old woman in a teenager`s body. She tries to understand someone before she says anything against them. This leads to her being very trusting and understanding towards others. The advice she gives to problems is usually a lot more than someone her age should be able to give. It`s also one of her biggest downfalls as others can betray her quite easily. In all she`s rather clumsy and lightheaded, someone could tell her something and she`d forget it in two seconds. This has always been something she`s hated because while she`s very smart no one can see that with how forgetful and sporadic her nature is. In sad situations she feels rather uncomfortable, because while she tries her best to comfort someone she always feels like she`s doing everything wrong. Even though she looks down on herself a lot she does have confidence in her decisions and she believes that believing in yourself is the best thing you can do. She does feel like the owl represents her a lot. Like the owl she prefers being up all night than being awake during the day. It`s also seen as a wise creature and has aspects that she wants for herself, to be more precise and strong are two of them. Background: In her family there`s five daughters, Sky being the youngest. Meaning her childhood was full of hand-me-downs and often being misplaced. Her oldest sister Delilah is seven years older than her. The second and third daughters, Mary and May, are twins and are six years from Sky. Jamie who`s the closest to Sky at only two years apart. When Sky was born her parents had been hoping to finally have a boy. She`s always felt like her father didn`t approve of her because of this. The Montgomery family is known for being a very rich and successful family in a town a few towns away from Tallshade. As she grew up she had trouble trying to convince people she wasn`t a snob like they tried to make her believe. Many people bullied her for her intelligence and the difference of her looks compared to her sisters. Even her sisters would laugh and joke about how she was adopted. It really did make her feel like she had no one, her parents were always working, and it was very easy to just isolate herself in their huge house. Due to all of this she fell into depression and at some points self harmed. In high school she got involved in a lot of bad groups. She often snuck out to get high or drunk with people she thought were her friends. It wasn`t until she was almost 18 that things went completely downhill. At a party she overdosed unintentionally. If the cops hadn`t broken up the party a few minutes later she would have died. In the hospital her family didn`t have anything nice to say to her and only yelled at her for being so irresponsible. They sent her off to a clinic for 6 months and she was released when she turned 18. Instead of going back to her family she broke off all ties to them. She got a job and lived in a small apartment till she finished high school and got a broken heart tattooed on the right side of her ribs. She saved up money and moved to Tallshade to go to college as soon as she had enough money. It was a step by step process. The day she got to Tallshade she went to the Castle Street Café and ordered a cup of coffee and some breakfast. The things she owned were in a small suitcase next to her in the booth. As she sat there silently reading her book an older man came and sat across from her in the booth and ordered a drink from the waitress before looking at her. Sky asked him who he was and they eventually got into a conversation about her life somehow. She found out his name was Grimbold and he asked her if she wanted a way to completely change her life and be in an actual family for once, as long as she did what he said. It took awhile but she agreed and he told her to walk out of the shop and not pay for her coffee or breakfast. It was history after that and she`s been with the group for three years now. She finally has a place where she can be herself. Relationships: Sky thinks of the entire group as her family. As such she has compassion and understanding for all of them. Most she considers as friends and even if she doesn`t feel too confident in a member of their family she still treats them with respect and gives them the benefit of the doubt. ☮ Eddie ☮ - Eddie is a good guy, she finds it interesting to watch him tinker, and talking about fiction books is always fun. Sky always tries to convince him to like cats more. He`s the person she goes too to talk about the books she`s reading at the time. ☯ Terry ☯ - In Sky`s eyes Terry is alright, her observant nature makes her an okay person to talk too, although her crude nature sometimes makes her a bit uncomfortable. ☮ Sloane ☮ - When they first met she knew the woman didn`t think too highly of her, some friendships start out a bit rocky though. In present day she finds Sloane to be a very good friend of hers, even if they don`t agree on rap music. ☮ Rob(Foxy) ☮ - Foxy as she likes to call him. She likes to think of him like the older brother she never had as his middle name happens to be her last name. Like her she also values how he thinks of them like a family. ♥ Toby ♥ - Ever since she met him Sky`s always had a crush on Toby. At first she thought it was just his looks and tried to talk herself out of it. As she got to know him more she found to really like his calm nature and that he himself also had some bad experiences with drugs and such, in which she could relate. ⚡ Cara ⚡ - Cara makes Sky feel rather uneasy. While she seems very nice Sky can feel the other side of her personality and has seen it a few times. This rather scares her. On the outside Sky is usually very nice to her however. ☮ Nick ☮ - Much like most of the group she sees Nick as a younger brother. She likes that if either of them aren`t feeling talkative the other person can rant as long as they want. It can also just be a conversation or sitting in silence. ☯ Nina ☯ - At first Nina seemed like the type of person Sky would never be on great terms with. She was the queen bee in high school while Sky had been the rebellious/druggy girl. As time went on she`s started to become perfectly fine with her. Even if she`s hot tempered and can be rather hard to work with Nina does protect those she cares for and Sky admires that. ☮ Angel ☮ - Angel`s compassion is what Sky appreciates the most about her. Even though she went through some hard stuff in life she still jokes and laughs. In Sky`s eyes she`s the person to go to if you`re having a bad day. ☯ Danny ☯ - Sky can't say she knows Danny too much. He was here before she was. Danny keeps to himself but he's not a bad person at all. She does trust him even if they don't know a ton about eachother. Extra: Dark powers: Animal Form: pic of animal form goes here power: She can hear the darker parts of someone's mind. Regrets, pain, dark secrets, are just a few. When she uses this power it causes paranoia in the victim. Even though she is kindhearted and understanding the old dark side of her understands a lot of the thoughts she receives.

Roseanne Parker Lieu; Mairie Interagir avec;Julie Tallshade devait être le prochain tremplin de sa carrière. Un autre sport sur l'échelle qu'elle avait gravi toute sa vie. Cette ville était ennuyeuse et elle n'avait pas grand-chose à voir, mais elle avait tant de potentiel! Loin de tout, tant d'espace à cultiver, de rétributions naturelles à exploiter. Possibilités pour le tourisme et les entreprises de commencer ici. L'ancien maire était un homme du peuple. Vers la terre et tous les autres traits qui ne mèneraient jamais à la grandeur. D'un autre côté, elle était une femme d'affaires. Elle avait une vision, cette ville allait prospérer sous sa domination. Tant de profits l'attendaient. "Julie, j'ai besoin de plus de café ici, couper la côte!" Elle l'a dit à son assistant, qui s'est précipité dans la cuisine. Les plans du week-end étaient prêts, et tout était arrangé. Les gens auraient l'occasion de connaître leur nouveau maire. Eh bien, les gens d'importance au moins. Commonfolk n'était pas quelque chose qu'elle voudrait s'embêter. Bien qu'il fût difficile de discerner les personnages les plus influents des petits villageois de cette ville. Dans le monde réel, leurs réalisations ne signifieraient pas grand-chose. Pour l'instant. Parce qu'elle allait changer tout ça. Tout. Cette ville allait naître une nouvelle fois. Et elle avait besoin d'aide pour ça. Elle devait savoir sur qui elle pouvait compter. Par conséquent, ce week-end allait être très important. Les invitations ont été envoyées, et elle n'a pas pu attendre pour choisir ses subordonnés. L'université était l'une des rares choses à mentionner, que cette ville avait fait naître. Les membres du conseil avaient tous accepté son invitation. Elle a estimé ses chances très élevées, d'étendre son influence dans cette direction. À côté de cela, certaines personnes qui possédaient une entreprise qui pourrait être utile d'une manière ou d'une autre ont été invitées. Ça allait être une nuit bondée. Et puis il y avait le prêtre. Roseanne était athée, mais il n'y avait pas beaucoup de gens ici. Le pouvoir de la religion de contrôler le peuple ne doit pas être sous-estimé. Peut-être qu'il pourrait être un allié intéressant.

Name: Robert Montgomery Taylor Nickname: Fantastic Mister Fox, Rob, Foxy Birth Date: january 4th, 1993 Age: 23 Gender: male Sexuality: heterosexual In The Mirror In Depth Appearance: yellow-green eyes pierce from under his stubborn black hair. Though physically relaxed, the eyes give away that his mind is alert. Robert is slender and slightly taller than most. Because he is too lazy to shave daily, his chin is covered in stubble most of the time. He strides with a combination of authority and enibration. Sometimes one more than the other. It varies. Clothing Style: Robert's colors are mostly black combined with bordeaux red or dark green. He wears plain shirts, hoodies, jeans and boots. Outside he wears his black jacket. Delving Deeper Likes: power writing poetry with quill and ink adventure chocolate chip cookies playing the guitar berries red wine rum Dislikes: poets people who are not up for his ideas people who disrespect him chocolate and fruit combination human stupidity Fears: Being a failure Letting people down Drowning That humanity will destroy itself Habits: running his hand through his hair whistling playing with a coin. Personality: ♦ proud ♦ playful ♦ caring ♦ brooding Robert does what he wants, whenever he wants. Though life often doesn't agree with him. So he comes up with an extravagant plan to make it better, or to fix things. And sometimes it works. And often he gets in trouble even deeper. But he learned how to talk himself in and out of these situations. He doesn't like to be responsible for people, because they will only slow him down. But he feels responsible nevertheless. And often he can use a hand. His 'plans' are often not as much actual plans, as just a means to persuade people in aiding him. Background: Growing up, Robert had a rather normal childhood. In highschool he was one of the more alternative teenagers ofcourse. His most important problem at the time, was how society wanted him to be it's bitch by making him going to school and then study and work. That couldn't be what was meant for him. But other than that, not much weird stuff going on. Philosophy turned out a lot more boring and less enlightening than Robert had hoped. But he didn't want to return home emtpy handed. So he got a job at the library and bided his time in this town. It was even more boring than studying, but at least he could pay the rent and didn't have to put up with pretentious students and professors. But still, far from any great destiny. Despite his cynical attitude about religion in general, and after a night of heavy drinking, he went to church to pray for something good to happen. But as he was about to declare himself officialy crazy and close his eyes to start praying, a man next to him spoke to him. For some reason he quickly figured out Robert's situation and proposed to help him, if Robert did him a small favor. He needed to steal the small crucifix hanging on the wall of the church. Regardless of how the man was going to help him, that sounded like an exciting idea to him. So when the priest wasn't looking, he sneaked out the little artefact. After that, Grimbold asked him over for dinner. And they talked a lot. About life and society. Then Grimbold offered him a chance at a whole new life. Next to his current one. Relationships: Robert views everybody in the group as family. Though family doesn't necessarily means without friction. ♫Eddie ♫ and Robert are buddies. Robert is persuasive and Eddie tends to give in quickly, so Robert drags him along on his plans, more or less willingly. ⚡ Sloane ⚡ and Robert both are strong-willed individuals. This leads to clashes from time to time. Though he has respect for her independence. ♥ Terry ♥ has something very intruiging to Robert. She seems untouchable by his current social vocabulary. It's frustrating. Especially since he finds her rather attractive. ☯ Tobias ☯ is someone that Robert is slightly more careful with. He comes of as distant but dense, so he's just a little less comfortable around him than with the others. ☯ Cara ☯ is oke, but her controlling side is rather annoying. ☮ Nick ☮ is a great younger brother to have. Robert feels sort of a protector role for him. He will teach him the important things in life. Like rum appreciation. ☮ Nina ☮ is on Robert's level. Someone that he can talk with and have fun with. She's like a sister. But she's also hot. which is confusing. ☮Angel☮ Though she is relatively new, Robert gets a good vibe from her. Sharp and fun to hang with. ☮Skylar☮ Warm hearts are good company. Sky is comforting, which Rob needs sometimes. But she's also innocent enough for him to feel a protector role over her. ☯Daniel☯ He seems like a good kid, but Robert has a hard time really connecting with him. Extra: He wears a small flask filled with rum on his belt. Dark powers: Animal Form: Fox power: Loss of focus: For just a second, your thoughts were drifting somewhere else. You weren't paying attention you didn't watch where you were going. And now you walked into that lamppost, or cut yourself with the scissors. You stumbled, you hit your thumb with the hammer. Just your luck.

Ange Hardwicke Lieu; Château Street Café Interagir avec; Tobias, Eddie, Skylar "Jésus Toby, tu ne te fous pas de moi, n'est-ce pas?" Angel s'est moqué de sa suggestion de casser les jambes des pauvres... elle était presque sûre qu'un pire scénario serait de casser le cou de l'enfant et de le tuer, mais peu importe. Il y avait des choses plus faciles qu'elle pouvait lui faire oublier... comme verrouiller la porte d'entrée? Elle pourrait saccager leur cuisine, prétendre qu'il a fait une fête à la maison sans en parler à ses parents du quartier, ou l'avoir puni d'une autre façon? Elle a remarqué la façon dont Toby avait fermé Eddie légèrement - pas particulièrement grossier, mais son ton était certainement plus court avec le gars que avec Angel. "Merci Eddie, à tout à l'heure." Elle dit alors qu'il s'en allait, et elle regarda Toby de nouveau. "Quel était ton pouvoir déjà? Quelque chose comme prédire l'avenir? Ou c'était juste de mauvaises choses?" Elle a demandé, sourciller légèrement comme elle a essayé de se rappeler. "Tu ne peux pas faire grand-chose avec ton pouvoir, peut-être que je pourrais t'aider?" Elle m'a proposé. Soudain, ils ont été interrompus une fois de plus par un autre membre de leur famille; cela a frappé Angel comme certainement bizarre que tant de la famille se montre, au même endroit et en même temps. Cela lui donnait un sens troublant de Deja Vu (Ahahaha) d'hier soir. "Henry Johnson?" Angel répétait - le nom semblait familier. "Je pense qu'il va peut-être à l'université? Je suis sûr que j'ai déjà entendu le nom - peut-être qu'il étudie la psychologie?" Elle a suggéré de regarder Skylar.

Name: Angeline Megara Hardwicke Nickname: Angel Birth Date: 24th November Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual In The Mirror In Depth Appearance: Angel stands at a less than average height of 5’5, along with a slim hourglass figure, and a heart-shaped face; atop of which sits a mess of chocolate brown curls, often worn in a myriad of different styles, and various shades of brown depending on how she feels like dyeing it. Her eyes are a bright, clear blue, standing out thanks to her dark lashes and brows. Her tanned skin is mostly unmarred, barring tiny scars here and there from scuffles in the past and childhood accidents. Clothing Style: Angel’s clothing style very much changes with the wind and her mood – some days she’ll favour darker clothes in a punk style, paired with heavy make-up and an obvious attitude. Other days she’ll be natural, wearing dresses of various styles and colours and accompanying accessories. And then the day after that she’ll just dress comfortably, wearing jeans and over-sized sweaters. The only clothes that rarely change are her pyjamas – anything with teddy bears. Because teddy bears are awesome, guys. Delving Deeper Likes: Anything fluffy – particularly animals. Face Painting (Well, any form of painting really, but face painting is a fun pastime for her.) Way too Loud music (Particularly rock) Cooking Steak (Cooked blue – any more than that is blasphemy, in her eyes.) Puns, quips, innuendos, and double entendres. (She’ll even sometimes sink so low as to pull the ‘That’s what he/she said’ joke.) Chocolate Day-dreaming ELECTRIC GUITAAAAAARRRRRRR Marvel Nature, and all of her destructive and calm feelings. Dislikes: Marvel-bashers Screamo or death metal Messing up her paintings Nosiness Apathy Slyness Ignorance The ever growing cacophony of irritating sounds often found issuing from children and babies. Fears: Heights Insects and arachnids Dying in some kind of meaningless, pointless manner. Not having left something worthwhile on this earth before she dies. Habits: Humming snatches of songs, or simply guitar riffs, under her breath. Tapping out drum beats. Day dreaming, zoning out, or losing track of a conversation mid-sentence. Clinging to a point rather stubbornly, should she believe she is correct and the other person is wrong. Personality: Entertaining ♦ Stubborn ♦ Opinionated ♦ Warm-Hearted ♦ Sharp Despite the fact her looks – and occasionally scatter-braininess - can make Angel seem like a wee naive girl, she is far from it. She knows far more than she lets on, and she will never let anyone take advantage of her. However, when looking at what Angel truly is like, it is plain to see she can make quite the courteous friend. Not only is she happy to lend an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on, but she gives fairly shrewd advice to people’s problems, in the hopes of helping them. Because of this, she is hardly one to judge others for their acts. One perspective of a story is hardly going to change her opinion of someone. Additionally, she’s quick to make jokes or light-hearted remarks in the hopes of getting someone’s spirits up. Humour rarely fails her, and is a very easy thing to fall back on. As for her stubbornness... well, it’s a miracle her animal form isn’t a Bull. If she has a point in an argument she will fight it as long she believes she is correct – which can definitely cause irritation for others around her, but she does certainly enjoy being right in her views... not that that means she is not open to other people’s opinions. When it comes to hard facts, she will happily accept it if she is wrong in something. As for opinions, everyone is entitled to have them – unless some poor ignorant fool is under the impression that their opinions are indeed facts. In which case, she’s happy to deliver a few sharp words towards said ignoramous. Background: Angel has been living in Tallshade for a good few months now, alongside her younger brother and Uncle. Prior to this, the last time she could remember a normal home life was when she was 9 years old, and still living in England with her brother, and parents. As such, life was pretty good. Her Mother was a Detective, her Father was in the army, and she was doing pretty good in terms of friends and school. Even with an annoying 5-year-old brother hanging around her at all times. Except, this annoying little brother arriving was one of the few good things she could remember in this time of her life – for a few months after her ninth birthday, her Mother died. A police raid gone wrong or something. She was too young to be given all of the details, not that it made it any easier. It had been while her Dad was away, on a tour in some country that she couldn’t pronounce yet. Naturally, he came home early, to attend the funeral and look after his young children. Shortly after this, he left the Army, under Compassionate leave. However, his time abroad had left its mark already – he’d seen such horrors, comrades blown apart before him, that things weren’t so perfect for him mentally. He became paranoid, plagued with nightmares and the inclination that someone had killed his Wife, and was then after him and his two children. Just before Angel’s tenth birthday, their house was sold and they moved to America. From there, they lived a very uncomfortable nomadic lifestyle – travelling from state to state when their Father became certain “people” had followed him there. He acted in the attempt to save his family, and Angel understood that. She knew her Dad was sick, so she just helped look after her brother and kept her head down in school, never really answering truthfully when people asked her why she never stayed for long. However, she knew something had to be done when he grew distrustful of her. Over the years she was maturing into a young lady, body and accent changing – but in her Father’s demented mind, she should still be his little nine year old. She became unrecognizable, and after she came home from school one day at the age of 16, he attacked her, thinking she was some kind of assassin that had broken in. Evading her Father, Angel fled the home with her brother, heading straight to the nearest police station for aid. She knew this would mean social services would get involved, but she couldn’t live with her Dad anymore, not when he was quite capable of killing her and her brother in their sleep. After a few weeks of wrapping their heads around their case, and a few foster homes, social services were able to find a relative of theirs living in America. Although the offer to go back to England was there, Angel decided remaining in the USA was better. She didn’t particularly want to remain in the same country as her Dad (Who was being deported back to the UK to receive mental help), but she knew this life better than her English life. Their fathers cousin – they simply call him Uncle James, it’s easier – happily took them in, being childless himself, and after a few years living in rainy Washington, James’ work had them moved to Tallshade. Now 20 years old, Angel is approaching her final year at University, studying Psychology. Over the years, she has also developed into a low-key rebel. Although not far rebellious enough to joy-ride vehicles or break into houses, she does partake in some amusing deviant acts. Her Uncle is quite lax when it comes to curfews, but had they been in place, she wouldn’t have paid attention to them anyway. Also, as a lover of art, she is quite happy to graffiti the town – nothing as crude as tags, but things that actually look nice. This was how she came across the Mentor. Late one night, she was busy spraying a moonlit lake on a wall when he appeared behind her, at first complimenting her art... and then asking her to spray something for him. Although dubious at first, she swiftly deduced that he wasn’t a cop – a cop would have arrested her already. So, she quite happily sprayed a pentagram on the church wall prior to his instructions (And thoroughly enjoying the irony behind said act), and from there, the conversation grew far more... odd. Now here she is with super-powers like the guys in her favourite movies, and doing things for a guy for reasons unknown to her... Position in the group & Relationships: Quite easily, Angel is the joker of the group. The first to make a quip or crack a joke in a tense situation, and an easy-going source of entertainment. She's also in the younger half of the group, which makes her far more likely to look for support from the older ones - being the caretaker of her brother from a young age, it's a refreshing change. Although happy to take charge if needed, she’s more than at ease to let someone else take the job. ☮Robert☮ The boy is an adventure-loving musician; what's not to love? He isn't too hard on the eyes either... ☮Toby☮ Has a pretty calming air about him. Seems like a dependable friend. ☮Cara☮ Ah. Bluntness. What a refreshing change in this world of political correctness. Also a potential foe when it comes to debating. ☮Nick☮ Hell, the boy can draw. He seems pretty sweet too - although not overly so, thankfully. His bootlegging of alcohol tells me that. ☮Nina☮ If I were to describe her in one word, it would be bitch. But hell, being a bitch isn't always a bad thing. I do admire girls and their claws, and she's got the sharpest of them all. Quite the hellion one looks for in a friend. ☯Eddie☯ Seems kind of meek, not really one to stand up for himself. Which is slightly irritating, but hey, the guy hasn't done anything bad to me. ☯Sloane☯ A fellow admirer of art, and isn't irritating so far. ⚡Teryn⚡ Ugh. I admire stubbornness, but clinging to one's opinions when proven wrong is pathetic. Lady also has some severe issues with everything and everyone, it would seem. Also, she hates dogs. Who hates dogs? THEY'RE SO FLUFFY! ☮Skylar☮ Reminds me of me, somewhat – although she seems sweeter than myself. A good friend – almost motherly, which is appreciated more than she knows. ☯Daniel☯ He seems nice enough, but is almost like a puzzle – one which I am itching to try and solve. Extra: Likes to partake in some underage drinking – moreso than what one would consider to be healthy. Dotes on the family dog – a clumsy Alsatian by the name of Dexter. Is a supreme geek lord – will thrash your ass in any trivia in regards to her favourite fantasy novels or media. Thanks to an extremely paranoid crazy army dad, was taught how to use Morse Code from a very young age. Dark powers: Animal Form: Black Coyote Power: Déjà Vu: Can give the feeling of Déjà Vu to anyone, by wiping their memory from the past few seconds – this can cause slight disorientation, or simply a repetition of a phrase or sentence. Useful if she needs to record or remember a conversation, or slip away without them realising.

Sloane Shields Emplacement: Boucliers d'encre Interagir avec Cara Alors que Sloane préparait le thé, elle écoutait silencieusement. Même quand Cara s'arrêtait, elle attendait; elle avait fait le bon choix en étant simplement directe et directe avec Sloane parce qu'elle n'avait manifestement pas beaucoup d'intérêt pour le chat de chit. Au moment où Cara a fini de parler, l'artiste traquait de nouveau, marchant sur son chat. Lorsqu'elle s'est arrêtée devant l'autre, elle s'est cognée brillamment sur le stylo avec lequel elle jouait et a tenu le thé à sa place. « Il fait chaud », a-t-elle simplement prévenu avant de remonter autour du comptoir. "Aucune idée. Probablement à l'université puisque je ne connais pas le nom," Sloane a répondu, ajoutant le nom: "Miles Hemlock." Cara était étudiante, peut-être qu'elle avait entendu parler de lui. Pourtant, elle avait la demande de Cara à l'adresse aussi, donc elle a continué. "La paranoïa devrait faciliter la tâche. Mais oui, je peux aider." Elle a un peu hurlé. "Le pire, c'est de se casser les jambes. Qu'est-ce qu'il va faire alors?" Le sourire qui a touché ses lèvres à la suggestion d'attaquer quelqu'un était un peu trop sincère.

You should never feel afraid to become a piece of art. Personal Information NAME Sloane Shields NICKNAMES Ona: given to her by her grandfather, but only her immediate family wastes time giving her name an extra syllable. Lo: she was first called this by her high school sweetheart and resents it being used by anyone else. BIRTH DATE November 21, 1990 AGE 25 GENDER Female SEXUALITY Bisexual In The Mirror APPEARANCE Her pale green eyes stand out the most: although mostly a light and icy green, flecks of deeper emerald and gold dot the irises. She tends to wear dark eyeliner and eye shadow that compliments the color. Sloane’s skin is dark brown in contrast, and she wears make up to accent her high cheekbones. Her dreadlocks are dark brown–nearly black–in color and are styled like a Mohawk with both sides shaved close to her scalp. She walks with a tall, confident demeanor and tends to wear a combination of tight pants and layered tanktops to show off her tattoo sleeves. Toned arms and legs stretch far, emphasizing her height and slimness–high heels help, too. Her nails are typically painted black, but are sometimes accented with whites, golds, reds, or purples as well. She also has tattoos behind her ear, neck, on her back and legs, hips, below her chest, and..elsewhere. Said tattoos include but are not limited to her zodiac sign, favorite quote, a semi-colon, and tribal designs. When it comes to jewelry, she has small gauges in her ears and long necklaces that dangle over her chest. She’ll sometimes have thick bracelets and rings on, as well. In her heels, she stands over 6' tall and weighs about 140 lbs. Notable tattoos: due to her dark skin, plain black tattoos are less than flashy. So she uses a lot of color in her work. On her left wrist is a compass, splattered with water color ink. The compass bleeds up her arm and into the rest of her sleeve. On the inside of her opposite arm is her first tattoo, gotten while taking Latin her freshmen year of high school: carpe noctem is scripted in hard, bold letters. This arm is sleeved, too, and compliments the phrase though overall it's not as colorful as her left arm. On her back is a decorated tree, decorated with reds and oranges. Finally, "1988" scripted on the side of her left ring finger. This is Winston's--her high school sweetheart's--birth year. These aren't all of her tattoos, but probably her most notable / important ones. CLOTHING A little athletic, a little slutty, all sexy: Sloane has a lean, beautiful body and she isn't afraid to show it off or the tattoos that decorate it. Her style can be described as a little grunge and a little street; she's always looks ready to go to a club. And unless she's working out, she's wearing heels. Sample wardrobe: X X X X X X X X Delving Deeper ♦ Ambitious ♦ Cold ♦ Creative ♦ Independent PESONALITY When it comes to people, she can come off friendly enough, though she’s rather apathetic behind the smiles. She’s far more interested in art and animals and magic, but she recognizes the importance and usefulness in others. Still, when her mood is soured, she can be sadistic and cruel to those she feel has wronged her–though, at times, she finds herself acting pointlessly cruel sometimes out of impatience or defensiveness. Needless to say, Sloane tends to look out for herself before others. However, she can easily bond with another over similar interests. She likes being active and loves to travel when she’s commissioned for a tattoo from someone out of town. Her less-than-conservative style stands out in a small town and she welcomes rumors of her being in a cult or a witch or in a gang or anything. LIKES Animals Art (tattoos, photography, paint, you name it) Foreign movies Tea Dance and rap Cities DISLIKES People (especially dull men) Feeling dumb: she dropped out of high school so, while clever, she isn't educated. And this can lead her to feeling self conscious about her intelligence. Fast food Boy bands Ross from FRIENDS FEARS Death Weakness Intimacy HABITS Playing with her hair StaringDoodling if she has a pen or pencil in hand BACKGROUND Sloane was born to an interracial couple (most notably of Sudanese and Iranian descent among others), but was raised by her mother and grandfather. There isn't much else to be said for the early years of her life because she was raised happily and healthily. Her sense of style growing up scared away potential friends, as she tended to take on a gothic/emo appearance, but she was content. And she was particularly happy when her first boyfriend (who on the surface was an idiot but friendly jock) asked her out and they became an item. They were happy together for only about six months: A particularly romantic Valentines Day led to a teen pregnancy with her first boyfriend. With support from both their families, she had planned to raise it with him. However, he died in an accident and she put the baby up for adoption instead--this being her biggest regret and a decision she made out of grief. Then she dropped out of her sophomore year of high school to become a tattoo artist. Neither her grandfather nor mother were very happy, but they tried to be supportive due to the tragic loss. While other people studied through and graduated from high school, Sloane spent those years studying the art of tattoos. She was a fast learner and talented artist. And now, at 25, she owns her own tattoo shop and apartment above it: Ink Shields. It's of course popular with university students, but she gets both people travelling far and paid extra to leave town for her artwork. It was soon after dropping out of high school that the Mentor appeared before her and gave her first task: key some guy's car. She was in a vulnerable place emotionally and psychologically, so she did. And the powers and the sense of family that came with them allowed her to toughen up and grow into the woman she is today. RELATIONSHIPS What I'm thinking so far (correct me if I'm mischaracterizing anyone): Sloane can come off as the stern but caring big-sister type. However, the latter is a lot harder to see, and she has little patience for weaknesses in herself or others. Terry: likes Terry enjoys her company as they have a lot of common--including the types of issues they face being a minority in a small town. She sees herself in Terry. Eddie: she has nothing against Eddie personally, but he seems to lack spine. She's impatient and snippy with him, partly because he just lets her. Robert: Finds him impulsive and obnoxious, but she knows there's more to him than that. He's not afraid to speak his mind, which she can at least respect. Cara: she comes off as friendly enough, but Sloane has seen the control freak side as well. She doesn't really mind allowing Cara to do what she wants, it's usually harmless to her. Toby: Dick. Sloane is p sure he's afraid of her since he doesn't always speak up. Makes her want to antagonize him more. Nina: They're both powerful, confident, and ambitious. So alike that they clash: Nina is really the only other member she considers worthy of rivalry. Nick: He's refreshing and bright--probably partly because he's the youngest of the group. But she admires his work and sees potential in Nick. Probably particularly protective of him. Angel: She doesn't have a problem with Angel; the girl seems tough as nails and Sloane admires her confidence. She's not ignorant to the issues between her and Terry, though, and would like to see them get along. Sky: Sloane was less than impressed with Sky when they first meant, but the woman's kindness and wisdom grew on her over time. And while she considers her a friend, she's also attracted to her as a person. EXTRA She has a Maine Coon named Nox. Her favorite color is deep red and she likes the scent of leather. Song: Life in Her Yet by Rag’n’Bone Man and Muse by OCAD. Dark Powers ANIMAL FORM Sloane's deer form is, of course, black as coal. However, she's relatively large for what would be a female deer, but nothing impossible for the species. Ironically, deer--especially does--are docile creatures whereas Sloane is anything but; however, she shares its lean, graceful figure and long limbs. POWER Umbra: Sloane can darken and manipulate shadows to a small degree, creating what would otherwise be a trick of the eye. She has exercised control over the power; however, her mental state can easily affect her control. Rage or depression can cause the lights to flicker and dim.

Cara Osborne Emplacement; Boucliers d'encre Interagir avec; Sloane "Miles Hemlock." Cara parrotté, prenant la tasse de thé à la vapeur avec un clin d'œil de remerciement. Déposer le stylo de Sloane sur le comptoir, Cara a enveloppé les deux mains autour de la tasse, laissant la céramique chaude réchauffer ses doigts. La meilleure chose à propos du thé, Cara a décidé, était le confort qu'il pouvait apporter. Non seulement il a goûté divin, mais il a aidé à garder un chaud sur un matin de février frais. "C'est familier, mais ça ne peut pas vraiment le placer." Cara a fait une note mentale pour garder une oreille pour ce nom. S'il s'agissait d'une famille, elle devrait arriver quelque part. Cara riait de la sombre suggestion de Sloane. "Je ne sais pas pour vous, mais j'aime bien avoir mon casier judiciaire propre." Prenant une gorgée de thé, elle soupira au goût. Oui, divin. "Je vais demander à monsieur Hemlock, quelqu'un en classe devrait le connaître. Ou de lui." Cara a offert. "Je vais essayer d'effrayer Janet. Pensez-vous qu'elle sera terrifiée par un serpent dans sa chambre?" Cara a demandé. Bien sûr, l'idée du serpent était une blague, il était plus probable qu'elle serait terrifiée et finirait par appeler l'exterminateur. Et peut-être attirer l'attention indésirable sur la famille. C'est pas une bonne idée.

Name: Catherine Amaya Osborne Nickname: Cara Birth Date: November 7th Age: Twenty-two Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual In The Mirror In Depth Appearance: Barely reaching 5'1" and weighing only 50kg (110lbs), Cara gives the impression of being cute and harmless. While she likes to be known as cute, harmless is something she's certainly not. The petite girl has an hourglass figure, hips wide but waist slender, usually maintained by her rapid metabolism and strict diet (other than chocolate, Cara can never resist anything chocolatey). Cara has a dimple on her left cheek, an indication of her smiley nature. She also has a naturally tanned complexion, complementing her brown hair and eyes. Speaking of eyes, Cara has wide doe eyed brown orbs, giving her an innocent look which is framed with thick, dark eyebrows. She also has shoulder-length brown hair, thick and kept straight with overgrown fringes that frame her somewhat chubby cheeks perfectly. Clothing Style: Cara loves to dress up, no matter the occasion. She loves to wear various skirts and dresses, as long as it's chic and cute (to match her bubbly-looking appearance). She also likes experimenting with her clothes, so one day she may go for a bold design, or the other she'd wear something simple. Make-up wise, Cara loves to define her eyes, either with some eyeliner or with dark eyeshadow. Lip colours vary depending on her mood or the situation, usually switching from naturals, pinks and bold reds. Deeper Likes: Tea Terrible romance drama films Cycling Reading Chocolate Dislikes: Doing nothing Coffee People who call her a control freak Anything cold Debby-downers Fears: Losing control of her life Suffocating Letting people too close Habits: Tapping her fingers against surfaces Playing with her hair Pouting her lips while in thought Personality: ♦ Kind ♦ Control Freak ♦ Blunt ♦ Stubborn ♦ Manipulative ♦ At first glance, people assume that Cara is docile and harmless, the cutesy one, if you will. However, Cara is anything but docile. She has been known to argue and stand by her points (and values) no matter what, her stubborn streak comparable to that of a boulder. Her stubbornness paired with her controlling personality can make her quite the unpleasant person to hang around with, most of the time. However, Cara refuses to acknowledge herself as a control-freak, that's one thing that would piss her off. Cara is very confident, in herself and her abilities. She is also always found with a smile (whether its fake or genuine, people usually can't tell). Don't get fooled by her sweet smile, however, as Cara can potentially use her 'sweet, innocent appearance' to dupe people. Cara also likes to consider herself honest, but most of her 'honesty' is just the blunt truth. She never sugar-coats her words (unless she's fooling someone), her words usually unfiltered. Overall, Cara can be nice when she needs to be, but piss her off and she can be a vindictive little bitch. Background: Born in the English countryside, in a small town where everyone knew everything, Catherine had a normal childhood. Or, as normal as one could get having seven older siblings. It wasn't like she was neglected or abused in the household, but Catherine knew that she wasn't the most wanted child. Having to compete with seven other children for any attention, Catherine developed into a loud, stubborn child that was hard to reason with unless she was bribed with chocolates. Catherine was encouraged to pick up many hobbies, including dancing and painting alongside furthering her education. Most of her siblings were average students, Catherine included. However, the girl had found her calling in life: to be a surgeon, where she had the contol and power to save lives. The medicine path motivated the girl throughout her childhood and teenage years, making her a hard-working student and achieving good grades even though she wasn't a genius. This remained until Cara finished her secondary education, achieving high grades - especially in science and maths. The girl, during her hunt for a university, stumbled on a town named Tallshade hidden within the forest. Liking the prospect of moving away from the stuffy town, Cara applied immediately for a medical course, before packing up and moving out as soon as she hit eighteen. Cara performed well during the first few years of her medical degree, studying hard and maintaining her work ethic like back at home. Cara met The Mentor during one of her panic-study sessions at the local library. Funnily enough, the girl actually screamed out 'I wish I could get them to listen to me!' before she noticed The Mentor beside her. Offering her powers in exchange doing whatever he wanted, the girl accepted immediately. That was a year ago, and now, Cara loves her life. Position in the group: Cara's desire for control means that she strives to be a leader, even if she's not the best person to lead a team. She likes to consider everybody in the group as friends, or at least some of them, but it doesn't mean that they're exempt to her blunt and bold personality. ☯ Neutral || ☮ Friends || ♫ Best Friends || ♥ Love Interest || 💕 Boyfriend/Girlfriend || ⚡ Rivals || ⚔ Nemesis ☮ Eddie ☮ Sweet guy, but he just needs to stand up for himself. Cara likes Eddie enough to try and tame her bold personality so she doesn't scare him off (even if it's not much difference). Cara doesn't like Nina's tendancy to bully Eddie, which often results in her advising him on ways to defend himself - her advice usually coming out as forceful. ☯ Terry ☯ Cara appreciates her observant nature, knowing that her fake smiles don't work on the quiet girl. Cara tends to just stay away from Terry, more because she doesn't know how to approach her without losing her cool. ☮ Sloane ☮ Bold and proud, Cara definitely likes Sloane, acting friendly enough to her. If she were attracted to women, she would've been attracted to Sloane. ☯ Robert ☯ Robert's playful nature reminds her of an excitable puppy. Cara doesn't mind going along with many of his schemes, as long as she doesn't consider it stupid. Again, like with many of the others, Cara remains friendly with Robert, as long as he doesn't make her feel like she doesn't have control during his schemes. ☮ Toby ☮ He's quite the looker, but withdrawn. She doesn't know much about Toby, and while she's curious, she doesn't bother to ask. There is a possibility that Cara could be attracted to Toby, but its more of a physical thing, rather than an emotional one. ☮ Nick ☮ Like the little brother of the group, Cara can understand what its like to be the youngest sibling, but she doesn't baby Nick either, no matter how adorable he looks in his ferret form. ⚡ Nina ⚡ Nina and Cara have a hot and cold friendship: one day they could get along well enough to watch movies and hang out with each other, the next they could easily grate on each other's nerves. ☮ Angel ☮ Angel is one girl that Cara knows she can have a argument debate with, no matter how heated it may get due to their stubborn nature. Both also from England, Cara likes to think that the two are friends. She doesn't mind showing Angel around Tallshade, since Cara understands what its like to be new in a different environment. Extra: Cara speaks with a hint of a British accent, one of the only hints to her British background. She's trying to give up smoking, after having a little health scare a while ago. powers: Animal Form: Power: Cara has the ability to make people hear whispers. It's not her speaking, but just simple idle chatter as if someone is right behind them, even if no one is there. Serves as a great distraction tool during exam season, though.

| The Apostle | Syrenia Iliandur Early Twenties Syrenia is a descendant of Iliandur, although which dynastic line is particularly unknown due to the effects of her rebirth. With flowing pink-colored hair and blue eyes, Syrenia has a naturally soft appearance; though she is not as petite as she appears. Standing at 5’3”, Syrenia is shorter than most considering the average height of a woman of Iliandur was nearly three or so inches greater. In her time as a clerical knight of Iliandur the training Syrenia was forced to endure has given her a physical conditioning that has shaped her physique to be durable yet flexible, though her training like many others did not block her from an early demise. Whilst Syrenia was a girl of faith, she was also a daughter of a scientist thus her viewpoint isn’t as nearly as naively optimistic as some of her peers were. This background taught her to be practical in her life and in her views, though that practicality did not stop her from being killed in the vicious way that she was. However, practicality did not impede her from the religious ideology that was ingrained within her nor did it remove her of her compassion or sincerity for others. Whilst she might be quick to point out that something is impractical or unwise, it will not always stop her from acting; though the new world she will experience might test those very views. Skilled Archer — The clerical knights of Iliandur were capable archers as well as swordsmen and priests. During her lifetime preceding the Inalienable Dreamless Syrenia was trained as an inquisitor; the formal title given to apostles of the Grand Cleric and guardians of peace. Apostle – As part of her training as a clerical knight Syrenia was taught how to channel the energies from holy relics to use minor holy magic with such as small blessings, wards, and other spells. Without an artifact Syrenia lacks something to draw from and even with her gift of rebirth she lacks the knowledge to draw from her own soul. Daughter of an Alchemist – Whilst she remembers little with the rebirth process, Syrenia was the daughter of an alchemist and was taught since childhood about the process of potion-making and general herbalism for the benefit of others. This also grants her a minor knowledge about toxicology if and when it comes back to her. Inquistor's Quiver — Stripped of her bow, Syrenia retains her quiver though it has been stripped of all of her arrows. Clerical Knight's Armor — Syrenia’s armor as a clerical knight was crafted for a mobile fighter that could allow quick movement with limited but sufficient protection. However much of it has been lost to time and by the thieving hands of fallen humanity. What remains of her armor has been restored from the decay of time; but it is apparent that she is missing a shoulder spaulder. The cloth underneath the armor remains though its color has faded. Satchel – With her backpack stolen, it is a surprising relief that Syrenia has anything to hold scattered potions, coin, and objects at all. A small holding capacity, but it is better than nothing. Holy Conduit — Perhaps as a nod to her origins as a clerical knight, Syrenia has been gifted with the holy energies of Helstar & Aegis that drown her soul in potent holy magic. The abilities of this gift are varied but unknown to her; allowing herself to serve as a divine conduit the purity of her soul can heal, cure, or revive and perhaps purify or smite.

Au fond des Hollows était ce que les restes de l'humanité appelé The Pit, une chambre abandonnée depuis longtemps qui a attiré beaucoup d'obscurité en raison de la nature de son existence comme un domaine désespéré pour revitaliser les efforts de survie de l'humanité et de refuser le sort de leur existence maintenant maudite. Il était vrai, bien sûr, que l'apocalypse qu'ils appelaient l'Iabilitaire Dreamless avait damné l'humanité à un destin pire que la mort, alors que des monstres et des démons ignobles rugissaient maintenant le monde devant eux avec une faim de destruction qui ne pouvait être réduite. Mais jusqu'où le désespoir de l'humanité les emporterait-il? La réponse a menti dans ce qui restait dans les coins les plus sombres et les chambres les plus profondes des Hollows. Cependant, l'heure la plus sombre de l'humanité n'était pas la seule chose qui existait dans ce puits de douleur, cette fosse d'âmes perdues – car c'est ici, en ce jour, que les dieux regarderaient en arrière sur l'humanité et dans les monticules de cadavres, d'étangs de sang et de puanteur de pourriture dont sept se réveilleraient comme leurs lèvres une fois de plus gazées pour l'air comme la douleur flippante de la mort dont ils avaient été absolus serait leur dernier souvenir clair. Le premier à se réveiller avait des cheveux de rose et saphir des yeux, son visage du corps vers le bas dans une piscine de cramoisi. Il n'y a que quelques instants, elle avait été sans vie, comme elle l'avait fait il y a quelques années, dans un état purgatoire éternel. Ses poings se sont serrés dans la piscine peu profonde, saisissant les débris de pierre fissurée qui ont menti en dessous, son corps tremblant douloureusement avant qu'elle ne lève la tête de la piscine dans une gaspille douloureuse alors que l'eau pourpre sortait de ses poumons. Quoi? La jeune fille a continué à tousser pendant quelques minutes au fur et à mesure que ses yeux s'élargissaient, son corps s'adaptant à sa revitalisation soudaine, compte tenu de la dernière chose qui a été ressentie était la frappe d'un ennemi maul et la pression d'une botte en métal sur le cou alors que le sang remplissait ses poumons. La fille aux cheveux roses s'est souvenue de la noyade, de l'étouffement et de la noirceur de la mort. Mais alors que ses sens lui revenaient, douloureux comme ils étaient, elle savait une chose même dans la brume de la douleur et de la confusion – cet endroit n'était rien de semblable à celui sur lequel elle se souvenait de perdre sa vie. Une mort qu'elle s'est sentie il y a quelques secondes. C'est pas vrai. Avant qu'elle ne puisse se composer plus loin, le son de six souffles successifs et des murmures de douleur pouvaient être entendus de l'autre côté du fond de la fosse en forme de chambre qu'elle avait réveillé à l'intérieur. Un froncement se formant sur sa lèvre comme elle a maladroitement fait à ses pieds, s'emparant instinctivement d'un arc maintenant manquant dans l'anxiété nerveuse. Où suis-je? Qu'est-il arrivé à mon arc? Le champ de bataille sur lequel j'étais? Qui m'a traînée ici? Pourquoi? Elle ne savait pas ce qui se passait. Tout ce qu'elle savait, c'était que la chambre sentait la pourriture, avait l'air odieuse et se sentait mal. Ses yeux descendirent jusqu'à celui d'une épée rouillée qui coulait dans le sang et l'eau souillée. Elle était peu bonne avec une épée, mais elle a été entraînée là-dedans pour autant qu'elle puisse se rappeler; si le shuffle d'autres dans cet endroit odieux était précédent d'une bataille à se produire qu'elle avait besoin pour au moins être en mesure de se défendre contre le mal. Elle a peut-être été une archer d'abord et toutes les choses secondes, mais elle ne pouvait pas être choosy vu quel peu elle se rappelait et où sur elle s'était réveillée. C'est de la damnation. C'est mieux que rien. Elle a balayé l'épée de la piscine alors qu'elle marchait en arrière – en arrière contre le mur. Par la bénédiction de Lyriel, qu'est-ce qui se passe?

| The Apostle | Syrenia Iliandur Early Twenties Syrenia is a descendant of Iliandur, although which dynastic line is particularly unknown due to the effects of her rebirth. With flowing pink-colored hair and blue eyes, Syrenia has a naturally soft appearance; though she is not as petite as she appears. Standing at 5’3”, Syrenia is shorter than most considering the average height of a woman of Iliandur was nearly three or so inches greater. In her time as a clerical knight of Iliandur the training Syrenia was forced to endure has given her a physical conditioning that has shaped her physique to be durable yet flexible, though her training like many others did not block her from an early demise. Whilst Syrenia was a girl of faith, she was also a daughter of a scientist thus her viewpoint isn’t as nearly as naively optimistic as some of her peers were. This background taught her to be practical in her life and in her views, though that practicality did not stop her from being killed in the vicious way that she was. However, practicality did not impede her from the religious ideology that was ingrained within her nor did it remove her of her compassion or sincerity for others. Whilst she might be quick to point out that something is impractical or unwise, it will not always stop her from acting; though the new world she will experience might test those very views. Skilled Archer — The clerical knights of Iliandur were capable archers as well as swordsmen and priests. During her lifetime preceding the Inalienable Dreamless Syrenia was trained as an inquisitor; the formal title given to apostles of the Grand Cleric and guardians of peace. Apostle – As part of her training as a clerical knight Syrenia was taught how to channel the energies from holy relics to use minor holy magic with such as small blessings, wards, and other spells. Without an artifact Syrenia lacks something to draw from and even with her gift of rebirth she lacks the knowledge to draw from her own soul. Daughter of an Alchemist – Whilst she remembers little with the rebirth process, Syrenia was the daughter of an alchemist and was taught since childhood about the process of potion-making and general herbalism for the benefit of others. This also grants her a minor knowledge about toxicology if and when it comes back to her. Inquistor's Quiver — Stripped of her bow, Syrenia retains her quiver though it has been stripped of all of her arrows. Clerical Knight's Armor — Syrenia’s armor as a clerical knight was crafted for a mobile fighter that could allow quick movement with limited but sufficient protection. However much of it has been lost to time and by the thieving hands of fallen humanity. What remains of her armor has been restored from the decay of time; but it is apparent that she is missing a shoulder spaulder. The cloth underneath the armor remains though its color has faded. Satchel – With her backpack stolen, it is a surprising relief that Syrenia has anything to hold scattered potions, coin, and objects at all. A small holding capacity, but it is better than nothing. Holy Conduit — Perhaps as a nod to her origins as a clerical knight, Syrenia has been gifted with the holy energies of Helstar & Aegis that drown her soul in potent holy magic. The abilities of this gift are varied but unknown to her; allowing herself to serve as a divine conduit the purity of her soul can heal, cure, or revive and perhaps purify or smite.

XEGA Pourquoi? Pourquoi ici? Je n'étais pas censé... pas ici... Je peux... Les mains pâles et minces se saisirent futilement à l'arrière de la lance qui sortait de sa poitrine. Même le toucher a causé des vagues de douleur à travers lui. Il a vomi, son propre sang. Soudain, il était sur le sol, pourquoi ses jambes ne fonctionnaient-elles pas? Tout... était... froid... et... Les lèvres craquées se séparaient et respiraient. Les poumons qui s'étaient atrophiés, striés, ont soudainement recommencé à gonfler, leur longue chair séchée en quelque sorte remplie de vie donnant à nouveau du sang, leurs veines commencent à gonfler. Un battement du cœur, forçant une nouvelle vie à travers les tissus momifiés comme presser de l'eau à travers un tuyau à point sec. Toux violente, un corps se branlant dans l'agonie que les muscles inutilisés pour qui savait combien de temps ont été forcés à spasme et s'étirer. Un cri. Une blessure à la poitrine a commencé à expirer en poussant un fer de lance rouillé. Le métal corrodé est tombé au sol. Xega a ouvert les yeux, des étincelles bleues dansent à travers eux. Il s'est soudain branlé, comme d'un rêve. Comme il l'a fait, les cadavres qu'il était couché en dessous se sont roulés, plus loin dans la pile, jusqu'à ce qu'ils atterrissent avec une éclaboussure dans un bassin de liquide fétide et sanglant. Était-ce de l'eau, tachée par le sang des cadavres? Ou quelque chose d'autre, qui coule d'une créature impie? Il ouvrit et ferma les doigts, sentit ses bras. Il était mort. Il le savait. Il était mort, et maintenant il ne l'était pas. Maintenant ses blessures ont disparu et il était vivant et il pouvait respirer. Il l'a fait maintenant, une respiration profonde et frémissante. Il a regardé autour de la pièce, en prenant tout. Des piles de cadavres. Sols en pierre... une masse innommable et sans nom de chair suspendue de haut en haut. Une tour d'une sorte. Escaliers, une passerelle. Braziers... encore en feu. Qui était là? Mouvement, près du mur. Il s'est cassé la tête, tenant une main... une femme, avec une épée. Cheveux roses. Petit cadre, mais quelque chose sur la façon dont elle se tenait avec l'instrument rouillé qui parlait de l'entraînement. La peur et la confusion dans son visage. Qui êtes-vous? Il a parlé, poussant sur les cadavres en bas de lui-même pour se lever. Sa voix portait un ton de supériorité, malgré son incertitude, car, si quelque chose était certain, c'était que Xega, lui, avait déjà apparemment eu une victoire sur la mort une fois, et qu'il ne serait pas pris par la peur de l'inconnu, pas par sa fierté en tant que chercheur. Qu'est-ce que c'est que cet endroit?Il a failli trébucher quand il a fait son chemin vers le bas de la pile, ses robes--maintenant battues et déchirées-- attrapant sur un membre et ses pieds instables sur la chair longue et morte des autres. Mais bientôt il se tint sur un sol solide, ses jambes secouèrent, mais il le cacha avec un balayage de sa cape, et affronta la femme. Il attendait qu'elle réponde, ses yeux jetant plus de regards sur la pièce. Où était son équipe? Ses foyers? Leurs runes protectrices auraient dû garder les voleurs d'eux, et ils avaient été avec lui quand il est tombé...

| The Magus | Xega Xir Early Twenties Xega, as a studious mage of one of the most prestigious academies of Xir--though he can't remember which one--has the frail form one would associate with such. At a height of five feet and eleven inches, he stands just short of the standard many might consider "manly," but then most mages weren't concerned with such matters of primitive brawn. He barely weighs one hundred and forty pounds, and has woman-like features especially about his face and slender, nimble fingers. Currently, immediately after his Rebirth, his eyes bear deep lines beneath them and his cheeks are sunken; his illustrious, deep purple hair is now messy and looks as if it hadn't been washed in days. Xega is self-centered and arrogant, and considers himself an intellectual only concerned with his pursuits of arcane mystery. He finds such things as physical strength and athleticism to be beneath him, and considers those who would employ such against him to be barbarians--and yet, like any man of the mind, he finds himself infuriatingly helpless against such overpowering brawn. Xega cannot stand not knowing the answer to a question, and will maddeningly seek a solution with relentless zeal. His excitement can be contagious, as despite his normal introversion, if he can connect with someone about his studies he becomes much more personable. Skilled Magician - Xega was a graduate student of his academy, pursuing research and conducting experiments alongside some of the finest minds of Xir. As such, his command of the arcane arts is considerably mighty. Fulgurmancy - Xega's preferred forms of battlecraft, the magics of conflict, involves the use of controlled lightning. With it he can produce bolts or streams of white hot lightning to electrocute and scorch his enemies. The short lived nature of lightning, however, makes it hard to use defensively or to maintain a spell for long periods. Sharp Mind - As one who has researched and studied for such a large portion of his life, and being naturally intelligent and inquisitive, Xega is equipped to handle many a mystery or mental puzzle with relative ease. Wizard's Staff - A hardwood staff of about six feet, its last third of length seemingly naturally grown into the shape of a plaited braid. It curls slightly, forming a hook onto which to attach Xega's magus foci. The staff itself merely provides a means of gesture and focus, as well as a last line of defense. Runes are etched into its surface, their protective wards being the only thing that kept the staff from being stolen from his corpse. Crystal Lantern - This shining brass lantern holds within it a crystal of condense arcane power, which serves as a collector of ambient magical energies and a focus for Xega to use to reduce the strain on himself when channeling the Arcane Stream. Its magics are bonded specifically to Xega himself, making it useless to anyone else, and some of the same runes that protected the staff protected it as well. Book Satchel - Once, this satchel held Xega's tomes of sorcery. They have been looted from his former corpse, however, all but one--a basic textbook that was already far outdated in Xega's own time, and is now so dry rotted and yellowed as to be practically illegible. Runesight - A gift that can only be from Arcanus himself, Xega will find that at certain times magical runes appear within the depths of his black pupils, which dilate to a much larger size as if engulfing a void. These runes confer upon him powerful magic sight, granting him visions of "true nature," which sometimes include not just what something truly "is," but perhaps, if the target of his sight is now broken, a vision of what it "once was." It cannot be activated by Xega's own will as of yet, though he struggles to understand it and use it as he would all his other magics. A fitting power, for one whose life is driven by endless thirst for knowledge.

L'Édorique s'est réveillé, quelque chose l'avait ébranlé de son sommeil mortel. Il est allé prendre son premier souffle, seulement pour être rencontré avec un poumon plein de... sang? Après suffoquer sur son propre vomi alors qu'il se tortillait en violette comme un poisson sur terre, il réussit à se manœuvrer sur ses genoux où il pouvait bien nettoyer ses poumons. Il regarda la piscine de rouge qui s'était formée sous lui, comment sa salvia s'était mélangée avec le liquide cramoisi pour former des traces de sang qui s'accrochaient encore sur ses lèvres fissurées comme des toiles d'araignées rouges. Il pouvait sentir ses yeux composer dedans et dehors comme ils ont eu l'habitude d'être d'usage une fois de plus et a amené lentement l'homme dans la persepctive de son monde. Et le garçon n'était pas joli. La première chose que Edoric a remarquée, c'était le tas de corps posés devant lui, tous sanctifiés et émus de visages sculptés de souffrance et d'agonie. Edoric voulait le vomir à nouveau, mais cette fois seulement un mince filet de sang dribblé, suivi d'une bile amère qu'il s'est forcé à avaler. Au fur et à mesure que sa respiration augmentait et que son cœur commençait à s'élancer, il sentait ses mains s'emparer du sol froid et dur de pierre pour essayer de libérer ses jambes de la montagne de cadavres douloureux dont les bras tendus et désossés suppliaient l'aide d'Édoric. Il s'abandonna, tira sa jambe libre et frappa avec réflexion l'un des bras qu'il croyait encore se diriger vers lui; une croûte écœurante suivit alors que la moelle et l'os se brisèrent et se renversèrent d'une manière qu'aucun bras ne devrait, le tendon à faible pour tenir le membre brisé. Il voulait crier. Il voulait pleurer. Il voulait se boucler et faire des larmes vides comme si c'était encore un enfant. Mais pourtant, il ne l'a pas fait. Il a gardé son esprit (et probablement sa santé mentale) avec tout l'espoir cher qu'il pourrait se rassembler, fermant les yeux pour essayer de mettre fin à cette vision horrible de la mort et de la décomposition comme si c'était un mauvais rêve et il se réveillerait sur un beau lit confortable assez tôt. Mais il n'y avait pas de lit, car il n'y avait pas de rêve. C'était un cauchemar. O-o-oh ka-ka-kayyy... j'ai juste ke-e-eppppp k-kk-kalm um-umm... e-er-er... E-Edward? N-noe... Eb-Ebadlian? N-n-non... L'Édorique éclaboussait son esprit poussiéreux et déchiqueté pour son propre nom alors que celui qui tentait de fermer les yeux et les odeurs autour de lui, mais l'odeur de la mort et de la pourriture était excessive et le poussait à bâillonner sur son propre souffle avant de venir à son nom. Est-ce que c'était E-Ed-Edoric w-w-w-est-ce que c'était? Oui, c'était ma na-nam-moi, c'est ça? L'homme se mit à remplir certains des autres trous qu'il avait en se remorquant fermement. Il était Edorique d'un nom de famille qu'il ne pouvait pas se rappeler, un marchand de genre de Zeal? Non, Sith. C'est pas vrai. Nonono, ça aussi, ça ne va pas. C'était Sikth, ahhh oui, c'était l'endroit. Il avait erré d'un endroit à l'autre pour faire du commerce et vendre des marchandises... peut-être avec des camarades? Ou était-il toujours seul? Claquant les mains sur sa tête tremblante, les sonneries et les accrochages de chaînes annonçaient son ouïe de nouveau dans le monde. Lentement, il descendit sa main vers sa vision. Des chaînes? L'Édrique les a secoués une fois. Ils se sont branlés. Il les a encore secoués. Ils ont dansé à un air rouillé. Les chaînes étaient vraiment bien, un rapide regard vers le bas a révélé qu'il y avait plus de chaînes autour de ses chevilles, ou, ce qui était autrefois des chaînes. Il semblait à un moment donné que les liens s'étaient rompus, lui accordant la liberté d'accès, mais Edoric ne se souvenait pas pourquoi il avait des chaînes sur lui pour commencer. Alors Soemthind tira sa main vers son cou. Il a avalé dur comme sa main tremblante traçait une longue, méchante et grincheuse cicatrice sur son cou avec un doigt horrifié. Qu'est-ce que l'enfer s'est passé? Qu'est-ce que j'ai fait? - C'est quoi, ça? Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? C'est... Edoric a levé les yeux. Sa peau blanchie est devenue blanche une fois de plus comme l'image d'une chose brûlée dans ses yeux. C'était comme un intestin géant et cancéreux. Sa masse bouillante à peine contenue par les chaînes, les crochets et les tuyaux qui l'ont percé et tenu alof. Des tumeurs glamour sur son dessous semblaient respirer comme s'ils étaient vivants, un léger hurlement de vent à travers la chair enflammée avait l'air de hurler dans la douleur aux nombreuses coupures, gazes et lacérations partout dessus. Certains d'entre eux avaient renversé... quelque chose sur Edoric. Il tremblait de peur et de dégoût quand il glisseait dans son dos, c'était comme du sang... mais ch-chuunker... et g-g-gl-loopier... et s-s-s-slimierrrr... et... mon-mo-mo-m-monstrueux... *CRAQUE* L'œdorique s'est finalement brisé alors que sa respiration de l'air mort remplissait ses poumons non morts, alors que son hyperventaliation paniquée l'a forcé à dépasser son réflexe de gag. En s'emparant de la tête et en se fronçant, en se balançant, l'Édrique cria.AAAaaaAAHHHHHhhAAaaaaHhhhaAaaAAAA!!!!!!Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?

| The Merchant | Edoric Sikth Mid to Late Twenties Making a living off of trade and caravaning, Edoric has quite a sturdy, enduring build despite his otherwise ordinary looking frame. Nearing six-feet, he often has an air of assurance and professionalism about him, not doubt a facade he's had to wear for his line of work that has stuck. However, he doesn't exactly have an imposing figure, one that can stand out no doubt, but not one that could exactly strong arm someone. With an almost noble-like stance to his posture, his emerald eyes sit like jewels in a weathered face along with a tuff of silvery hair, Edoric sometimes radiates confidence, if not cockiness. Since his rebirth, he's found the additions of of broken chains around his wrists and ankles as well as quite the nasty scar around his neck. Edoric is almost child-like in a way, always curious and always yearning for a next adventure to weave into one of his many tales he loves to tells. Perhaps it was this wanderlust that got him killed in the first place. He likes to pretend to be as brave an courageous as the noble knights of fairytales are, but is still scared of such things as the dark and heights. Some might dare say he tends to be hypocritical. One should not confuse his youth-like nature for immaturity or stupidity however; Edoric's business aptitude as a merchant is a thing of itself, spilling over and turning him to be greedy and hoarding at times. At such times he can exist some pretty extreme pragmatism that focuses on his survival and fortunes. That said, he does have a charitable side to him and is willing to share, sometimes even for free. Merchant of Sikth - Like many of his home kingdom, Edoric's ability to work with numbers and coin is only matched by his greed. Likewise, he is no stranger to shadier dealings or underhand tactics, as they say in Sikth after all, "the coin must be earned through any means". Explorer's Endurance - Through many a travels through many a lands and environments, Edoric's stamina and endurance is easily able to match that of professional soldiers and knights even though he has little professional training in such areas. It also keep him quick on his feet for when jumping across unstable stones and logs atop a cliff waterfall are the only way forward. Blunted Broadsword - A once beautiful and sharp sword of brass and black leather with a blade that shone like sliver, now is chipped and dull and in desperate need of a touch up. As such, Edoric's only weapon cannot even be used as the sword it was made to be but instead acts more like a two handed club thanks to its hard sheath. Merchant Knapsack - Every good merchant knows that even if you have a pack animal or ship, you should always have a personal bag. Unfortuantely, it seems that whatever Edoric had been carrying has long since been lost, looted or misplaced leaving him with little more than dust and rubbish. Sikth Merchant Seal - A golden seal with delicate silver and gem given to those associated with one of Sikth's many trade companies or guilds and has seen great success. Edoric's appears to once been a sign of his aptitude but like so much of his belongings in their current state, is faded and worn, its regal nature long gone as only flakes of gold remain, revealing its true nature of stone. Mythic Movement - Perhaps a blessing of the Goddess of Aerya, Edoric's gift is one based in the art of movement. His body sometimes exhibits the rare and strange trait of ignoring the laws of physics or even his own body as he can run on walls, leap great distances, zip through halls and clamber up walls faster than even rangers with their tools. Of course his is not without its limited duration, however, Edoric seems to be able to sometimes draw upon a weaker version of this power effectively letting him "quick step".

Rire... c'était rire qu'elle a entendu pour la dernière fois. Il a commencé comme un bas écrasement et s'est monté à un soufflet tout-en-tout. Le sentiment de son corps de devenir engourdi comme une lame solide l'a fait passer à travers elle, déchirant la chair et bris d'os, luttant pour être enlevé. Rire, ce rire violent... maniaque était toujours présent alors que sa vision commençait à noircir. Pourtant... avant que toute la vie ne la quitte comme elle le savait, ce rire... a changé? Ça avait l'air plus erratique... d'entrer dans... des obsèques? Enfin, cela n'a pas d'importance. L'obscurité l'avait prise et le monde autour a été avalé par l'obscurité obscurcissant sa vision... et puis... Elle a entendu un cri. Ce cri a ébranlé ses sens. Une bouffée l'a échappée, seulement pour être remplacée par une toux, alors que l'ancien liquide a évacué ses poumons presque éparpillés. Elle a lutté pour se lever, sa vision floue et un son retentissant dans ses oreilles. En fin de compte, elle n'a réussi qu'à se mettre à quatre pattes, s'appuyant sur ses coudes alors qu'elle continuait à tousser, le liquide rouge pourri s'échappant de sa bouche et de ses narines pendant qu'elle s'évanouissait pour prendre l'air. Il lui a fallu un peu pour que sa vision s'éclaircisse, toujours si légèrement, juste assez pour peindre une image de son environnement. Un endroit horrible... «Par tous les Dieux! Une autre escroquerie l'a échappée avec ces pensées. Elle était à genoux, regardant autour de cet endroit où elle s'est retrouvée. Un endroit sombre avec à peine assez de lumière pour voir, le sol était humide avec un fluide mucky d'une coloration rouge malade. C'est la consistance qui l'a fait comprendre que c'était... quelque chose d'autre que de l'eau. Autour d'elle n'étaient que de vieux corps sans vie, tous rivés vers le haut et en milieu de décomposition. Il s'agissait d'un endroit où aucune vie n'était la bienvenue, car même les argots ne semblent pas prospérer sur les énormes tas de cadavres autour. Instinctivement, elle regardait vers le haut, ses yeux incolores s'élargissant dans l'horreur comme elle voyait... elle ne pouvait même pas décrire ce que c'était. Une sorte de monstruosité gigantesque et charnue, poussant et serrant de la cellule par un certain nombre de grandes chaînes et crochets qui perforaient sa surface bulbeuse. Le liquide puant semble provenir de ce... truc, en cascade de quelques endroits où il semblait que les crochets causaient trop grande d'une entaille. La simple vision d'une telle abomination était suffisante pour briser son esprit. Elle pouvait sentir son corps trembler alors qu'elle se tenait là, son regard attaché à cette créature, incapable de bouger. Un whimper l'a presque échappée alors qu'un autre coup de toux l'a brisée dans ses sens. Toujours alarmée par la vue de ce truc, elle a lutté pour s'élever jusqu'à ses pieds. La surface de sloshy n'a pas facilité la tâche et la sensation encore semi-numbe dans ses muscles n'a fait que la rendre beaucoup plus difficile. Elle a lutté pour maintenir son équilibre, bon sang tout, il semblait que ses muscles atrophiaient en raison d'un temps prolongé d'inactivité. Le poids familier de son armure également pesé sur elle, mais ce fardeau est venu avec une étrange sensation de confort, le confort de quelque chose à laquelle elle était bien habituée. Son côté gauche se sentait beaucoup plus lourd, en regardant elle pouvait voir que ce n'était pas seulement en raison du manque flagrant d'armure sur son bras droit, mais c'était aussi parce que sa main gauche était serrée à un bouclier battu. L'ombre d'un sourire rampait sur son visage, c'était étrangement réconfortant de savoir qu'elle tenait son bouclier tout-familiaire même... même dedans. Ça l'a frappée. Son esprit courut, luttant pour se rappeler les derniers instants avant qu'elle ne se évanouisse. Un frisson s'est abattu sur sa colonne vertébrale et ses genoux ont commencé à trembler en arrivant à la même conclusion. Elle, Lyanna, était morte. Pire encore, elle s'est trouvée dans un endroit aussi... horrible. C'était l'après-vie? Était-ce l'endroit où les âmes méchantes sont venues et attendaient le châtiment? Non.. Non.. ça ne pourrait pas être... Un cri l'a encore frappé à la réalité. C'était le même cri qu'elle a entendu quand elle s'est réveillée. Elle a rapidement tourné la tête, essayant de distinguer la source, l'orge faisant ce qui ressemblait à quelqu'un enroulé les mains sur la tête. Nègre ou non, son instinct l'a forcée à courir avec des pieds lourds, son armure ou ce qu'il en restait, claquant alors qu'elle traversait le liquide boueux et passant devant un certain nombre de cadavres allongés autour. Elle a atteint la personne, faisant leurs traits plus clairement. C'était un homme, avec des cheveux sales, mais brillants. Sa tenue a peut-être été une fois de belle fabrication, mais tout comme leur propriétaire, ils étaient maintenant pires pour l'usure, une série de chaînes autour de ses poignets et chevilles a complété son visage. D'une main ferme, Lyanna secoua l'homme, le forçant à se tourner et à lui faire face. - Calmez-vous, monsieur. Ce n'est pas le moment de perdre la tête, levez-vous! Le ton et les mots sont ressortis par l'instinct pur. Elle parlait comme un soldat... C'était un soldat... d'une sorte. De... de Badarium... n'est-ce pas? Oui... Oui. Elle s'appelait Lyanna et c'était un soldat... un garde! Un gardien de Badarium. Les souvenirs lui revenaient lentement, pièce par pièce. Pourtant, il restait encore beaucoup de choses dans le brouillard. Pour l'instant, elle se contentait de savoir qui elle était et... comment elle est apparemment morte. Son regard s'est tourné vers son voisinage. Elle n'était pas seule. Quelques cadavres d'une pile voisine s'étaient renversés dans la flaque de liquide rouge. Il y avait quelqu'un d'autre là-bas... mais qui... ou quoi? Craignant le pire, Lyanna a atteint pour son épée, une sensation de soulagement lava sur elle alors qu'elle sentait la poignée de son côté... mais il a été suivi de déception quand elle a découvert que l'épée était complètement cassée en deux. Peu importe, c'était mieux que de se battre à mains vides et elle avait toujours son bouclier. Entre la présence inconnue à proximité et l'homme effrayé derrière elle, Lyanna adopte une position de combat défensive et souffle. Qui que ce soit, montre-toi! Tout de suite!

|The Shield Maiden| Lyanna Badarium Late twenties to early thirties People of Badarium were often graced with elegant beauty, delicate features and voluptuous bodies. Lyanna was, for the most part, no exception from the rule. With her soft, pale skin, wavy black hair, comely features and auburn eyes, she certainly caught the gazes of many a man and even a few women, though most were unintentional. However, what one would see at first sight was not all true, for underneath her armor, this 1.71m tall woman would boast a muscular body which contrasted with her feminine curves, the result of hard physical training which also granted her a physical strength comparable with the toughest of men, an aspect which took many by utter surprise due to her appearance. Her rebirth did deteriorate her visage, her skin adopting a shade of grey, her eyes loosing most of their shine and color, and there was also a long, thin gash now ever present on her torso, reaching from her bellybutton and straight upwards stopping just below her collarbone. Courageous, level-headed and loyal to a fault, Lyanna was often commended for these traits by her liege Lord, who more often than not also praised her beauty but she always paid no mind to that, dedicated to serving him loyally and competently as the captain of his personal guard and nothing more. That is to say, she was not always sour and dour, she felt most comfortable when surrounded by her fellow soldiers, the sense of camaraderie that was created through her leadership made them seem like family, the only real family she ever had. Of course, rumors travel far and wide in the Kindom of Badarium and there was much discussion of the female guard captain who became ‘awfully close’ with her subordinates, yet just like the flirtatious intentions of her liege Lord, Lyanna paid no mind to such talk. If the common folk felt secure enough from other dangers that they were able to speak of such things, among others, then it meant she was doing her job properly and that was good enough for her. Shield Master – Lyanna is a skilled warrior, virtually unmatched with a shield in hand. This style of combat is one that requires a strong arm and iron determination, both of which Lyanna possesses in spades, capable of anticipating and blocking attacks only to retaliate with devastating force. Bravery – Fighting in the front line is no task for those faint of heart, Lyanna always keeping an uncanny cool temper even in the face of the most horrific of adversaries. Once she has set a defensive line, she will not yield until her last breath has been given, proving time and again that she will not be easily distraught. Hearty Constitution – Unlike the vast majority of women from her land, Lyanna would spend most of her time undertaking grueling physical training, pushing her body to the limit and overcoming it. With a hard back, iron stomach and a strong arm, Lyanna could not be easily toppled and could take down men twice her size. Damaged Plate Armor – This type of armor is the very symbol of a strong and noble knight, offering great protection while sacrificing mobility. This one, however, has seen better days as the breastplate is battered and broken, missing its upper left side as well as its gorget and right spaulder. Along with that, the entire plating of the right arm seems to be missing, the only thing offering protection being the scalemail shirt underneath which reaches just before the elbow, leaving the left forearm completely exposed. The left side of the armor, the chausses and steel-toed boots are faring no better, being battered and worn but at least they are still there. Worn Heather Shield – A metal shield which offers great protection as well as being light enough to maneuver by a skilled wielder. Time has not been kind to it, being bent, battered and worn to such an extent that even the once proud crest on its surface has become faded and unrecognizable. Broken Arming Sword– The standard issue one-handed sword wielded by any warrior who boasts competence in combat. That is what it once was before whatever unfortunate events rendered it in this state, the blade being dull and broken in half, making it quite worthless. However, ‘near worthless’ trumps ‘empty handed’. Unnatural Might – Since her rebirth, Lyanna has discovered that she possesses an odd, unknown power which triggers, apparently, randomly. This power would manifests itself under the form of many wisps of crimson smoke emanating from her body along with the color(or current lack of color) of her eyes turning to a deep, vibrant red. The effects resulting in a great adrenaline surge coursing through her, removing any sign and sensation of fatigue from her body and increasing her physical strength tenfold, allowing her to shrug off all but the most devastating of blows while delivering unfathomable punishment. This effect does not last long, however, nor can Lyanna ‘trigger’ it on her own. Could this strange power be a gift from the Gods… or something else entirely?

Frei Frei ne pouvait pas supporter une douleur aussi profonde que ce qui frappait le visage de l'homme devant elle. Il était jeune, fragile, et même si elle s'agenouillait, il n'a réussi qu'à mettre à niveau ses yeux fantomatiques avec les siens. À travers toutes ses questions, elle s'est trouvée la plus désireuse de lui demander ce qui n'allait pas, s'il avait besoin d'aide, mais a trouvé sa blessure à la gorge serrée et peu disposée à s'y conformer. Il a brossé de longs cheveux de chêne à partir de son visage, révélant des joues lacrymogènes qui ont attiré son attention sur le fait que les siennes étaient aussi mouillées. Avant de se demander pourquoi ils pleuraient, il parlait, sa voix correspondait à son être faible et triste. Il a dit: «Je t'aimais, Frei, et bien qu'elle ne puisse pas comprendre pourquoi, elle a senti son cœur brisé. Mais un rugissement a attiré son attention, non pas d'une bête, mais des hommes. Elle regarda de côté dans le vide incertain, et vit des centaines et des centaines de personnes, toutes sans visage, mais leurs yeux haineux déchirèrent des trous en elle. Leurs applaudissements et leurs cris étaient d'horribles amalgames d'hommes et de femmes, d'enfants et d'aînés, et elle sentait une profonde peur s'enraciner en elle. Elle voulait s'enfuir, mais elle n'a pas eu le temps. Ses mains étaient serrées par les poignets, la constriction à sa gorge devenait une attache qui ne la laissait pas sortir de la scène qu'elle ne voyait pas mais savait néanmoins qu'elle se tenait debout. Enfin, elle tombait. Elle s'est réveillée à crier, pas la sienne, pas la voix du jeune homme ni aucune de la foule, mais nouveau et distinct. Vaguely elle pouvait entendre des voix ailleurs, mais ils ont été noyés par les cris, qui lui-même a pris un pas derrière son propre désarroi. D'abord, elle a pris un souffle, entonné dans des courants d'air réguliers si légers qui seuls étaient suffisants pour lui faire prendre conscience de son environnement. Elle était sur le dos à une pente, sur ce qu'elle n'était pas sûr, mais regardant vers le haut, elle était beaucoup plus préoccupée par ce qui pendait au-dessus. La chose était une terreur, vivante ou inanimée, avec sa forme pulsante et frémissante accrochée aux crochets par la chair tendue. L'instinct de courir une fois de plus s'empara, mais où dans le vide elle était empêchée par des attaches invisibles, dans le monde éveillé ses contraintes étaient beaucoup plus viscérales. En essayant simplement de s'asseoir, on lui a envoyé des douleurs dans la colonne vertébrale, comme si elle était tordue et luttant pour se réaligner. Tout son corps se sentait lourd, qui, en regardant l'armure l'encaissant du cou vers le bas, avait du sens, bien qu'il n'apportât aucun réconfort à la douleur dans ses articulations. Il y avait une douleur brève, quoique aiguë centrée sur sa poitrine, mais elle a été lavée par la panique soudaine de l'étouffement. Il est vite devenu évident que l'air qu'elle avait pris il y a quelques instants avait bien réussi à la ramener à ses sens, mais n'était pas assez pour soutenir son diaphragme fraîchement chargé. Sans l'énergie encore à s'asseoir, elle réussit plutôt à se rouler sur son estomac, en venant faire face à l'enchevêtrement froid et palpitant de membres qui avait été son repos. C'était un choc, mais une qu'elle a poussée dans le fond de son esprit avec les autres. Ses bottes ont trouvé l'achat dans la pile de corps, assez pour se vanter pour que ses mains soient libres de travailler à son cou. Au début, elle pensait que l'armure pouvait être incrustée sur elle, mais ses doigts ne tournaient pas autour du métal, mais de la corde. Désespérement, elle s'y balançait à l'avant et au côté en vain, coulissant à la main de plus en plus en arrière jusqu'à ce qu'ils trouvent la série de nœuds le tenant ensemble. C'était alors que son corps s'éloignait d'elle, se distanciant de son esprit hystérique et agissant hors de la mémoire musculaire. Avec une expertise pratique, elle ne pouvait qu'espérer se souvenir assez longtemps pour se poser des questions, elle laissa la main sur sa gorge, juste assez pour permettre une pleine, bonne gaspille. Pendant un moment, elle se laissa se détendre, se précipitant dans l'air sans esprit à sa puanteur fétide et à son goût aigre. Elle garda les yeux fermés, tant de l'épuisement que du désir de ne pas voir le monticule morbide sous elle alors que son bref répit s'arrêtait. Elle savait, quoi qu'il se passe, qu'elle ne pouvait pas rester, et surtout que quelqu'un d'autre ici avec elle avait besoin d'aide. Shakily elle s'est mise aux pieds, et a senti un poids supplémentaire sur son côté. Elle a vu une épée dans sa gaine, s'élançant de sa ceinture par une seule ceinture en cuir effilée. Il n'a pas fallu beaucoup d'efforts pour l'arracher, et quand elle a trouvé avec un peu de soulagement que l'arme n'était pas très lourde du tout. En fait, avec son poids, elle doutait beaucoup au-dessus de la garde était présente, mais un pouce ou deux d'acier était mieux que pas d'acier du tout. Cela dit, elle ne l'a pas dessiné, et a plutôt choisi de vent la sangle en cuir autour du garde et gaine pour la garder fermée. S'il y avait quelqu'un d'autre ici avec elle, elle ne voulait pas s'approcher d'eux portant une lame. Les voix à proximité ont repris, et au-dessus de la crête des corps, elle pensait qu'elle pouvait juste faire le sommet de la tête de quelqu'un. Ils pourraient sûrement la voir aussi, regardant autour des cadavres, Frei vit qu'elle était loin et loin plus grande que la plupart d'entre eux. Savoir qu'elle n'était pas seule était un soulagement pour le moins, mais avant son propre réconfort, elle devait assurer la leur, ou du moins leur sécurité. Une violente fissure et une toux ont paralysé sa voix et l'ont envoyée au genou. Elle a recollé un liquide vil, mais ne l'a épargné qu'un moment de préoccupation avant de se repousser. Il n'y avait plus de temps pour être lent, la sienne n'était pas la seule vie en danger. Bonjour?Elle a appelé, heureuse d'entendre sa voix forte et sans entrave. J'arrive! N'ayez pas peur, je ne vous ferai pas de mal, je vous le promets! Avec cela, elle a commencé un voyage inégal mais certain sur les morts, faisant son chemin vers ce qu'elle commençait à connaître comme les autres, pluriel. Bien, il y avait de la sécurité en nombre, de la solidarité qui pouvait tous les faire sortir d'ici vivants. Ou du moins, aussi proche de la vie que possible. Il ne s'agit pas d'une question qu'elle souhaite aborder pour le moment.

| The Merciful | Frei Draethir 25 Frei’s armor –or at least what remains of it– is dark as pitch where it isn’t scuffed, and lined by a brilliantly unmarred red. It conceals a warrior’s frame, lean muscle combating her feminine figure and habit of hunching. Even so she’s well above average height, and stands with a naturally imposing posture. Though her face holds an inherent softness, and though she is not often one to frown, it also carries a great potential for fury. Her eyes are a burning hue, and can be challenging to meet even on amicable terms. Since her rebirth, a noose with a frayed-off end remains wrapped ‘round her neck, tucked beneath her gorget. Contrary to both her appearance and land of origin, Frei is a gentle and compassionate woman who abhors violence against other people. In fact, all she seems to want to do is protect them, either from themselves through a well-meaning if not overtly idealistic diplomacy, or from the creatures infesting the world through vindicated action. She enjoys talking to people, hearing their stories, listening to their opinions and woes in the hopes that she can offer help, or at least the comfort of company in their terrible world. However, with reasoning unbeknownst to her, she suffers from infrequent yet potent flashes of anger. These thoughts feel as alien to Frei as they do revolting. Despite what she may like to believe, Frei’s true talents lie in the art of combat. She’s swift even in her armor, and handles the sword with practiced expertise. She does not, however, have experience fighting the creatures brought on by the Inalienable Dreamless, a skillset she would much rather possess over the ability to fight people. –Broken Greatsword– With a tight, black-leather hilt, ornate –if still nicked– guard, and ruby pommel, it’s easy to believe that this sword might have once been a thing of beauty and status. However the wide blade, an equally umbral color, is missing its top third, snapped off at an edge. An engraving near the base reads “Mercy”. –Draethir Armor– While missing a spaulder, a gauntlet, and its helmet, the sleek-fitted armor does its job well. Its Black bulk and red lining were once iconic to the Dominion of Draethir, a fact now either lost to Frei, or willfully ignored. –Ember Veins– Frei’s blood is passively warmer than natural, to no noticeable defect. When spilt however, the temperature spikes higher, an effect to which she is immune. At this point, barring the fickle nature of such Gifts, the blood can ignite to a multitude of uses, such as the imbuing of weapons with a long-lasting fire effect.

Qui suis-je? Où suis-je? Les sourcils de la femme aux cheveux roses se rétrécissaient alors qu'elle gardait l'épée dans une position défensive, sans fin dans sa détermination en raison du fait que sa rencontre dans cette fosse pouvait mal tourner. Elle ne connaissait ni cet homme ni les autres qui s'éveillaient ni leurs intentions, il n'y avait donc aucun moyen de savoir qui était ami ou ennemi. Elle a pris un souffle léger alors que l'homme s'approchait d'elle tandis que d'autres continuaient à se frotter du tas de cadavres à travers le sol de pierre; l'homme regardait dans sa direction avec un regard inquiétant avant de lui appeler avec des questions qui ont été émises comme des demandes; un sentiment qu'elle se sentait familier pour des raisons qu'elle pouvait à peine se rappeler. Quant à ses questions, de son point de vue, elles semblaient assez bonnes pour être posées – la connaissance de leur nouvel emplacement et l'identité des autres êtres vivants. Cependant, au moment où elle n'avait pas tout à fait de réponses pour lui alors qu'elle essayait de revenir dans ce qu'elle pouvait se rappeler; un fait qui était difficile étant donné que ses sens ne cessaient de se faire barrier par ce qu'elle sentait tout autour d'elle. La femme a pensé dur alors qu'elle continuait à pêcher à travers ses pensées. La dernière chose dont elle se souvenait, c'était la douleur d'un maul qui lui frappait la poitrine... et le claquage d'un pied ennemi sur son cou alors qu'elle suffoquait sur son propre sang. Elle était... morte, n'est-ce pas? Une peur anxieuse remplit son esprit alors qu'elle se le rappelait et où elle finit par avoir l'air d'une sorte de fosse de cadavres. Si ses souvenirs étaient vrais, alors il était probable qu'elle ait été jetée dans cette fosse? Mais pourquoi s'est-elle réveillée? Pourquoi a-t-elle été ressuscitée? La pensée des réveils n'était rien de nouveau pour autant qu'elle se souvienne de l'existence d'artefacts divins puissants; mais l'endroit où elle se trouvait n'était pas un temple de guérison, mais un laboratoire de nécromance maudit. C'était une présomption, bien sûr; mais qu'est-ce que cela pouvait être d'autre? Ça n'a pas d'importance en ce moment. Elle a pris un autre souffle léger. Comme elle a creusé plus profondément dans ses pensées pour plus d'informations. Elle s'appelait Syrenia, un ancien ajustement du mot "Siren". Le nom était... d'Iliandur. Non, elle venait d'Iliandur. Le pays des chevaliers cléricaux, dont elle était membre, et les apôtres d'une trinité de dieux – une mère et deux fils. Elle se souvint que le dieu mère s'appelait Lyriel, un fait qu'elle sauta au réveil, de sorte que cela devait être sa déesse patronne. Mais les deux autres étaient importants. Aegis, le Protecteur. Helstar, le juge. Alors qu'il était bon qu'elle se souvienne beaucoup de cela, cet homme ne demandait pas d'informations théologiques. Elle l'a regardé en arrière et a dégagé sa voix des nerfs. Elle pouvait lui dire ce qu'elle savait conformément à ses questions; elle espérait que ce serait satisfaisant. Mais avant qu'elle ne puisse répondre à un grand cri d'un autre individu les a interrompus. Syrenia a regardé à l'origine de la voix avant de regarder en arrière l'homme dans un moment rapide. Je ne sais pas où nous sommes... je ne me souviens de rien de tel. Je n'ai jamais entendu parler de quelque chose comme où nous en sommes.. Quant à mon nom? Mon nom est Syrenia— de Iliandur. Il y a eu une pause. Qui êtes-vous?

| The Apostle | Syrenia Iliandur Early Twenties Syrenia is a descendant of Iliandur, although which dynastic line is particularly unknown due to the effects of her rebirth. With flowing pink-colored hair and blue eyes, Syrenia has a naturally soft appearance; though she is not as petite as she appears. Standing at 5’3”, Syrenia is shorter than most considering the average height of a woman of Iliandur was nearly three or so inches greater. In her time as a clerical knight of Iliandur the training Syrenia was forced to endure has given her a physical conditioning that has shaped her physique to be durable yet flexible, though her training like many others did not block her from an early demise. Whilst Syrenia was a girl of faith, she was also a daughter of a scientist thus her viewpoint isn’t as nearly as naively optimistic as some of her peers were. This background taught her to be practical in her life and in her views, though that practicality did not stop her from being killed in the vicious way that she was. However, practicality did not impede her from the religious ideology that was ingrained within her nor did it remove her of her compassion or sincerity for others. Whilst she might be quick to point out that something is impractical or unwise, it will not always stop her from acting; though the new world she will experience might test those very views. Skilled Archer — The clerical knights of Iliandur were capable archers as well as swordsmen and priests. During her lifetime preceding the Inalienable Dreamless Syrenia was trained as an inquisitor; the formal title given to apostles of the Grand Cleric and guardians of peace. Apostle – As part of her training as a clerical knight Syrenia was taught how to channel the energies from holy relics to use minor holy magic with such as small blessings, wards, and other spells. Without an artifact Syrenia lacks something to draw from and even with her gift of rebirth she lacks the knowledge to draw from her own soul. Daughter of an Alchemist – Whilst she remembers little with the rebirth process, Syrenia was the daughter of an alchemist and was taught since childhood about the process of potion-making and general herbalism for the benefit of others. This also grants her a minor knowledge about toxicology if and when it comes back to her. Inquistor's Quiver — Stripped of her bow, Syrenia retains her quiver though it has been stripped of all of her arrows. Clerical Knight's Armor — Syrenia’s armor as a clerical knight was crafted for a mobile fighter that could allow quick movement with limited but sufficient protection. However much of it has been lost to time and by the thieving hands of fallen humanity. What remains of her armor has been restored from the decay of time; but it is apparent that she is missing a shoulder spaulder. The cloth underneath the armor remains though its color has faded. Satchel – With her backpack stolen, it is a surprising relief that Syrenia has anything to hold scattered potions, coin, and objects at all. A small holding capacity, but it is better than nothing. Holy Conduit — Perhaps as a nod to her origins as a clerical knight, Syrenia has been gifted with the holy energies of Helstar & Aegis that drown her soul in potent holy magic. The abilities of this gift are varied but unknown to her; allowing herself to serve as a divine conduit the purity of her soul can heal, cure, or revive and perhaps purify or smite.

XEGA Cet endroit était damné, pour être sûr. Un cri retentit dans toute la caverne. D'autres se déplaçaient parmi les cadavres. Ont-ils tous regagné la vie aussi? Non... pour l'instant, il semblerait que seulement quelques-uns des morts qui ont rempli cet endroit se levaient à nouveau. Pourtant, pour renaître avec toutes ses facultés intactes, aucune trace des blessures qui avaient précédé sa mort... quelle puissante nécromance, si c'était bien ce que c'était qui les avait rappelés d'au-delà de la tombe. Xega regarda autour de la chambre avant que la femme ne lui réponde. Elle a lâché la gorge avant de parler, et a parlé calmement. Elle n'avait donc pas l'intention de la violence avec cette lame, semble-t-il. "Je n'ai aucune idée où nous sommes... Je ne me souviens de rien de tel. Je n'ai jamais entendu parler de quelque chose comme là où nous en sommes. Quant à mon nom? Mon nom est Syrenia... d'Iliandur. Qui êtes-vous?" "Je suis..." Il s'est arrêté. C'est Xega? C'était son nom? Pourquoi n'était-il pas sûr? D'où venait-il? Iliandur? C'est pas vrai. Il ne savait pas où se trouvait ce pays, ou si c'était un pays, mais il savait qu'il ne venait pas de là, d'une façon ou d'une autre. "Je suis Xega. Je suis... ou peut-être était... un praticien de l'Arcane. Je suis de..." Finalement la parole lui est venue. "Xir. Je suis Xega de Xir." Le dire avec plus d'emphase lui a donné confiance. Oui. Il venait d'un endroit appelé Xir, une nation de mages. Iliandur, c'était un autre pays, célèbre pour ses chevaliers cléricaux. Peut-être cette femme était-elle l'une d'entre elles, à en juger par son état vestimentaire et la familiarité avec laquelle elle tenait l'arme. Qui que ce soit, montre-toi! Une autre voix retentit, le ton d'une autre femme. Xega a tourné vers le bruit avec un regard de consternation. Bien qu'il y ait eu des trous dans sa mémoire, sa personnalité était très intacte, et il ne serait pas ordonné. "Bonjour?" Une autre nouvelle voix, celle-là moins sûre d'elle-même. Et une autre femme. Xega a sourcillé un sourcil. "Je suis en train de venir! N'ayez pas peur, je ne vous ferai pas de mal, je vous le promets! "On aurait l'air d'avoir toute la foule." Il a dit à Syrenia d'Iliandur. La femme qui avait parlé en dernier se dirigeait dans leur direction, et maintenant que Xega la regardait, elle aussi semblait une sorte de guerrierne. Son armure avait été battue et corrodée par le temps, des morceaux volés, mais Xega sentit la coloration frapper un accord avec lui d'une manière ou d'une autre. Ils étaient probablement les couleurs de sa patrie. Cette lueur de mémoire a dit à Xega ce qu'il avait déjà commencé à soupçonner. Il est peut-être dans un nouvel endroit, mais ses anciens souvenirs étaient très intacts. Ils étaient simplement... cachés... de lui pour le moment. Il avait juste besoin de trouver quelque chose pour les déclencher, pour les restaurer. En s'adressant à ces gens, en apprenant ce qu'ils savaient, ils y contribueraient probablement. Comme trouver son personnel et ses foyers. Il savait au moins, au fond de son cœur, ce qu'il était, un magi le plus prestigieux. Déjà, il pouvait sentir à nouveau l'Arcane Stream, une sensation qui avait envie de respirer pour la première fois après avoir failli se noyer. Il a supposé que le premier souffle qu'il avait pris sur son réveil aurait pu sentir comme cela aussi, si ce n'était pour la douleur agonisante qui est venu avec elle. "Mlle Syrenia, si vous voulez saluer notre nouveau venu," il a hurlé vers l'autre femme en armure, "Je m'adresserai... aux autres." Se tournant sur son talon - son talon réel, comme il semblait qu'un voleur de tombe avait volé ses bottes et maintenant il était pieds nus, ce qui lui faisait grimace - il marchait autour de la pile de cadavres, lui donnant une couchette large et couvrant son nez avec sa manche contre la puanteur. Il a fait de son mieux pour ne pas le regarder; il ne se considérait pas faible d'esprit ni d'estomac, mais ce carnage était trop pour qu'un individu sain d'esprit en soit témoin. Bientôt, il en vit deux plus fraîchement ressuscités : une femme aux yeux féroces, bien que sa stature ne lui plaise pas du tout, et un homme dont les traits étaient presque aussi délicats que ceux de Xega. L'homme était la source des cris, alors qu'il s'écriait sur le sol. Était-il encore dans les affres du réveil, ou avait-il simplement été poussé à l'hystérie par les horreurs qui l'entouraient? "Je, Xega de Xir, daigne me montrer." il a dit à la femme, en plaçant une main sur sa poitrine. Puis il lui fit un geste, ses yeux se rétrécissant. "Maintenant, nommez votre propre moi."

| The Magus | Xega Xir Early Twenties Xega, as a studious mage of one of the most prestigious academies of Xir--though he can't remember which one--has the frail form one would associate with such. At a height of five feet and eleven inches, he stands just short of the standard many might consider "manly," but then most mages weren't concerned with such matters of primitive brawn. He barely weighs one hundred and forty pounds, and has woman-like features especially about his face and slender, nimble fingers. Currently, immediately after his Rebirth, his eyes bear deep lines beneath them and his cheeks are sunken; his illustrious, deep purple hair is now messy and looks as if it hadn't been washed in days. Xega is self-centered and arrogant, and considers himself an intellectual only concerned with his pursuits of arcane mystery. He finds such things as physical strength and athleticism to be beneath him, and considers those who would employ such against him to be barbarians--and yet, like any man of the mind, he finds himself infuriatingly helpless against such overpowering brawn. Xega cannot stand not knowing the answer to a question, and will maddeningly seek a solution with relentless zeal. His excitement can be contagious, as despite his normal introversion, if he can connect with someone about his studies he becomes much more personable. Skilled Magician - Xega was a graduate student of his academy, pursuing research and conducting experiments alongside some of the finest minds of Xir. As such, his command of the arcane arts is considerably mighty. Fulgurmancy - Xega's preferred forms of battlecraft, the magics of conflict, involves the use of controlled lightning. With it he can produce bolts or streams of white hot lightning to electrocute and scorch his enemies. The short lived nature of lightning, however, makes it hard to use defensively or to maintain a spell for long periods. Sharp Mind - As one who has researched and studied for such a large portion of his life, and being naturally intelligent and inquisitive, Xega is equipped to handle many a mystery or mental puzzle with relative ease. Wizard's Staff - A hardwood staff of about six feet, its last third of length seemingly naturally grown into the shape of a plaited braid. It curls slightly, forming a hook onto which to attach Xega's magus foci. The staff itself merely provides a means of gesture and focus, as well as a last line of defense. Runes are etched into its surface, their protective wards being the only thing that kept the staff from being stolen from his corpse. Crystal Lantern - This shining brass lantern holds within it a crystal of condense arcane power, which serves as a collector of ambient magical energies and a focus for Xega to use to reduce the strain on himself when channeling the Arcane Stream. Its magics are bonded specifically to Xega himself, making it useless to anyone else, and some of the same runes that protected the staff protected it as well. Book Satchel - Once, this satchel held Xega's tomes of sorcery. They have been looted from his former corpse, however, all but one--a basic textbook that was already far outdated in Xega's own time, and is now so dry rotted and yellowed as to be practically illegible. Runesight - A gift that can only be from Arcanus himself, Xega will find that at certain times magical runes appear within the depths of his black pupils, which dilate to a much larger size as if engulfing a void. These runes confer upon him powerful magic sight, granting him visions of "true nature," which sometimes include not just what something truly "is," but perhaps, if the target of his sight is now broken, a vision of what it "once was." It cannot be activated by Xega's own will as of yet, though he struggles to understand it and use it as he would all his other magics. A fitting power, for one whose life is driven by endless thirst for knowledge.

Il y avait de la musique. Il y avait toujours de la musique, oh comment elle s'est apaisée, comme elle a plu à l'oreille. Quelqu'un aimait la musique, les notes lilantes et les voix divines d'un entraîné dans l'art de la performance - si haut et si fort que le verre sur les tables vibrait juste assez pour être impressionnant plutôt qu'un désordre dans la fabrication. Même alors il y avait de la musique, bien que la mélodie semblait perdue, oubliée, écartée; mais pas seulement de la musique, il y avait quelque chose d'autre tout aussi agréable. Chaleur. Chaleureux. Elle souriait, n'est-ce pas? C'est peut-être la seule fois qu'elle le voulait vraiment? Des lumières bleues rayonnant leurs rayons sur elle, apportant un confort qui s'est mélangé avec les tons doux de cette musique douce; une sérénade jouée juste pour ses oreilles. C'était le paradis? Mon Dieu? Avait-elle été si bénie, avec de tels sons de saccharine et un ventre chaud? Mais toujours la musique s'arrête, la voix chantante est remplacée par des chuchotements houleux et un cri shrill qui n'était pas familier. La chaleur est revenue mais pas dans son ventre, mais sa bouche comme ces lumières bleues brûlent plus lumineux avant que le seul son ne s'atténue à rien. Cette chaleur n'a apporté aucun réconfort, mais il y avait quelque chose à ce sujet... quelque chose qui était si... familiers Pourquoi était-il humide? Comme avant, il y avait un cri, mais celui-ci n'était pas aussi shrill que celui qui terminait la musique, mais il était beaucoup plus clair, bien plus proche que n'importe quel son qu'elle avait entendu auparavant. Tout d'abord, cependant, il y a eu des mouvements. C'était comme si elle avait fait un voyage, mais c'était impossible, aucune dame bien entraînée ne tomberait jamais sur ses propres pieds. Les cris sont ce qui l'a ramenée, a ouvert une paire d'yeux bleus à une vue cramoisi. Cela expliquait l'humidité en un seul coup d'œil. D'une manière ou d'une autre, elle avait été enlevée du confort de la musique et de la chaleur de... quoi que ce soit qui amenait à l'inconfort des cadavres et des décors horribles et des piscines aquatiques qui se trouvaient à la base des montagnes de chair, d'os et de déchets. Une main tremblante tourne devant ses yeux et se rencontre non pas avec l'ivoire familier, mais avec une tache qui marquait ce qui était autrefois une peau sans défaut. Cette même main se rapprocha, touchant les joues ensanglantées et laissant derrière elle cinq simples stries de fluides malades. La réalisation s'est installée après un moment de considération, sans l'aide des cris forts qui était soudainement beaucoup plus clair et beaucoup plus compréhensible. Un coup lent de son cou a eu les yeux fixés sur une autre figure, la forme d'un homme - mais qui pouvait vraiment dire au milieu des cadavres - posant des questions simples. Les corps près de ses pieds ont glissé vers la même piscine qu'elle s'est trouvée dans, sans doute elle était parmi ce nombre il n'y a pas trop longtemps. Donc, c'est la faute de ce garçon curieux et confus qu'elle était maintenant couverte d'un beau manteau de ce qu'elle pouvait seulement espérer était juste du sang. Avant une confrontation, la femme blonde - avec des cheveux maintenant à cordes et teintés de rouge - s'emparait rapidement de son autre côté, espérant qu'elle était encore là et, si oui, qu'elle n'avait pas été dépouillée. Un soupir doux de relief de ses lèvres comme des doigts fins fermés autour d'un accessoire une fois étincelant et beau. Les choses regardaient déjà vers le haut; perdre cela aurait simplement fait que la femme ne voulait rien de plus que de s'allonger dans la piscine, de faire face d'abord cette fois, et d'apporter son propre défaire. La présence d'un anneau sur son doigt était apaisante, apaisante, bien qu'elle n'ait pas fait grand-chose pour atténuer l'inquiétude et la confusion persistantes. Des questions pour plus tard, sûrement. Plus important était la détermination des fonctions motrices. Ses mains étaient bonnes et lentement elle se leva jusqu'à ses pieds, tous deux ayant été submergés. Avait-elle porté des bottes - non... Attendez... elle était en talons finement pavés, n'est-ce pas? - ou n'importe quelle chaussure du tout elle aurait pu être sauvée le sentiment de cette soupe sanglante entre ses orteils... mais hélas elle n'était pas si chanceuse. Elle se tenait debout, ses orteils se tortillaient et faisaient de petites ondulations, et elle fit un pas. Elle n'a pas bourdonné. Elle n'a pas fait de voyage. Elle pouvait bouger, lentement pour l'instant, mais l'évanouissement était mieux que rien du tout. Avec ces préoccupations hors du chemin, ses oreilles ont commencé à ramasser d'autres sons. Des mots. Des motions. Des questions. Réponses. "Bonjour? Qui êtes-vous? Qui êtes-vous? elle a demandé, mais seulement dans sa tête. Elle ouvrit la bouche pour parler, pour questionner, mais aucun mot ne laissa ces lèvres. Tout ce qui est sorti, tout ce qu'elle a entendu, n'était pas comme un grognement d'une bête qui sonnait vaguement comme des questions de l'inflexion de ses bruits intestinaux. -- Quelqu'un peut-il m'entendre? Son grognement arrosé s'est redressé, ne posant aucune question intelligible et ne s'attendant à rien en retour. Son corps couvert de sang semblait maintenant être la moindre de ses préoccupations.

| The Betrothed | Carisa Xelfiria Barely In The Twenties Carisa certainly did her home proud just from a passing glance. Though average in height, she is extraordinary elsewhere, namely in her alabaster skin with nary a blemish and a fair maiden's dimple when she smiles. There's a symmetry to her angular face with her eyebrows a bit on the bushy side and a small nose with a downward point to the tip. Her build is rather lithe with muscles not readily visible but a body that shows both the signs of conditioning and laze. No one would confuse her for one that lived in a hedonistic opulence, but they would be correct in assuming that some of her time was spent not on improving her body but on enjoying the pleasures of being waited upon. Carisa's hair was once a fine thing, straight and lustrous with a hue that rivaled the golden fields of wheat, though it maintains its length, the color is more ghostly than golden, with long strands that often cover her right eye, which shines with a sapphire blue gaze matched in her left. Surely Carisa was at once considered a conventional beauty by any standards, which of course made her a perfect candidate in the great game that was political intrigue and machinations. Is it thus any wonder why she did not keep up with more physical pursuits? To those that mattered, Carisa was the ideal sort for those in higher positions. She spoke with regal inflections to her voice, never slouched her shoulders, and was in many regards a proper lady for those who sought not a loving wife but an arm piece to boast about. Carisa knew the score. She knew how to sell herself, to make herself stand out amongst the others all vying for the position of power and a loveless marriage. But that was never truly Carisa. Carisa, when not under the scrutiny and maintaining the best of appearances, had something of a puckish way about her, from her often colorful language to her rather unladylike habits, least of all knowing the appeal of a solid belch after a mug of the finest swill. That's not to say that Carisa was all laughs and bodily functions, though she was that in spades, she was something of a story teller, regaling peers and suitors alike (albeit with wildly different tales for each) with highly embellished narratives that were sprinkled with just enough vagueness to sound legitimate. But the problem with a silver tongue is that eventually someone is going to want to cut it from the mouth. Carisa has lost more than her memories, and one would only need to look into her mouth for proof of that. Though silent, her roguish ways linger, wrapped up nicely in someone who still appears to come from a regal background. Silence - Not just in the terms of the voice. Carisa's footsteps are light enough to make her both swift on her feet and skilled at sneaking about. There was always a second purpose to her grooming for marriage, and being silent was needed when the matter came to discretion. Agile Combatant - While not gifted with more heavier forms of engagement nor the ranged sort, Carisa knows her way around lighter, dagger-like weaponry. Hers may not come with the powerful cleaves or hidden snipes, but a blade slipped between the spine or ribs hurts all the same. All those lessons in dance were not just about learning how to waltz after all, and when she is in motion it is rather graceful like any good dance. Housekeeping - Perhaps no longer useful in these strange, dangerous times, but there was once a point where Carisa knew how best to prepare a slab of meat or the way to cut ingredients thin enough to retain flavor. What need would people used to being waited on have for someone who couldn't prepare a simple meal? Twinblades, Minus One - Thin blades wielded in both hands; her left hand is her dominant one and so gets the sturdier weapon. The right blade has broken and the left blade is no longer as sharp as it once was, but the finely crafted blades bring a certain comfort. Silver Ring - It is fortunate that some mischievous sort never got the bright idea to steal the ring by removing the finger from Carisa's hand. It's no longer as shiny as it was and the promise it once held can never be upheld, but Carisa is still glad to have it. Leather Armor - Befitting one who stole not gold and jewels but something just as precious. The leather has been worn by time, frayed, its color dulled and dirtied, and the boots missing, it's not something that will protect from blades or even sharp teeth, but for someone who prefers avoiding to standing ground perhaps it is sufficient. Shadowstep - A life of nimble, graceful steps has worked out rather nicely. Carisa isn't exactly sure what happens, but when staring down someone with clear ill intent, their blade or strike might sometimes hit nothing but air despite them seeing a rather clear image of Carisa herself. But by the time the deception is realized, a sharp pain is in their back. A step behind them so quick that it creates the illusion of Carisa still being right in front of them.

L'Édorique s'est ébranlé et a lancé un son haut, presque animal, alors qu'il s'enfuyait, les mains battant sur le sol en pierre lisse avant que son sens dérive lentement vers lui. Il a levé les yeux, et à travers sa respiration intense, il a vu quelqu'un d'autre. Un autre humain (?), debout devant lui, offrant une main tendue. Flashbacks de la pourriture, saisir le bras qu'il a frappé plus tôt, les fissures inébranlables et torsadées cicatrices chantées dans sa tête alors qu'ils chevauchaient avec ses visions actuelles de la jeune fille blindée devant lui. Il y avait quelque chose d'étonnant chez cette dame qui a maintenu sa tête au niveau dans une telle situation. Edoric a fait de son mieux pour imiter son état mental alors qu'il s'empoignait de son visage, son esprit courait à travers des souvenirs déconnectés. Il s'est vu se blottir à côté d'un mur par une nuit pluvieuse, échangeant des pièces avec des figures sans visage et voyant les plus beaux horizons. "Lève-toi," une voix l'envoya peu à peu au loin, une voix beaucoup plus masculine que celle de la jeune fille blindée, c'était pompeux et joyeux, mais pourtant encore chaud et attentionné, curieux presque, "Pourquoi es-tu sur le sol? Il y a un monde à explorer, des occasions d'exploiter et des aventures à avoir! Pour le code du marchand!" "Un orteil de w-world ex-explore..." Édoric s'est bourdonné comme ses mains graciaient le sol, à la recherche d'une pierre à laquelle ancrer ses bras pour le lever, ses yeux fermés et cachés derrière des franges de ses cheveux argentés. "Ch-chances d'être tachenn..." l'homme planta ses bras tremblants dans le sol et les renforça comme une meute de terre alors que la jeune fille aux armes soulevait un bouclier et osait une présence que l'Édorique ne pouvait pas sentir pour sortir. "Les aventures à b-be avaient..." l'air vieux, rassasié, musqué de la mort s'est précipité pour remplir ses poumons lourds qui étaient assis comme des pierres dans sa poitrine, aucun gagnement ou vomissement est venu comme il a rempli son sang vile d'esprit impie. -- Car c'est la croyance dont je suis l'auteur. Edoric prit une profonde respiration et regarda vers le haut, son regard se tournant de celui du sol sanglant et triste à celui qui a posé une tête de lui, son esprit maintenant clair alors qu'il a fini son chant. L'endroit était toujours cauchemardesque et enfer, dégoûtant et flippant sans doute, mais Edoric avait l'impression qu'il avait perdu son impact de choc. Bien sûr qu'il voulait toujours chier son pantalon quand il a vu une petite couvée d'inceste sortir des mâchoires ouvertes d'un corps en décomposition, mais au moins il ne s'est pas chié lui-même. Avec son esprit rafraîchi et plus stable, il a regardé autour de lui, finalement être en mesure de jeter un bon coup d'oeil à la jeune fille blindée après avoir essuyé les larmes de séchage avec une manche sale et tatouée. Elle était belle, même dans son état désolé, entourée dans cette misérable chambre d'horreurs. Silken cheveux noirs et la peau de poupée avec une aura de force; Edoric mentirait s'il disait qu'une telle dame n'a pas attrapé son oeil, même si elle portait cassé, assiette battue, mais a décidé de s'attarder sur des choses plus importantes pour le moment, à savoir essayer de se défendre. Il a balayé son regard, rien de digne d'une arme encore en dehors des os et des corps. Plus qu'il n'avait entendu dire que les fémurs étaient des os incroyablement robustes, plus forts que l'acier par certains récits. Il s'est demandé si un club-hammer-bashy-bonger ferait l'affaire, mais a commencé à réaliser à quel point la perspective de glisser autour de ce qui était fondamentalement la jambe d'un pauvre sod comme un dispositif de matraquage était insaisissable. Heureusement, il avait vu quelque chose d'autre, quelque chose qui scintille légèrement dans la chambre dépréciée, comme des braises fugaces avant les ombres obscurcies. En s'approchant d'elle, Edoric atteignit l'éclat doux et mourant et saisit sa main autour d'elle. Vieillir, modeler le cuir a accueilli la chair de sa peau alors qu'il enveloppait ses doigts autour de la poignée qu'il tentait de protéger, il n'y avait aucun doute que c'était une sorte de lame de sorte. Les métaux s'arrachant alors qu'il tirait de son sommeil millénaire dans sa gaine, Edoric tira une épée large, l'acier fondu tenu mais le plus faible des souvenirs d'un guerrier fier avec une lame d'argent à ses côtés. Cependant, il était clair qu'un tel âge a disparu depuis longtemps, puisque le guerrier présumé était maintenant parmi les nombreux tas de montagnes charnues, décrépites, dégoûtantes, dont les gémissements légers étaient encore accrochés à l'oreille d'Édoric. Il a fallu peu d'habileté pour voir que l'épée n'avait fait que légèrement mieux que son utilisateur; les fissures et les crins qui couraient le long de la lame autrefois fine qui courait maintenant terne. L'épée était en mauvais état pour le mettre au mieux, Edoric ne serait pas surpris s'il éclatait bientôt mais pourtant il tenait. Certaines étincelles dans son cerveau lui ont dit de renoncer à son utilisation comme une épée et plutôt d'utiliser sa gaine dure pour l'encastrer dans une couche de dureté pour être utilisé comme un club qu'il pensait qu'un fémur pourrait fournir il y a peu. Armé d'un nouveau club glorifié, Edoric a pris position derrière la jeune fille en armure et a pris position avec le museau émoussé sur son épaule et la tête pour être abaissé, « Dis... tu sais ce que tu fais bien? »

| The Merchant | Edoric Sikth Mid to Late Twenties Making a living off of trade and caravaning, Edoric has quite a sturdy, enduring build despite his otherwise ordinary looking frame. Nearing six-feet, he often has an air of assurance and professionalism about him, not doubt a facade he's had to wear for his line of work that has stuck. However, he doesn't exactly have an imposing figure, one that can stand out no doubt, but not one that could exactly strong arm someone. With an almost noble-like stance to his posture, his emerald eyes sit like jewels in a weathered face along with a tuff of silvery hair, Edoric sometimes radiates confidence, if not cockiness. Since his rebirth, he's found the additions of of broken chains around his wrists and ankles as well as quite the nasty scar around his neck. Edoric is almost child-like in a way, always curious and always yearning for a next adventure to weave into one of his many tales he loves to tells. Perhaps it was this wanderlust that got him killed in the first place. He likes to pretend to be as brave an courageous as the noble knights of fairytales are, but is still scared of such things as the dark and heights. Some might dare say he tends to be hypocritical. One should not confuse his youth-like nature for immaturity or stupidity however; Edoric's business aptitude as a merchant is a thing of itself, spilling over and turning him to be greedy and hoarding at times. At such times he can exist some pretty extreme pragmatism that focuses on his survival and fortunes. That said, he does have a charitable side to him and is willing to share, sometimes even for free. Merchant of Sikth - Like many of his home kingdom, Edoric's ability to work with numbers and coin is only matched by his greed. Likewise, he is no stranger to shadier dealings or underhand tactics, as they say in Sikth after all, "the coin must be earned through any means". Explorer's Endurance - Through many a travels through many a lands and environments, Edoric's stamina and endurance is easily able to match that of professional soldiers and knights even though he has little professional training in such areas. It also keep him quick on his feet for when jumping across unstable stones and logs atop a cliff waterfall are the only way forward. Blunted Broadsword - A once beautiful and sharp sword of brass and black leather with a blade that shone like sliver, now is chipped and dull and in desperate need of a touch up. As such, Edoric's only weapon cannot even be used as the sword it was made to be but instead acts more like a two handed club thanks to its hard sheath. Merchant Knapsack - Every good merchant knows that even if you have a pack animal or ship, you should always have a personal bag. Unfortuantely, it seems that whatever Edoric had been carrying has long since been lost, looted or misplaced leaving him with little more than dust and rubbish. Sikth Merchant Seal - A golden seal with delicate silver and gem given to those associated with one of Sikth's many trade companies or guilds and has seen great success. Edoric's appears to once been a sign of his aptitude but like so much of his belongings in their current state, is faded and worn, its regal nature long gone as only flakes of gold remain, revealing its true nature of stone. Mythic Movement - Perhaps a blessing of the Goddess of Aerya, Edoric's gift is one based in the art of movement. His body sometimes exhibits the rare and strange trait of ignoring the laws of physics or even his own body as he can run on walls, leap great distances, zip through halls and clamber up walls faster than even rangers with their tools. Of course his is not without its limited duration, however, Edoric seems to be able to sometimes draw upon a weaker version of this power effectively letting him "quick step".

Comme un animal blessé, l'homme effrayé s'est évanoui loin d'elle, l'analyseant de grands yeux. Heureusement, il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour qu'il se rende compte que Lyanna ne lui faisait aucun mal, au contraire, elle voulait l'aider. Elle a pris position et a appelé dans la direction opposée pour qui ou quoi que ce soit de mensonge là pour se montrer, un sentiment de confiance est venu quand le jeune homme d'avant se tenait à ses côtés brandissant une arme de sa propre. Cependant, ce sentiment s'est viteompé une fois que Lyanna a remarqué qu'il avait manié une épée encore gainée en elle, le fourreau. Certes, il semblait une touche plus imposante que sa propre lame cassée, mais une épée gainée ne allait pas faire beaucoup mieux en comparaison. Comme pour saler le sentiment fugace, le jeune homme ne semblait pas sûr : « Dis... tu sais ce que tu fais bien? » Il demanda aux brebis. « J'espère que... » Lyanna pensait encore ne pas l'avoir fait entendre, elle savait que si elle répondait avec incertitude, cela dénerverait le garçon plus qu'il ne l'est déjà. Au lieu de cela, elle regarda dans sa direction et lui donna un clin d'œil confiant avec un léger sourire sur son visage coulé. Ce sentiment... le sentiment de se tenir côte à côte avec quelqu'un, armé et prêt en prévision du danger lui semblait terriblement familier. Aussi familier que la respiration, presque. Sa vision éclata et ses sens la quittèrent, pendant un petit moment fugace qu'elle était ailleurs, adoptant la même position, accompagnée d'un certain nombre d'hommes de chaque côté, tous blindés et armés de la même manière. Celui à sa droite était nettement plus jeune et il jeta un sourire mal à l'aise avec un clin d'œil, la même qu'elle vient de donner à l'homme aux cheveux argentés dont l'image se fondit dans les soldats dans le moment suivant. Qu'est-ce que c'était? Un flash d'une autre époque? Une vie différente? La mémoire se sentait si... lointaine... comme si ça n'était pas vraiment arrivé et qu'elle était juste dans sa tête. Que lui est-il arrivé exactement? Mais les souvenirs d'un passé de longue date devraient attendre comme une nouvelle personne a fait remarquer sa présence. Celui-ci était un autre homme, vêtu de quelques robes de flottaison, mais bien décorées. Ses traits semblaient fins et presque féminins, ses yeux avaient une faible brillance pour eux et sa position a augmenté la confiance. Je, Xega de Xir, daigne me montrer, il a parlé, avec la même attitude et le même ton que celui d'un homme de haute naissance. Maintenant, nommez votre propre moi. Cela sonnait presque comme une demande plutôt qu'une demande, mais le ton de sa voix, la position qu'il adoptait et l'air de noblesse à son sujet envoyaient plus de sentiments de familiarité à travers elle, comme si elle avait interagi avec son espèce plus souvent qu'elle ne le pensait. Cependant, au lieu du sentiment réconfortant celui-ci a envoyé de légères secousses de tension à travers ses muscles, pourquoi elle ne savait pas. Pour l'instant, elle était contente de savoir que cette personne est venue sans mauvaise volonté, cela l'a fait se détendre même si juste un peu. Qu'est-ce qu'il a dit? Il s'appelait Xega. De Xir? Ce nom semblait familier... Xir..Xir... Ah, oui! Xir était un autre royaume, un lieu où existait la magie et où Magi exerçait ses pouvoirs, si elle ne se trompait pas. En rappelant cela, elle a de nouveau fait attention à l'homme volé, juste parce qu'il semblait vide main ne signifie pas qu'il était inoffensif s'il était en effet un mage. Lyanna ne se rappelait jamais avoir déjà affronté la sorcellerie, et tout en n'ayant pas peur, elle préférerait qu'elle n'en arrive pas là. Je suis Lyanna de Badarium. Ce n'est qu'à présent qu'elle se rend compte qu'elle n'avait aucune idée de qui était l'homme aux cheveux argentés en dehors d'elle. Je... je m'excuse, je n'ai pas pris votre nom... Une fois les présentations faites et il est devenu clair qu'aucun d'entre eux n'avait d'intentions hostiles envers l'un ou l'autre, Lyanna a largué il garde et a couvert son épée cassée à ses côtés, en s'approchant de Xega avec Edoric à ses côtés. Elle ne pouvait voir personne d'autre, peut-être étaient-ils les seuls ici? Plus important encore, où était-il ici? Et qu'est-ce qui leur est arrivé exactement? Elle a lâché la gorge, légèrement, et l'adresse de Xega, "Wise magus, savez-vous ce qui se passe ici? Sommes-nous les seuls de..., elle a hésité avant de continuer, l'esprit sain d'esprit?, le mot a été faiblement prononcé. Comme si Lyanna n'y croyait pas. Qui pourrait lui en vouloir? Tu te rappelles les derniers moments de ta mort apparente et tu te réveilles ici? Cela ferait que les plus instruits des hommes remettent en question leur propre stabilité mentale.

|The Shield Maiden| Lyanna Badarium Late twenties to early thirties People of Badarium were often graced with elegant beauty, delicate features and voluptuous bodies. Lyanna was, for the most part, no exception from the rule. With her soft, pale skin, wavy black hair, comely features and auburn eyes, she certainly caught the gazes of many a man and even a few women, though most were unintentional. However, what one would see at first sight was not all true, for underneath her armor, this 1.71m tall woman would boast a muscular body which contrasted with her feminine curves, the result of hard physical training which also granted her a physical strength comparable with the toughest of men, an aspect which took many by utter surprise due to her appearance. Her rebirth did deteriorate her visage, her skin adopting a shade of grey, her eyes loosing most of their shine and color, and there was also a long, thin gash now ever present on her torso, reaching from her bellybutton and straight upwards stopping just below her collarbone. Courageous, level-headed and loyal to a fault, Lyanna was often commended for these traits by her liege Lord, who more often than not also praised her beauty but she always paid no mind to that, dedicated to serving him loyally and competently as the captain of his personal guard and nothing more. That is to say, she was not always sour and dour, she felt most comfortable when surrounded by her fellow soldiers, the sense of camaraderie that was created through her leadership made them seem like family, the only real family she ever had. Of course, rumors travel far and wide in the Kindom of Badarium and there was much discussion of the female guard captain who became ‘awfully close’ with her subordinates, yet just like the flirtatious intentions of her liege Lord, Lyanna paid no mind to such talk. If the common folk felt secure enough from other dangers that they were able to speak of such things, among others, then it meant she was doing her job properly and that was good enough for her. Shield Master – Lyanna is a skilled warrior, virtually unmatched with a shield in hand. This style of combat is one that requires a strong arm and iron determination, both of which Lyanna possesses in spades, capable of anticipating and blocking attacks only to retaliate with devastating force. Bravery – Fighting in the front line is no task for those faint of heart, Lyanna always keeping an uncanny cool temper even in the face of the most horrific of adversaries. Once she has set a defensive line, she will not yield until her last breath has been given, proving time and again that she will not be easily distraught. Hearty Constitution – Unlike the vast majority of women from her land, Lyanna would spend most of her time undertaking grueling physical training, pushing her body to the limit and overcoming it. With a hard back, iron stomach and a strong arm, Lyanna could not be easily toppled and could take down men twice her size. Damaged Plate Armor – This type of armor is the very symbol of a strong and noble knight, offering great protection while sacrificing mobility. This one, however, has seen better days as the breastplate is battered and broken, missing its upper left side as well as its gorget and right spaulder. Along with that, the entire plating of the right arm seems to be missing, the only thing offering protection being the scalemail shirt underneath which reaches just before the elbow, leaving the left forearm completely exposed. The left side of the armor, the chausses and steel-toed boots are faring no better, being battered and worn but at least they are still there. Worn Heather Shield – A metal shield which offers great protection as well as being light enough to maneuver by a skilled wielder. Time has not been kind to it, being bent, battered and worn to such an extent that even the once proud crest on its surface has become faded and unrecognizable. Broken Arming Sword– The standard issue one-handed sword wielded by any warrior who boasts competence in combat. That is what it once was before whatever unfortunate events rendered it in this state, the blade being dull and broken in half, making it quite worthless. However, ‘near worthless’ trumps ‘empty handed’. Unnatural Might – Since her rebirth, Lyanna has discovered that she possesses an odd, unknown power which triggers, apparently, randomly. This power would manifests itself under the form of many wisps of crimson smoke emanating from her body along with the color(or current lack of color) of her eyes turning to a deep, vibrant red. The effects resulting in a great adrenaline surge coursing through her, removing any sign and sensation of fatigue from her body and increasing her physical strength tenfold, allowing her to shrug off all but the most devastating of blows while delivering unfathomable punishment. This effect does not last long, however, nor can Lyanna ‘trigger’ it on her own. Could this strange power be a gift from the Gods… or something else entirely?

XEGA Le jeune homme aux cheveux argentés semblait avoir retrouvé son esprit, et maintenant se tenait derrière la femme avec une épée gainée au prêt. La façon dont il le tenait, comme un club, parlait soit d'un manque d'entraînement, soit de l'état de la lame. Il n'y avait aucune façon de dire qui, à l'heure actuelle, mais néanmoins Xega n'a pas laissé l'arme l'intimider. Il a fléchi ses doigts, un à la fois, les enroulant à ses paumes dans un mouvement languit, puis les ouvrant dans l'ordre inverse. La femme s'est présentée. Lyanna de Badarium. Un autre nom de nation qui sonnait une cloche, mais aucun souvenir distinct ne sortirait. La femme semblait satisfaite qu'il n'y ait pas de violence à faire ici, et elle gaina son arme et baissa son bouclier. Elle a lâché la gorge, légèrement, puis s'est adressée à Xega. Wise Mage, savez-vous ce qui se passe ici? Sommes-nous les seuls de..., elle a hésité avant de continuer, l'esprit sain d'esprit?, le mot a été faiblement prononcé. Xega a dit simplement, pliant ses bras dans ses manches. D'une certaine manière, il s'agissait d'un mouvement de nature similaire à la gaine de la lame de la femme. Il, ainsi que le doigt fléchissant d'avant, semblait être des réflexes. Même si ses souvenirs n'étaient pas entièrement intacts, il semblait que ses muscles du corps, légers comme ils étaient, se souvenaient de tous les mouvements qu'ils avaient été entraînés à effectuer en tandem avec son sort. Je ne sais pas ce qui s'est passé ici au-delà de l'évidence; nous sommes ressuscités d'entre les morts, et je présume que vous autres souffrez de la même condition que moi en ce qui concerne nos facultés de mémoire. J'imagine, jusqu'à présent, que c'est l'œuvre d'un nécromance qui a l'intention de nous livrer une tâche tombée ou de nous utiliser dans un rituel odieux. Mais on pourrait penser qu'un tel sorcier serait présent. Et il me semble qu'un tel effort pour ressusciter les morts, dans une condition telle que nous sommes--faite saine une fois de plus malgré notre cause de la mort-- serait plus taxant que simplement capturer un abruti pour saigner sur un autel. Il a fait quelques pas d'un côté, regardant autour de la chambre. Comme il l'a fait, il a continué à parler à Lyanna et à Edoric, bien que de la façon qu'un conférencier pourrait à un étudiant, et sans les regarder directement. Nous ne sommes pas les seuls à nous être levés. J'ai déjà rencontré une Mlle Syrenia, d'Iliandur, de l'autre côté de cette tour ensanglantée de sang. Et avec elle est une autre femme, qui nous a appelés dans la confusion hésitante. Je crois que Mlle Syrenia s'est réveillée avant moi, peut-être qu'elle en a appris plus sur notre situation. Je ne sais pas combien d'autres de ces cadavres se lèveront... ni dans quelle condition leur esprit sera dans quand ils le feront. Il entendit alors un bruit, et se tourna vers lui, ses mains réapparaissant et tombant de ses côtés. Ça ressemblait à une sorte de grognement. Bien sûr. Il y a aussi la question des animaux. Bien sûr, j'aurais dû penser que nous pourrions rencontrer une bête brumeuse ; il y a beaucoup de ferrailles pour elle, après tout...Il a regardé en arrière à Lyanna et Édorique, et tout simplement anodin dans la direction du son. Puis il commença à l'approcher... Doucement, il arrondit un autre tas de cadavres qui se trouvaient à quelques pieds de la tour, et il rencontra un bassin peu profond du liquide rouge grisâtre. Se tenant dedans, la tête couverte à l'orteil dedans, était une autre femme, celle-ci avec une peau d'albâtre pâle et des cheveux qui auraient dû être blonds, mais qui semble avoir été lavé dans le sang. Son apparence, comme celle de Lyanna, aurait été très agréable à l'œil si elle n'avait pas revêtu les traits d'un horrible ghoul. Quand elle a essayé de parler à nouveau, seul cet étrange grognement est sorti. Xega l'a regardée pendant un long moment. Votre langue a-t-elle été coupée?Il a finalement demandé, avant qu'il ne se caresse le menton d'une main et ne murmure à lui-même. J'avais l'impression que nous étions tous ressuscités avec nos blessures guéries... mais peut-être que ce n'est que ce qui a causé notre mort qui a été guérie? Lyanna et Syrenia, étant des guerriers entraînés, porteraient-ils peut-être encore des cicatrices qui ont été gagnées avant leur mort? Il se tenait là, il se tapait le pied, pendant un certain temps avant qu'il ne lève les yeux, comme s'il venait de se rappeler qu'il y en avait d'autres avec lui. Je suis Xega, de Xir, il a dit clairement à la femme qui, apparemment, ne pouvait pas parler. Je ne vous veux pas de mal, vous voulez dire moi-même la même chose.

| The Magus | Xega Xir Early Twenties Xega, as a studious mage of one of the most prestigious academies of Xir--though he can't remember which one--has the frail form one would associate with such. At a height of five feet and eleven inches, he stands just short of the standard many might consider "manly," but then most mages weren't concerned with such matters of primitive brawn. He barely weighs one hundred and forty pounds, and has woman-like features especially about his face and slender, nimble fingers. Currently, immediately after his Rebirth, his eyes bear deep lines beneath them and his cheeks are sunken; his illustrious, deep purple hair is now messy and looks as if it hadn't been washed in days. Xega is self-centered and arrogant, and considers himself an intellectual only concerned with his pursuits of arcane mystery. He finds such things as physical strength and athleticism to be beneath him, and considers those who would employ such against him to be barbarians--and yet, like any man of the mind, he finds himself infuriatingly helpless against such overpowering brawn. Xega cannot stand not knowing the answer to a question, and will maddeningly seek a solution with relentless zeal. His excitement can be contagious, as despite his normal introversion, if he can connect with someone about his studies he becomes much more personable. Skilled Magician - Xega was a graduate student of his academy, pursuing research and conducting experiments alongside some of the finest minds of Xir. As such, his command of the arcane arts is considerably mighty. Fulgurmancy - Xega's preferred forms of battlecraft, the magics of conflict, involves the use of controlled lightning. With it he can produce bolts or streams of white hot lightning to electrocute and scorch his enemies. The short lived nature of lightning, however, makes it hard to use defensively or to maintain a spell for long periods. Sharp Mind - As one who has researched and studied for such a large portion of his life, and being naturally intelligent and inquisitive, Xega is equipped to handle many a mystery or mental puzzle with relative ease. Wizard's Staff - A hardwood staff of about six feet, its last third of length seemingly naturally grown into the shape of a plaited braid. It curls slightly, forming a hook onto which to attach Xega's magus foci. The staff itself merely provides a means of gesture and focus, as well as a last line of defense. Runes are etched into its surface, their protective wards being the only thing that kept the staff from being stolen from his corpse. Crystal Lantern - This shining brass lantern holds within it a crystal of condense arcane power, which serves as a collector of ambient magical energies and a focus for Xega to use to reduce the strain on himself when channeling the Arcane Stream. Its magics are bonded specifically to Xega himself, making it useless to anyone else, and some of the same runes that protected the staff protected it as well. Book Satchel - Once, this satchel held Xega's tomes of sorcery. They have been looted from his former corpse, however, all but one--a basic textbook that was already far outdated in Xega's own time, and is now so dry rotted and yellowed as to be practically illegible. Runesight - A gift that can only be from Arcanus himself, Xega will find that at certain times magical runes appear within the depths of his black pupils, which dilate to a much larger size as if engulfing a void. These runes confer upon him powerful magic sight, granting him visions of "true nature," which sometimes include not just what something truly "is," but perhaps, if the target of his sight is now broken, a vision of what it "once was." It cannot be activated by Xega's own will as of yet, though he struggles to understand it and use it as he would all his other magics. A fitting power, for one whose life is driven by endless thirst for knowledge.

Edoric a simplement regardé et observé comme le chevalier Lyanna et les magos Xega ont discuté de leur situation. Les deux étaient certainement un groupe assez intéressant des premières impressions au moins, l'un d'un royaume de magie et l'autre d'indulgence sensuelle. Les deux ont sonné à l'intérieur de la tête d'Edoric, était-ce qu'il était là avant? Où sont-ils à peu près les mêmes périodes? L'un aurait-il pu être construit sur les ruines de l'autre? Il était tout à fait clair que son esprit cobble toujours ensemble après son long sommeil et sa reconstruction après qu'il ait craqué. Le marchand a prié ce que Dieu était encore autour qu'il ne s'est pas fait ressembler à un fou babillant, ce ne serait pas de bonnes premières impressions, mais quelque chose a dit à Edoric de ne pas s'inquiéter à ce sujet. Il l'avait déjà bâclé. Je ne sais pas ce qui s'est passé ici au-delà de l'évidence; nous sommes ressuscités d'entre les morts, et je présume que vous autres souffrez de la même condition que moi en ce qui concerne nos facultés de mémoire. J'imagine, jusqu'à présent, que c'est l'œuvre d'un nécromance qui a l'intention de nous livrer une tâche tombée ou de nous utiliser dans un rituel abominable. Mais on pourrait penser qu'un tel sorcier serait présent. Et il me semble qu'un tel effort pour ressusciter les morts, dans une condition telle que nous sommes--faite saine une fois de plus malgré notre cause de la mort-- serait plus taxant que simplement capturer un abruti pour saigner sur un autel. Edoric écouta attentivement les propos du Magos Xega, son esprit beaucoup plus aiguisé que le sien sur de telles questions. Les questions d'arcane avaient toujours intrigué l'homme, mais après quelques dalles en elle, il s'était convaincu que peut-être c'était la brillance de l'or que son esprit voyait plus clairement que celle des anciens tomes et des rouleaux mythiques. Cependant, Edoric a découvert que de telles histoires pouvaient faire de bonnes histoires de temps de lit pour ces longues nuits sans sommeil qui rampaient dans ses souvenirs. "J'ai déjà entendu parler de ce genre de choses lors de mes voyages. À un certain degré de vérité, probablement." Edoric s'est corrigé en présentant sa propre idée de leur situation, "J'ai entendu dire qu'il y a des païens qui ont réussi à faire appel aux esprits des morts par des rituels impies, mais pas des corps pleins. Si je me souviens bien, il y avait aussi une peste dans la ville de... euh... peu importe. Il y avait quelque chose qui s'était répandu parmi la population qui avait causé des morts comme celles-ci, mais rien sur la résurrection. Peut-être cet état pourrait-il être un mélange d'événements?" Edoric ne peut que prier pour qu'il n'ait pas l'air trop ignorant ou mal informé par rapport à celui de Xega, de peur qu'il ne se rende compte à quel point de telles choses étaient improbables avant qu'il ne cite une écriture arcane avancée sur la question. Néanmoins, ces histoires où vrai dans la façon dont Edoric les avait entendues des autres dans la vie, il pensait au moins. "O-oh, j'ai presque oublié de me présenter." Edoric a pris un pas en arrière et a placé une main sur sa poitrine et l'autre a tendu sur son côté et s'est gracieusement prosterné, "Édoric de Sikth? Oui, Skith. Explorateur marchand de House-" Merde, Edorique maudit mentalement. Son cerveau avait fait le lien avec les maisons marchandes de sa patrie, mais il s'est arrêté là, son esprit incapable d'établir un nom, Vous faites un merveilleux imbécile de vous-même "Édorique de Skith, explorateur marchand de la maison Dwyndelir", Edoric s'est rapidement répété et a inséré un nom aléatoire, espérant que personne ne remarquerait qu'il s'est formé une fascade beaucoup plus nivelée, presque noble, "Désolé à ce sujet, il semblerait que cet endroit ait eu tout l'effet sur mon esprit-" Un faible grognement s'est fait écho dans la chambre sanglante alors que Xega s'est remis une fois de plus, "Ah, bien sûr. Il y a aussi la question des animaux. Bien sûr, j'aurais dû penser que nous pourrions rencontrer une bête brumeuse ; il y a beaucoup de ferrailles pour elle, après tout. En s'emparant de son sabre avec des mains de fer et des paumes transpirantes, Edoric s'inquiétait de ce que Xega parlait de "bête". Il voulait dire que c'était peut-être juste un loup errant, attiré par l'odeur de la viande et du sang. Mais étant donné la chose géante instinale qui s'est accrochée au plafond (et dont la minceur impie s'était glissée dans le dos), Edoric s'attendait à quelque chose de bien pire. Quelque chose comme... une femme muette? Edoric écoutait alors que Xega commençait à parler une fois de plus, un bavard qu'il n'était qu'instructif ou curieux. Alors que la femme en question se rapprochait davantage de la perception d'Édoric, il pouvait immédiatement dire qu'elle était pire pour l'usure que n'importe laquelle d'entre elles. En abandonnant la langue manquante qui était sans doute la cause de ses grognements bêtes, il pouvait dire qu'elle était de la royauté, ou à tout le moins, de la richesse. Mais il avait semblé qu'une telle richesse était un lointain souvenir étant donné son manque de chaussures et le visage coulé avec un certain nombre de défauts sur son joli visage probablement. "Édorique de Sikth, explorateur marchand de la maison Dwyndelir." Édorique poliment fléchi, son mensonge beaucoup plus naturel cette fois, "Puis-je supposer que vous aussi n'avez aucune idée comment vous avez fini dans un tel enfer?"

| The Merchant | Edoric Sikth Mid to Late Twenties Making a living off of trade and caravaning, Edoric has quite a sturdy, enduring build despite his otherwise ordinary looking frame. Nearing six-feet, he often has an air of assurance and professionalism about him, not doubt a facade he's had to wear for his line of work that has stuck. However, he doesn't exactly have an imposing figure, one that can stand out no doubt, but not one that could exactly strong arm someone. With an almost noble-like stance to his posture, his emerald eyes sit like jewels in a weathered face along with a tuff of silvery hair, Edoric sometimes radiates confidence, if not cockiness. Since his rebirth, he's found the additions of of broken chains around his wrists and ankles as well as quite the nasty scar around his neck. Edoric is almost child-like in a way, always curious and always yearning for a next adventure to weave into one of his many tales he loves to tells. Perhaps it was this wanderlust that got him killed in the first place. He likes to pretend to be as brave an courageous as the noble knights of fairytales are, but is still scared of such things as the dark and heights. Some might dare say he tends to be hypocritical. One should not confuse his youth-like nature for immaturity or stupidity however; Edoric's business aptitude as a merchant is a thing of itself, spilling over and turning him to be greedy and hoarding at times. At such times he can exist some pretty extreme pragmatism that focuses on his survival and fortunes. That said, he does have a charitable side to him and is willing to share, sometimes even for free. Merchant of Sikth - Like many of his home kingdom, Edoric's ability to work with numbers and coin is only matched by his greed. Likewise, he is no stranger to shadier dealings or underhand tactics, as they say in Sikth after all, "the coin must be earned through any means". Explorer's Endurance - Through many a travels through many a lands and environments, Edoric's stamina and endurance is easily able to match that of professional soldiers and knights even though he has little professional training in such areas. It also keep him quick on his feet for when jumping across unstable stones and logs atop a cliff waterfall are the only way forward. Blunted Broadsword - A once beautiful and sharp sword of brass and black leather with a blade that shone like sliver, now is chipped and dull and in desperate need of a touch up. As such, Edoric's only weapon cannot even be used as the sword it was made to be but instead acts more like a two handed club thanks to its hard sheath. Merchant Knapsack - Every good merchant knows that even if you have a pack animal or ship, you should always have a personal bag. Unfortuantely, it seems that whatever Edoric had been carrying has long since been lost, looted or misplaced leaving him with little more than dust and rubbish. Sikth Merchant Seal - A golden seal with delicate silver and gem given to those associated with one of Sikth's many trade companies or guilds and has seen great success. Edoric's appears to once been a sign of his aptitude but like so much of his belongings in their current state, is faded and worn, its regal nature long gone as only flakes of gold remain, revealing its true nature of stone. Mythic Movement - Perhaps a blessing of the Goddess of Aerya, Edoric's gift is one based in the art of movement. His body sometimes exhibits the rare and strange trait of ignoring the laws of physics or even his own body as he can run on walls, leap great distances, zip through halls and clamber up walls faster than even rangers with their tools. Of course his is not without its limited duration, however, Edoric seems to be able to sometimes draw upon a weaker version of this power effectively letting him "quick step".

Ratha Les confins rouges obscurs de la jeune blonde ont griffé son chemin dans sa gorge, les organes inutilisés se révoltant contre leur renaissance et l'intrusion de liquide dans leur domaine. Un rapide flou a vu une main pâle et mince tirer dehors pour se pousser hors de la petite piscine dans laquelle elle s'est trouvée couchée; ses doigts douloureux ont fait contact avec quelque chose de froid et cuireux, son sourcil sillonné alors qu'elle a déplacé sa main sur l'objet étranger. Elle se déplaçait sous son toucher, raide et sans vie pendant qu'elle le suivait dans une petite dévot, lisse et creuse comme si quelque chose l'avait occupé. L'utilisation de muscles longs atrophiés a envoyé des épingles et des aiguilles danser dans son bras alors que la femme groggy essayait de sortir son esprit pour les souvenirs tourbillonnants dansant derrière ses yeux; ils l'ont taquinée et appelé à elle, elle savait qu'ils étaient importants mais ne pouvait pas se rappeler beaucoup d'autre, pas son nom, sa lignée, son lieu de naissance, quoi que ce soit. Un gémissement échappa à ses lèvres alors que l'écho des voix criait joyeusement dans son oreille. Quelqu'un se moquait de lui, de mots, d'endroits, d'autres qu'elle reconnaissait n'avaient aucun sens pour elle, mais ils semblaient connaître leurs noms... quel était son nom... ses dents frustrées contre sa lèvre inférieure alors qu'elle s'y pénétrait désespérément en griffant à travers son esprit accidenté pour son nom. Pourquoi une femme morte a-t-elle besoin d'un nom? L'autre main caressait l'armure liée contre elle, une petite fissure courait à travers elle s'étendant vers l'extérieur du côté gauche... mais il manquait quelque chose....il n'y avait pas de flèche là-bas avant....les yeux verts regardaient vers le bas en se concentrant sur l'espace vide, la flèche brillante dorée flachée était partie, la seule preuve de cela était le trou dans sa plaque thoracique. Sa livrée verte, usée, enveloppait une scène dans son esprit, la chaleur du soleil d'été et le vent subtil de la forêt l'entourait brièvement avant de la remplacer une fois de plus par l'humidité froide et sombre dans laquelle elle se trouvait maintenant. C'était mal, elle était en patrouille... à la recherche d'un intrus... comment est-elle arrivée ici... La pierre dure et l'eau saumâtre étaient des indicateurs clairs qu'elle n'était plus dans la forêt, et que les champs d'Irisia étaient partis depuis longtemps. Irisia? Est-ce que d'où elle venait, la pensée lui semblait juste, au moins elle répondait à une question, ses yeux s'éloignaient de l'armure, pour voir sur quoi son autre main reposait. Un visage sans yeux l'observa, un sourire barbare enduit à travers le visage, gelé par le temps, ne voulant pas se concentrer sur elle, ses yeux se déplaçaient autour d'elle en trouvant de plus en plus de cadavres qui jonchaient le sol autour d'elle. Il semblait que la réponse à l'endroit où elle était serait parmi les morts, la clarté de la pensée était perdue à mesure que ses émotions vacillantes et fraiantes prenaient le dessus; son corps a pris le relais de la doubler une fois de plus comme de faibles toux brûlées à travers elle, malheureusement tout le contenu de son estomac n'était rien d'autre qu'acide froid qui déchirait sa gorge déjà endolorie. Plusieurs secondes passèrent comme l'heure alors qu'elle continuait à sécher le talon contre le sol sans bouger, un petit sifflement échappant à ses lèvres. Quel dieu l'avait-elle énervée qui la ramènerait dans un endroit si désolé, une main qui s'approchait pour couvrir ses yeux de bouche brouillés de larmes chaudes menaçant de se mêler à la bile de la pile qui trempe dans sa main droite. C'est peut-être l'enfer. Une autre pensée claire et froide coupée à travers la nourriture dans son esprit, une qu'elle s'est attachée à, peut-être qu'elle n'avait pas été un bon Ranger, était ce droit... dans sa vie passée si savoir qu'elle a dû expier pour cela. Revivu seul parmi les morts; une douce lumière brillait sur l'eau, attirant son attention vers le haut, reconnaissante de tout répit contre les ténèbres qui s'infiltraient dans son esprit. Un autre gémissement accroché dans l'air alors qu'elle se brouillait à l'envers et atterrissait sans être gracieusement sur ses haunches avec une forte éclaboussure dans une autre flaque, une étrange lance réfractante dans ses griffes sans être remarquée alors que ses yeux restèrent transfixés sur le sac pulsant accroché au-dessus de sa tête. Ça doit être l'enfer. J'ai été damné. Un bruit de râpage dur grondait dans sa poitrine alors qu'elle parlait, les mots étaient forcés et tranchants, sa voix craqueant avec chaque syllabe, la douce mélodie qu'elle portait depuis longtemps disparue. Incapable de lui arracher les yeux de l'étrange créature, si elle était même une créature, elle n'entendait pas les paroles prononcées par les autres jusqu'à ce que l'éclaboussure des gens qui se déplaçaient attire son attention. Juste parce que là où d'autres ne voulaient pas dire que c'était sûr, peut-être que c'était quelqu'un envoyé pour la tester, ou pour la tuer à nouveau. Ses mains se sont évanouies autour d'elle à la recherche d'une arme, d'un bouclier, de tout ce qui pourrait aider à sa survie. Pourquoi elle avait besoin de survivre qu'elle ne savait pas, mais la pensée était claire et mise dans sa tête. Sa main gauche tournait autour de la poignée en bois, la rapprochant et sortant de la profondeur de l'eau. Le bois était chaud dans son toucher froid, la lame dentelée attrapant la lumière basse envoyant de petits reflets de lui dansant autour de la blonde. Ses mains trouvèrent naturellement les poignées de main usées et s'y installèrent en l'utilisant avec ardeur pour se préparer à se lever lentement une fois de plus jusqu'à ses pieds. Une succession rapide de mouvements de main a envoyé le trident tourner paresseusement à travers l'air faisant de petits cercles autour d'elle, la traction et la tension sur les muscles depuis longtemps utilisé était un sentiment bienvenu. C'était bien, une petite sensation de tapage chuchotait que c'était à elle, pas une arme désespérément jetée, c'était quelque chose pour laquelle elle avait travaillé et avait perfectionné ses compétences. Un sourire doux a gracié ses lèvres cassées, elle était Ratha, et elle était la seule Ranger assez stupide pour utiliser une lance. S'étant serrée l'arme près de sa poitrine, elle soupira profondément en respirant l'air putride avant de s'adoucir. Il serait préférable de s'annoncer que d'attendre et d'être découvert peut-être ainsi qu'elle pourrait avoir l'avantage de surprendre si elle venait à se battre pour sa vie. Bonjour? Il y a quelqu'un?

|The Pursuant| Ratha Irisia Twenty-Two At first glance the young woman seems to have a slender build, muscles supple and faintly defined, gentle curves falling into all the right places, her skin was relatively unblemished and smooth as if she never worked hard in a day of her life. The only sign of wear would be the strange callouses on her palms rough and textured unlike the rest of the Rangers, a sign that she wielded a different weapon than the telltale signs of wielding a bow. She stands around five foot six inches allowing for long blonde hair to flow gently down her shoulders and down past the small of her back to be tied loosely with a green band keeping it from becoming tangled and caught on the rest of her; her face narrowed at the chin, sharp cheekbones contrast to the delicate nature of her cream colored skin. Bright emerald eyes peer out from under the soft feathered bangs often wistless and staring off to far places away from the fields and forest of Irisia. Armed sharp tongue and a mischievous grin, Ratha was never one lacking friends often spending her outings with the other Rangers playing small tricks and pranks on foreign travelers making sure they would never get too comfortable in Irisia; that they would never think of this place as nothing more than a nice place to visit but that it wasn’t for staying in. Her desire to play pranks is a manifest of her need to constantly do something that shaped to make quick decisions and she’s often the first to venture off and explore the unknown. She carries a streak of pride in her abilities and has a tendency to look down on others that ask for help, even went far enough to ignore the plea for help from the starving villagers and continued on with her duties unphased by walking through the streets the dying laying around her. Her pride seems to have taken a hit with the Rebirth and she now finds herself riddled with self hate whenever she isn’t able to accomplish something by herself. Plant Knowledge A Ranger from a farming country, she was brought up learning the different plants which she could eat, which could be used as poison or in the right combination can be used as a poultice for a field dressing. She used to keep a small book of various plant life but lost it, with the new environment she has taken a liking to stopping and studying the new fauna. Pole arm Combat Capable of switching between close range to long range combat, the pole arm allows for her to add more varieties to her attacks and maneuvers. While she wasn’t able to be as effective as using the standard Ranger’s Bow, it kept her from being defenseless when a the target was able to reach close enough that the bow lost effectiveness. Quick and easy motions that worked well to create distance between her and any attacker. Tracking & Hunting Drilled into her during her training to become a Ranger, Ratha excelled at tracking her teachers but seemed less enthused to commit to the hunting portion of the classes. She has an easy time reading paths from partial footprints, broken twigs, disturbed foliage; they were taught to both track animals and to follow outsiders that strayed too far into area’s that weren’t allowed in, the hunting was meant to keep the larder’s of the Royal families full and stocked with variety. If needed they would send out a Ranger to find something new and exotic. -Celeste’s Guardian- Ratha’s trident, a long pole arm, dark green handle with gold design covering it, worn parts of the handle revealed the dark yew it was made of. A supple wood giving it flexibility and a soft firmness allowing it to absorb impact and bend to redirect attacks; two prongs glimmer at the top aimed downwards matching up to the three prongs spearing off from the top, an elegant weapon. A custom make though the maker and the reason why she choose this weapon has been long lost to her. -Ranger’s Outfit- Long slashes cut through the back of the outfit, the tattered green cloth was lined with gold filigree. Several different pieces of leather armor were belted and tied into place protecting the more vital areas of the body while leaving enough freedom that movements are completely unrestricted. The right gauntlet and the left leg guard had been long lost, a careless mistake from her rookie days, though she no longer remembers how. -Leather Pouch- Relatively empty, small scraps of berries and herbs, a handful of dried meat. The basic fare Ranger’s carried with them out in the field, no trace of money. The only thing that tugged at her was a small silver trinket, a flower hairpin with small jewels hanging from the tips of the metal flower. She keeps it close and tucked in a small hidden pocket of the small pouch. Falcon’s Eyes- Because of the fickle nature of the gift, Ratha’s eyes at times become unfocused, as if looking at something far off. It helps her focus on a target, whether it be one she was intending to see or something that she needs to view. More often than not it happens at the most ill conceived times often taking her by surprise. While unable to use it to focus on target’s or objects far away she can use it to hyper focus and pinpoint on the subtleties around her.

Frei Frei arriva à temps pour voir des têtes colorées, l'une une violette coulée et l'autre rose, un jeune homme et une femme respectivement, de ce qu'elle pouvait dire. La première a commencé, et instinctivement elle a voulu appeler pour qu'il attende. Quelqu'un d'aussi fragile en apparence ne devrait certainement pas errer dans un endroit comme celui-ci, pas seul. Mais il n'était pas, pour quelques instants plus tard, elle entendit le bavardage d'autres voix. Peut-être serait-il en sécurité pour le moment, mais elle serait sûre de vérifier dès qu'elle aura des réponses. La fille aux cheveux roses était restée derrière, et comme le jeune homme, elle semblait petite et battue. C'était une enfant? Frei a tremblé de penser que les enfants pourraient être pris dans quelque chose d'horrible qui se passait, mais elle a aussi trouvé sa détermination renforcée à la notion. Après une inspection plus étroite, elle a découvert que la jeune fille brandissait une épée ruinée, à laquelle Frei s'est arrêtée et a mis la main en capitulation ouverte. Je suis désolé, elle a dit doucement, autant en raison de l'état de sa gorge que de sa volonté d'abaisser sa propre voix. Je ne veux pas faire peur, je suis un ami. Il s'est avéré à Frei que la déclaration, aussi bonne soit sa signification, pouvait être un mensonge. Elle ne savait pas qui était cette fille, d'où elle venait, ni comment elle était mêlée aux événements actuels. Dans leur vie antérieure, ils auraient pu être des ennemis mortels, ou ils auraient pu être des étrangers complets. L'épée dans sa main aurait pu être plongée dans le cœur des alliés les plus proches de Frei, ou des êtres chers, si elle en avait eu, ou elle aurait pu être utilisée pour protéger des vies innocentes. En regardant autour du carnage, et en entendant à nouveau les voix lointaines, Frei a senti que c'était un risque qu'il valait la peine de prendre. Lentement, à la main, elle s'est approchée. Mon nom est Frei, je me suis réveillé pas trop loin. Ça va? Avez-vous besoin d'aide? Soudain conscient de l'épée qu'elle portait, Frei donna à la poignée quelques bons remorqueurs. Elle est restée fermement gainée à travers les sangles en cuir qui la lient. Oh désolé. Vous voyez? Ferme-la, je te promets que je ne l'attirerai pas sur toi, si tu promets de ne pas me coller avec le tien. Marché conclu?

| The Merciful | Frei Draethir 25 Frei’s armor –or at least what remains of it– is dark as pitch where it isn’t scuffed, and lined by a brilliantly unmarred red. It conceals a warrior’s frame, lean muscle combating her feminine figure and habit of hunching. Even so she’s well above average height, and stands with a naturally imposing posture. Though her face holds an inherent softness, and though she is not often one to frown, it also carries a great potential for fury. Her eyes are a burning hue, and can be challenging to meet even on amicable terms. Since her rebirth, a noose with a frayed-off end remains wrapped ‘round her neck, tucked beneath her gorget. Contrary to both her appearance and land of origin, Frei is a gentle and compassionate woman who abhors violence against other people. In fact, all she seems to want to do is protect them, either from themselves through a well-meaning if not overtly idealistic diplomacy, or from the creatures infesting the world through vindicated action. She enjoys talking to people, hearing their stories, listening to their opinions and woes in the hopes that she can offer help, or at least the comfort of company in their terrible world. However, with reasoning unbeknownst to her, she suffers from infrequent yet potent flashes of anger. These thoughts feel as alien to Frei as they do revolting. Despite what she may like to believe, Frei’s true talents lie in the art of combat. She’s swift even in her armor, and handles the sword with practiced expertise. She does not, however, have experience fighting the creatures brought on by the Inalienable Dreamless, a skillset she would much rather possess over the ability to fight people. –Broken Greatsword– With a tight, black-leather hilt, ornate –if still nicked– guard, and ruby pommel, it’s easy to believe that this sword might have once been a thing of beauty and status. However the wide blade, an equally umbral color, is missing its top third, snapped off at an edge. An engraving near the base reads “Mercy”. –Draethir Armor– While missing a spaulder, a gauntlet, and its helmet, the sleek-fitted armor does its job well. Its Black bulk and red lining were once iconic to the Dominion of Draethir, a fact now either lost to Frei, or willfully ignored. –Ember Veins– Frei’s blood is passively warmer than natural, to no noticeable defect. When spilt however, the temperature spikes higher, an effect to which she is immune. At this point, barring the fickle nature of such Gifts, the blood can ignite to a multitude of uses, such as the imbuing of weapons with a long-lasting fire effect.

Le carrefour était plutôt vide ce soir. Ce n'est pas le diner niché au coin de la rue, mais la négociation elle-même. Abyzu s'assit au milieu, croisé et coulant, comme personne après personne est passé à l'intérieur et à l'extérieur de la porte d'entrée du petit restaurant. Elle démangeait pour faire un marché. Les affaires avaient été lentes ces derniers temps, non pas qu'elles n'étaient jamais en plein essor, mais de moins en moins de simplestons semblaient s'intéresser à avoir ce qu'ils désiraient. C'est peut-être le prix, elle a réfléchi, cueillir de la terre sous ses ongles. Les parents avaient moins envie d'abandonner l'âme de leur enfant que la leur. Bien sûr, une partie du contrat était qu'ils ne parlent pas de l'accord, donc si les règles étaient violées.. Ensuite, elle pourrait percevoir plus tôt. Un sourire méchant s'est répandu sur le visage d'Abby alors qu'elle se poussait à ses pieds. S'ils ne venaient pas à elle, elle irait à eux.

RAGUEL ARCHANGEL OF JUSTICE, FAIRNESS, VENGEANCE, AND HARMONY "I LAY TO REST THE WICKED" "ASSBUTT" BASICS CHARACTER FULL NAME: Raguel NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Reggie HEIGHT: 5' 9" BODY TYPE: Mesomorph, athletic, bottom heavy. AGE: Appears about 26 GENDER: None; goes by "she" PERSONALITY: Raguel is just as clueless as most of her angel brethren, but she finds humanity more fascinating than most. She's particularly interested in their need for pleasure and self satisfaction. She's ruthless and righteous, like any good angel, but she secretly has a mind of her own. She hasn't met her prophet yet but she deeply wants to. She almost wishes something bad would happen to him/her so that she could appear to save the day. Her main traits are basically summed up in her title. Justice and Vengeance: she tries her very hardest to make sure everyone gets what they deserve. Fairness and Harmony: she loves conflict, but not stupid conflict, so she strives to keep order. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: God SIBLINGS: All angels EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Pamela Vander (the prophet she guards) HISTORY (OPTIONAL): None yet, I develop characters through roleplay. EXTRA INFORMATION: N/A ABYZU CROSSROADS DEMON "BOY, THERE ISN'T ROOM IN YOUR PANTS." (picture is.. under construction) BASICS APPEARANCE: short, fire engine red hair, red eyes, dark skin. CHARACTER FULL NAME: Abyzu NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Abby HEIGHT: 5' 9" BODY TYPE: Ectomorph, average AGE: Appears about 32 GENDER: None; goes by "she" PERSONALITY: Abyzu is the best employee Crowley could ever ask for. She's sadistic and hateful, her deals are always sealed quickly and quietly, and she enjoys pain. So much pain. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: N/A EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: N/A HISTORY: Abby takes the souls of children. Her power comes from these souls. EXTRA INFORMATION: She has a thing for flirting. PAMELA VANDER PROPHET OF THE LORD "WAIT.. WHAT?" (picture is under construction) BASICS APPEARANCE: Portly, short, mousy, silver hair, one green eye, one yellow eye, crooked smile. CHARACTER FULL NAME: Pamela Vander NICK NAME OR ALIAS: None HEIGHT: 5' 6" BODY TYPE: Mesomorph, skinny, out of shape AGE: 14 GENDER: Female PERSONALITY: Pamela is always very confused. She doesn't do very well in school and she has a hard time concentrating on one thing at a time. She has a habit of refusing to do things she doesn't want to. She's a little lazy and kind of selfish, but her heart is in the right place. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: Daren Vander (he won't be mentioned) EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Raguel (the Archangel who guards her) HISTORY (OPTIONAL): EXTRA INFORMATION: Pamela secretly got a tattoo of a half moon with a wolf's paw for her brother.

Ian s'est assis tranquillement dans la chambre d'hôtel qu'il avait eue l'autre jour. Juste après avoir décidé qu'il allait rester un peu plus longtemps pour planifier son prochain déménagement. Mâcher sur sa lèvre dans la frustration. Avec une concentration minimale sur la tâche qu'il avait fait avant d'abandonner. Se repliant sur la chaise avec son ordinateur portable juste en face de lui sur la petite table en plastique sombre qu'il a figuré a été peint pour ressembler à ce qui était fait en bois. À en juger par le fait que ça sonnait avec le tapotage de ses doigts ennuyés et ennuyés. Sortir un soupir lourd, secouer la tête, s'asseoir en avant dans sa chaise pour remettre les quatre jambes sur le tapis de bronzage. Donner à l'ordinateur portable un éclat silencieux comme si c'était celui qui devait répondre à tous les problèmes qu'il avait quand il était chasseur. Il était arrivé dans cette petite ville juste à temps pour découvrir qu'un autre chasseur, beaucoup plus âgé, était arrivé au travail avant lui. Pour Ian, il avait vu ça partout. Il trouverait un emploi près de là, alors, juste quand il est arrivé là. Quelqu'un d'autre avait déjà fait tout le travail. Il l'a mis sur le dos en lui disant qu'il n'avait plus à s'inquiéter du blaireau. Qu'ils s'en sont occupés. Il commençait à en avoir marre des chasseurs plus expérimentés qui le traitaient comme s'il n'était encore qu'un enfant. Il a peut-être été jeune, plus espiègle. Il était déterminé à montrer qu'il était le fils de son père. Qu'il laisserait le nom de la chasse à Cosden. Même s'il devait tout faire seul.

IAN COSDEN HUNTER "Small tricks won't work on me... Sweetheart" "Dude!?! Really!?! Loosen up a little!!" Full name: Ian Cosden Alias: Jackson Wright Height: 5'11" Body type: Thin yet muscular Age: Just barely 22 Gender: Male MAYLA BETHELL SKINWALKER "Have you seen the world through the eyes of a dog??... No!! Then don't assume you know anything." Skinwalker form: Full name: Mayla Bethell Nickname: May Heigth: 4'11" Body type: Thin and a little lanky Age: 10 Gender: Female

Erik Shaeffer soupira et murmura alors qu'il était assis sur un banc à une intersection. Il a couru ses doigts dans ses cheveux alors qu'il pensait aux circonstances l'amenant ici, au milieu de l'hiver, en premier lieu. La ville seule était un point chaud pour l'activité, et quelques-uns de ses contacts avaient mentionné quelques objets rares possibles dans la ville. Pourtant, il n'avait pas vu de tels artefacts, et l'activité suspecte était autour, mais il semblait que d'autres chasseurs. Il n'avait pas beaucoup d'idée de ce qu'il devait faire. Il envisageait de partir à la chasse. Il n'était pas aussi jeune qu'avant, il savait, mais ça l'a encore ennuyé qu'il ne pouvait pas sprinter comme avant. Il a essayé quelques pompes ce matin-là et a été dégoûté par sa performance. Il se sentait comme un vieux pet, et il détestait ça. Avec cela à l'esprit, il a donné un soupir et s'est penché sur le banc, regardant une jolie paire de filles marchant de l'autre côté de la rue, l'air complètement innocent et heureux. Il y a peut-être eu un moment où il serait allé flirter avec eux. C'était avant qu'il rencontre un skinwalker... il a frémi à la mémoire. C'était trop horrible à se rappeler, et il l'a rapidement sorti de son esprit. Comment les gens peuvent vivre comme ça, de toute façon... Le fait que tant de gens pouvaient s'inquiéter de petites choses, comme la façon dont leurs cheveux étaient pour le jour, quand les gens sont morts horriblement à une quantité presque infinie de monstres de toutes sortes. Il regarda paresseusement la circulation agitée et continua de penser en cercles comme il l'avait fait pendant plusieurs années. Votre hôte est prêt. C'est un bon homme, tout à fait prêt à vous laisser entrer, et il est dans un bel endroit à la campagne. Je lui ai donné la parole pour toi. Je vous remercie. Les tablettes que je sais que je cherche, mais autre chose? Oh, tu sais... tous les démons autour, le jeu équitable, les monstres qui t'énervent, c'est aussi le jeu équitable. Castiel a tellement baisé je ne serais pas surpris si vous pouviez choisir un monstre dans une foule aléatoire de vingt personnes ces jours-ci. Au fait, l'humanité a quelque peu changé depuis votre dernière visite. Je sais que vous avez eu une bonne impression de leurs chevaliers... mais... ils ne sont plus aussi... communs. Quoi qu'il en soit, tout ira bien. Et une dernière chose... Si vous rencontrez quelqu'un hors de notre juridiction, alors envoyez-les-moi. Un éclair de lumière, visible du côté sud du Fremont mais de plus en plus visible pour ceux surnaturels ou entraînés à connaître ce genre de choses, remplit brièvement le ciel. Il semblait provenir d'une petite maison du côté sud. Bien que personne ne regardait l'époque, il y avait en fait une lumière très brillante qui sortait de chaque fenêtre de la maison; un éclair toujours si bref de sa vraie forme. Kaephypton s'est levé du sol, une légère vapeur s'est évanouie de sa bouche alors qu'il s'ajustait automatiquement à son nouveau corps. Les yeux ont commencé flou, presque impossible à voir à travers, avant qu'ils aiguisent en quelque chose qu'il était plus habitué à utiliser. Il a vu un nouveau cadavre d'une femme humaine... sans yeux et qui venait de glisser sur le mur. Il semble que les humains soient encore aussi faibles qu'ils l'étaient... La force de sa vraie forme venant sur terre l'avait frappée dans le mur et la vue l'avait rendue incapable de voir. L'impact lui avait brisé le cou. Ignorant le cadavre en dehors de lui, il est monté à la porte inconnue. La poignée avait... changé. Il l'a poussé en avant, mais rien ne s'est passé. Il a essayé de le tirer. Rien non plus. Donc... c'est coincé. Il poussa plus fort, forçant la porte à s'ouvrir vers l'extérieur et prenant une petite partie du cadre avec elle. Quand il a laissé tomber la poignée, la porte est tombée dans les marches avec un accident moins subtil. C'était une merveille que personne ne l'avait regardé et vu encore; puis encore une fois, la plupart des gens étaient au travail. Il a maladroitement positionné la porte près de la clôture de la cour avant, et a poussé à travers elle avec facilité. Au moins cette porte n'est pas coincée. Il a commencé à marcher sur le trottoir, avant de décider qu'il serait préférable d'en sortir, il a choisi une avenue plus ouverte et a commencé à marcher sur la route tranquille. Il a vu divers gros morceaux de matériel de chaque côté dont il ne savait pas quoi faire. Quel endroit étrange c'est maintenant... Redmond était derrière un bar, regardant le corps délicieux qui se tenait devant lui. Il a dû manger d'une façon ou d'une autre, et ces prostituées avaient fait de merveilleux repas. Ils sont sortis à la recherche de quelque chose de différent, apparemment, de la façon dont l'un d'eux avait presque crié avant qu'il n'ait rapidement mangé sa tête. Ce serait son cinquième meurtre cette semaine. Elle lui a demandé impatiemment. Oui, bien sûr. Pardonnez-moi, il s'est approché d'elle. Ferme les yeux, ma chère. Alors qu'elle fermait les yeux, sa tête se transformait en sa vraie forme, la consommant rapidement en 20 secondes. Elle n'a jamais su ce qui l'a frappée. Alors qu'il sortait de l'allié, il a remarqué une petite tache sur sa chemise et s'est froncé. - Une pagaille? Je ne fais jamais de désordre... - Il a essayé de l'essuyer, en vain. Il l'a ignoré à partir de ce moment-là.

Redmond Drayer Surviving Leviathan ---------------------------------------------- ”Dick Roman fit his name in more ways than one. Now that he’s gone, I can do things the right way...” ---------------------------------------------- Basics Height: 5’6 Age: Immortal (first creation of God, so… fits the age rather well) Gender: Takes the form of a male. Body Type: Extended Personality Not the strongest of Leviathans, Redmond has always disagreed with Roman’s policy of senseless or even systematic assimilation of all into a single, controllable host. Redmond prefers chaos and lack of unity; something which makes it easier for him to act without those knowing. Unfortunately for him, he was one of the last of his kind to have been created and therefore one of the youngest; that leaves him at a disadvantage compared to others. However, with his old hated boss gone, he has explored new possibilities - including the expansion of his own inherent powers to include more… celestial representations. Not that this has worked yet, but he’s not going to give up. It’s rather difficult to stop him, so that has only helped to boost his confidence. He is more sadistic than other Leviathan‘s and may attempt to deliver beings expressing their powers in overly obvious ways (read: OP players) an “entertaining” first class ticket to his main course dinner plate. That said, he’s not stupid; he can cover his tracks well from the average hunter and can fool other beings that may or may not even know what he is. Backstory One of the last Leviathans to be created, he was more of a grunt power wise for the strongest of his kind, known as Dick Roman most recently. However, he always secretly despised how the others adhered to a policy of combining “Illuminati” style domination of others with dull feeding. Redmond liked chaos and picking his victims that had the most chance of realizing just where the threat would be coming from. Purgatory was his favorite place. It had all the chaos he could want; he was top of the food chain and enjoyed himself even as the others hated it. That made him the opposite of the other Leviathans when taken out of Purgatory by Castiel - he half-heartedly took up the side task of hunting and eating Castiel even as he was sent to take out others who were providing a fuss, such as the hunter Frank. Alas, he never met up with his goal, and tended to be elsewhere when the real action was happening. It did, however, save him from being one of those sucked to Purgatory by the death of Roman; he was far out of range and was one of the few to be left wandering the world. When he heard of Roman’s death, he hadn’t been so happy since he first discovered the nature of Purgatory. he went up in Alaska for a while, killing hunters and those who strayed off the trail, before picking up on the news of the “hot spot”, as the contacts who brought it to his attention called it. It was at that point that he decided to head to Fremont, the hotspot that had been called by his contacts “the big one” (at least, before he cleaned up loose ends and ate the said contacts…) Family If you’re Leviathan, you’re his brother (or sister?). Other -This character will be mostly killing NPC’s, but if you want to meet up with him in the course of roleplay to have the experience of fighting (and quite possibly dying to) a Leviathan, feel free. -If characters step way too out of line power wise or blatantly kill other player’s characters without any sort of advance warning or discussion, they might wake up (or turn around) to find a less than attractive mouth coming at them… -All normal ways to disable a Leviathan apply, and are a little more effective than on others if anything. At this point, nobody can make him “bib” because nobody has the authority. -The one known way to kill one isn’t something that’s going to happen in 5 posts. You can do it, just go with a little advance warning and make the path to death “logical” (as the supernatural universe can be). -To anyone who doesn’t know what he is, he is a monster (if they identify him as the killer). Keep in mind he can shapeshift to the form of those he touches, so one can lose the path without much difficulty (although I won’t make it stupidly impossible to track him, as that would just be boring roleplay). -his body looks like that of one of his particular favorite victims... -Yes, he can eat an Archangel. The above applies, though, and no Archangel will be eaten unless the GM steps in as God and destines my guy to mysteriously locate them to serve as a first course meal. Kaephypton Angelic Agent ---------------------------------------------- ”Without discipline, even the Angels can fall. Castiel taught us that.” ---------------------------------------------- (as of current host) Basics Height: 5’3 Age: Immortal (Among the first beings created by god, although younger than all Archangels) Gender: Identifies as male via his host. Body Type: Relatively fit, nothing special in that regard. Extended Personality The classic agent of heaven. He doesn’t understand just about any human convention to ever be created, having spent his time in heaven as more of a “poster child” and someone on hold, usually sent to 1v1 demons. He’s scornful of anyone who doesn’t uphold the highest of angelic ideals and feels dirty after a while of interacting with humans. He stands out like a sore thumb and tends to only identify demons and pursue them, or identify a tablet if he ever comes across one. His discipline is known across heaven, and to demons as well. Backstory <insert generic Angel life story here> The only thing to his existence that makes him stand out is his practice killing demons that heaven sends him to take out. He was sent to the mortal realm to find tablets by his superior, Talthael, who serves a small network of angels following the split in the Host’s leadership across various factions. He is, as of now, deemed “incorruptible” - the whole reason why he was sent in the first place. His life story was rather generic simply because he did everything he was supposed to, and not much more. The one thing in particular that is a soer subject is Michael, who he had looked up to as an idol until he vanished from Heaven. He holds a grudge gainst the winchesters and anyone who had connections with them, hear and far, fro their purpose in his fall. Family The angels. Other -He’s a practiced Demon killer. Anyone playing a demon must be extra careful to not bump into him, as he can identify demons very quickly (and demons are ultimately low on the scale compared to an angel). -He might be a comic relief character simply due to his complete old fashioned nature (the last time he interacted with humans was in the 1300’s, and still holds a “duel” mindset when it comes to solving disputes) and complete uselessness with modern technology. Anyone who introduces him to a computer better make a good impression, otherwise he might consider it a demon and hunt those too. -He’s not very friendly and especially nasty towards characters he feels are particularly sinful, and he has a good idea on the ones that genuinely are. -His angelic blade is specially designed to look like the kind used in the 1300’s. Characters should try not to laugh if he challenges them to a duel. -He has acquired his host by answering the prayer of a human businessman in his dreams. Nick Schaeffer Hunter ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ”I’m getting a little tired of being head-butted by overly horny ghosts that decided it was a good idea to bury their bones in a sealed coffin of concrete.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ <Insert Applicable Image Here> Basics Height: 5’4 Age: 53 Gender: Male Body Type: Well kept up, yet feeling the years. Extended Personality His days in hunting have allowed him to meet a large variety of people and a possibly larger variety of ghosts, vampires, skinwalkers… you name it. He doesn’t get surprised by much and counts himself lucky for having lived as long as he has - about three friends of his remain that he had met in his early years. Many hunters would have died by now. He is somewhat paranoid and always checks his guests, but once they are confirmed and if they are friends, he has a softer, more fatherly side. Sometimes he ends up rambling, which tends to only stop when the other person brings him back on topic. He firmly considers the idea of “an innocent monster” a load of bullshit and says that even if one committed a good deed, they would have a considerably longer rap sheet of dark deeds to account for. He’s a good hunter with considerable knowledge, but isn’t close to being the fastest anymore and will likely find his end in not too long. Backstory Born into a hunting family, Shaeffer grew up in a paranoid household that only trusted those who had just been tested and were known as family friends. Everyone else could be taken as an enemy. Schaeffer started hunting with his father when he was only 16, learning the ropes and doing quite a bit of reading in the family library. When his father died, he managed to hunt down the werewolf who had killed him… but the events surrounding that showdown are unclear. Some say that the werewolf is still alive… After that, Schaeffer took a much more active role in hunting, forming a small group of associates, in which he tended to be the “lookup” guy (the one to read the books and figure out how to take <x> creature down). The group evolved into a small network, in which he met various hunters, such as Otis Yates. The original team had all died before Shaeffer was 45 years old. He now takes an interest in Fermont, as from what he had read out of his library… the tablets were a quite big dea, although rather vaguely described.. His goal is to retrieve them and then find a Prophet to translate them in order to “win” the previously thought unbeatable war against monsters. Family His father, Hendrick Schaeffer, died when his son was 20. He never knew his mother, Melissa Schaeffer. Other than that, he was an only child and didn’t have very much family. He did have an uncle, George Burnett, who was also a hunter until he died at 46 chasing down a Wraith. Other -He's not too strong in melee at this point, but knows quite a bit. -He won't be recalling word-for-word as he can't exactly load up a library into his ford and bring all thousand or so books along. Or at least, he's too lazy. -He's older than most hunters live to see. Basically, he's testing fate by living this long. -Interacting characters who he doesn't know to be a monster right off the bat will be subject to the "silver knife" and "holy water" tests. He carries both around. Naturally, he's reasonable about it... not going to go too well to test everyone in a hotel, but if you want to get in the room, he's going to damn well test you. Talthael Seraphim Angelic Faction Leader ---------------------------------------------- ”Heaven is in a state of war, and it needs a guiding hand if it’s ever going to go somewhere. Me, I wouldn’t mind being that hand.” ---------------------------------------------- Basics Height: 5’6 Age: Immortal (angelic) Gender: Genderless as he appears in his true form to all angels. Body Type: Extended Personality Slimy at best, a deceiver at worst, he likes to think he’s in charge - but in fact, his faction hasn’t been doing well lately, losing ground to Naomi and other influential leaders; being reduced to few angels remaining in his ranks. He tends to make things look like they are considerably better than they actually are. He thinks that the tablets will give him the ultimate upper hand in the battle for leadership. Backstory A senior angel just below the rank of Archangel, he has been an influential member of Heaven for many millennia - although he has lagged behind others, preferring to work in the background instead of being on the front line of affairs. His primary authority came in the form of Michael’s support and approval. As such, Talthael was almost entirely dependent on him, and lost ground in the mad rush for power in Heaven to Naomi and others, losing support of all Saraphim that had once been under his command. He now holds a legacy of being Michael’s pawn, five odd angels (albeit, one of them is actually fairly powerful when it comes to the run-of-the-mill angel), and a few loose artifacts that he picked up. It is now the main reason as to why he wants the Angel tablet - if he can get his hand on the most relevant tablet to heaven, his status will be boosted considerably. Family The Angels Other -He is the superior of Kaephypton. -His interactions will mostly be in heaven; there is a low chance of him doing things for himself. -He might send someone else in the form of a minor character to assist the cause. -He’s always been a slimy character, being distinctly independent from the archangels while appeasing them when possible. He’s not very popular with them as a result. -In terms of angelic faction leaders, he’s rather low on the scale. That said, he is a potent angel in his own right. This will consist of NPC's that are used to make particular interactions function that can be taken over by other players, killed, etc as they wish, and ones that I won't bother with a full CS because they were made for something specific (ie, a ghost created to give hunters a little something to do) that other players can't control. NPC's will be marked as such IC if I use them, so ya know what you can godmod. None at the moment.

Zerena a fermé la porte de sa voiture derrière elle et s'est dirigée vers un café voisin, son sac d'ordinateur accroché à son épaule. Elle venait d'arriver cet après-midi et n'avait même pas encore trouvé une chambre pour rester. Elle était déjà en route quand elle a appris que le travail avait été traité et a décidé de partir en ville. Autant avoir une bonne nuit de sommeil et un jour chercher une autre observation. Une cloche scintille au-dessus de sa tête lorsqu'elle entre dans le magasin, signalant aux employés que quelqu'un est entré. Elle a supposé qu'ils n'étaient pas trop occupés puisqu'elle était positive, ce qui les rendait fous en partant toutes les deux secondes. Elle est montée au comptoir, "Juste un Américain", dit-elle alors qu'elle a commencé à creuser dans son sac pour de la monnaie de rechange. "Bien sûr," dit la barista d'un ton de croustillant, "Puis-je avoir votre nom?" – Melissa, dit Zerena sans hésitation. Elle détestait donner son vrai nom aux gens... pas dans ses affaires, qui savaient qui pouvait écouter. Elle attend jusqu'à ce que son verre soit fait et lui soit remis dans une tasse en papier avec un couvercle, Melissa griffonnée sur le côté. Elle est passée à une table et s'est assise, ouvrant son ordinateur portable et a commencé à taper. Fremont semblait être un point chaud pour les démons... On dirait que trouver un emploi près d'ici ne serait pas difficile... juste pour trouver un endroit où rester. Madeleine se tenait devant une vanité, regardant ses cheveux. Elle s'est cueillie les lèvres avant de cueillir un petit tube sur le bâton à lèvres de la commode et a lentement traîné le bâton rouge rubis sur ses lèvres. Elle les a frottés ensemble avant de laisser éclater un son satisfaisant. Elle retourna le bâton de lèvre à sa place et tourna lentement autour, "Eh bien, j'ai eu un grand temps, mais je devrais vraiment aller", dit-elle d'une voix épouvantable aux deux cadavres dans le lit. Elle avait trébuché sur la paire dans un bar et les avait suivis. Elle avait regardé l'homme enlever sa bague avant qu'il commence à frapper la jeune blonde au bar. Elle a souri, "Merci pour le rouge à lèvres, l'amour... grande couleur." Elle s'est cognée les cheveux sur l'épaule, elle est sortie de l'appartement, elle a pris les clés en sortant. Elle ferma doucement la porte derrière elle avant de la verrouiller, l'odeur de la chair pourrie prendrait un moment pour parcourir le sol avant que quelqu'un aille vérifier la chère Jane Doe. Parfois, la pire douleur que vous causeriez à un humain était de les laisser trébucher sur un corps mort. Il a fait des choses aux gens, il les a brisés et quelques-uns ont même cassé, ayant besoin de voir ce regard à nouveau. Une fois dehors, elle a jeté les clés dans le caniveau et a continué sur son chemin joyeux.

RAGUEL ARCHANGEL OF JUSTICE, FAIRNESS, VENGEANCE, AND HARMONY "I LAY TO REST THE WICKED" "ASSBUTT" BASICS CHARACTER FULL NAME: Raguel NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Reggie HEIGHT: 5' 9" BODY TYPE: Mesomorph, athletic, bottom heavy. AGE: Appears about 26 GENDER: None; goes by "she" PERSONALITY: Raguel is just as clueless as most of her angel brethren, but she finds humanity more fascinating than most. She's particularly interested in their need for pleasure and self satisfaction. She's ruthless and righteous, like any good angel, but she secretly has a mind of her own. She hasn't met her prophet yet but she deeply wants to. She almost wishes something bad would happen to him/her so that she could appear to save the day. Her main traits are basically summed up in her title. Justice and Vengeance: she tries her very hardest to make sure everyone gets what they deserve. Fairness and Harmony: she loves conflict, but not stupid conflict, so she strives to keep order. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: God SIBLINGS: All angels EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Pamela Vander (the prophet she guards) HISTORY (OPTIONAL): None yet, I develop characters through roleplay. EXTRA INFORMATION: N/A ABYZU CROSSROADS DEMON "BOY, THERE ISN'T ROOM IN YOUR PANTS." (picture is.. under construction) BASICS APPEARANCE: short, fire engine red hair, red eyes, dark skin. CHARACTER FULL NAME: Abyzu NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Abby HEIGHT: 5' 9" BODY TYPE: Ectomorph, average AGE: Appears about 32 GENDER: None; goes by "she" PERSONALITY: Abyzu is the best employee Crowley could ever ask for. She's sadistic and hateful, her deals are always sealed quickly and quietly, and she enjoys pain. So much pain. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: N/A EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: N/A HISTORY: Abby takes the souls of children. Her power comes from these souls. EXTRA INFORMATION: She has a thing for flirting. PAMELA VANDER PROPHET OF THE LORD "WAIT.. WHAT?" (picture is under construction) BASICS APPEARANCE: Portly, short, mousy, silver hair, one green eye, one yellow eye, crooked smile. CHARACTER FULL NAME: Pamela Vander NICK NAME OR ALIAS: None HEIGHT: 5' 6" BODY TYPE: Mesomorph, skinny, out of shape AGE: 14 GENDER: Female PERSONALITY: Pamela is always very confused. She doesn't do very well in school and she has a hard time concentrating on one thing at a time. She has a habit of refusing to do things she doesn't want to. She's a little lazy and kind of selfish, but her heart is in the right place. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: Daren Vander (he won't be mentioned) EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Raguel (the Archangel who guards her) HISTORY (OPTIONAL): EXTRA INFORMATION: Pamela secretly got a tattoo of a half moon with a wolf's paw for her brother.

Les lumières à l'intérieur de la station d'essence étaient faibles, et il était très vite vide. Il y avait deux employés au bureau, l'un bumming, et l'autre dur au travail de restocker les cigarettes. Il n'y avait qu'un seul client, et c'était un gentleman très intimidant, connu sous le nom d'Otis Yates. L'enquêteur privé se contentait de remplir deux tasses de café et d'attraper un sac de cacahuètes, passant par là. "Est-ce que ce sera tout?" C'est la question habituelle de la caissière. -- Oui, merci. Était la réponse concise d'Otis. Il a payé en espèces et a effectué l'opération rapidement, sans prendre sa monnaie. "Prenez soin de vous, entendez-vous?" Il a dit, très sérieusement. La caissière a fait un simple clin d'œil et l'autre employé l'a ignoré. Il est sorti, marchant à un rythme tranquille, et se dirigeant vers une figure trop familière pour lui. C'était son vieil ami, Schaeffer. Une fois un simple contact, jusqu'à ce qu'il ait appris le vrai but de l'homme, il y a si longtemps, quand il est devenu un chasseur. "Ce n'est pas un chai latte, ni un cappuccino, ni aucune autre connerie. Tout droit noir, un café de 99 cents de la station-service." Il a tenu une tasse à Schaeffer. "Glad d'avoir un allié sur cette affaire merdique." Il s'est accueilli à une place sur le banc, à côté de Schaeffer et a siroté sa propre tasse de café. Il a respiré dans l'odeur et a pris à la vue des jolies filles, "Trop souvent les démons m'ont attiré avec les femmes. Je suppose que c'est la façon la plus efficace." Il s'est moqué.

Full Name: Otis Yates Nickname or Alias: Oats, Otis Atherton Height: 5'11" Body Type: Fit but aged Age: 35 Gender: Male Personality: He knows his job and his limits. That won't stop him from fighting. He's harty, but aging. He can kick asses every which way, but he's taken a lot more beatings lately and his hunting has taken it's toll on his body. They say hunters age faster than other human beings, and Otis is living proof of that. He's wise and experienced, respectable and professional. He has a good base of connections to hunters and other people useful for information. It's rare that he'll go into any situation half-cocked. Friends and Family: He has two brothers, and both have become hunters. Most of his friends are other hunters and his contacts around the country. He also has a cousin who is a hunter who simply goes by the name Moser. Parents: Jason and Catherine Yates Siblings: Arvin Yates (younger), Steiner Yates(youngest). Extended family: Moser (cousin). Important Others: A good hunter buddy of his is simply called Schaeffer. He has many others. History: He became a private investigator and from there it didn't take long before he became aware of the supernatural and finally became a hunter. As far as he knows, him and his brothers are first generation hunters. His cousin is also a first generation hunter. Extra Information: I'm sure I'll add some more stuff here.

Après 5-10 minutes de s'asseoir là et de regarder son ordinateur comme si cela surgissait avec toutes les réponses à toutes les questions et les problèmes auxquels il faisait face, il a donné un autre soupir. Plus lourd cette fois. Il s'est poussé hors de la chaise qu'il était dans son manteau. Je le mets tout en glissant sur ses chaussures. Une chose dont Ian ne pouvait se briser était l'habitude de fumer qu'il avait. Ce qui, pour lui, était bien meilleur que l'habitude de boire dans laquelle son père était après la mort de sa mère d'un démon. Les parents d'Ian avaient cherché des partenaires bien avant qu'ils ne se marient et ne l'aient eu, lui seul. Le seul enfant. Il aurait pu avoir un frère si ce n'était pas pour ce qui s'était passé il y a toutes ces années. C'est peut-être la raison pour laquelle le père de Ian a été si dur sur lui à propos de tout et l'a formé à peu près pour devenir un chasseur. Maintenant qu'il était seul, il ne pensait pas qu'il faisait un très bon travail. L'idée qu'il était une déception lourde dans son esprit et la raison pour laquelle il allumait une cigarette quand il marchait dehors dans l'air d'hiver croustillant.

IAN COSDEN HUNTER "Small tricks won't work on me... Sweetheart" "Dude!?! Really!?! Loosen up a little!!" Full name: Ian Cosden Alias: Jackson Wright Height: 5'11" Body type: Thin yet muscular Age: Just barely 22 Gender: Male MAYLA BETHELL SKINWALKER "Have you seen the world through the eyes of a dog??... No!! Then don't assume you know anything." Skinwalker form: Full name: Mayla Bethell Nickname: May Heigth: 4'11" Body type: Thin and a little lanky Age: 10 Gender: Female

Micheal et Tod étaient arrivés il y a environ une semaine dans cette petite ville. Micheal a été dit par Alice que c'est s'il trouverait son Ingrédient X. C'était essentiel pour que ses recherches se poursuivent. Tom et lui ont acheté une maison et ont observé la foule pour s'assurer que la ville est en sécurité pour la chasse. C'était l'idée de Tod, Micheal déteste attendre et a été en train de couver toute la semaine. Alors que Tom part à 9 heures du matin et ne revient pas avant 10 heures du soir, faisant sa "surveillance". Quand Tod a annoncé qu'il était sûr pour eux de commencer Micheal était ravi. Alors qu'ils quittaient la maison et se rendaient en ville, Tod exprimait ses inquiétudes. "Nous devrions partir." Tod a dit en conduisant. "Pourquoi je ferais ça?" Micheal a dit en jouant avec une paire de menottes chinoises. "J'ai payé tout cet argent pour nous l'avoir-Attends ne me dites pas votre peur de toutes les choses qui vont tomber dans la nuit dans cette petite ville." Il a dit avec condescendance. "Tout ce que je dis, c'est que si nous voulons rester, nous devons être plus prudents. Je n'ai pas besoin d'un remake de ce qui s'est passé la dernière fois." Tod a dit avec un regard sévère et Micheal rougi durement. "C'était un accident. Je pensais qu'on n'allait pas en parler à nouveau." Micheal a dit que des souvenirs étaient inondés de ce qui s'est passé la dernière fois qu'il s'est rendu dans une ville. " Je promets que les choses ne devraient pas être si mauvaises à nouveau. Allons-nous maintenant?" Il a dit avec confiance pendant qu'il jouait encore avec son jouet. "Nous avons besoin de manger et je sais que vous êtes juste plein d'excitation, donc nous allons aussi explorer." Tod a regardé Micheal tout le temps qu'il a dit ceci puis a regardé la route quand il a fini. La route dans le silence et a continué leur route dans la ville. Une fois qu'ils ont garé Tod pointé vers un restaurant voisin qui avait de la bonne nourriture. Tod est sorti de la voiture et a attendu que Micheal suive. Quand il regarda en arrière, Micheal tenait les mains en l'air qui étaient encore coincées dans les menottes. Tod s'est cogné et est passé et l'a laissé sortir du siège arrière. Les marchaient ensemble alors que la neige tombait sur eux. Micheal pouvait sentir que toutes les énergies différentes commencent à partir du monstre voisin. Tandis que l'homme marchait sur Micheal, il s'en est pris à l'homme et l'a effrayé de peur et d'excuses silencieuses. Micheal hait les humains parce qu'ils lynchaient et brûlaient ses parents vivants pour ce qu'ils étaient. Il y a très peu de gens qu'il puisse tolérer longtemps, et même alors il a une démangeaison pour les tuer. Il voit le plus comme source de recherche et c'est ainsi qu'il les utilise, comme sujets de test. Une fois, il a organisé un dîner et a invité les humains les plus importants qu'il ait pu trouver dans la région. Il a pris chacune de leurs boissons avec une potion différente. Ils sont tous morts avant la fin de la nuit. Les journaux l'appelaient The Dinner Party From Hell. Il n'a fait cela que pour s'amuser et un peu de données pour voir comment différents ingrédients affectent les humains. Quand ils ont atteint le restaurant, Tod a dû ouvrir à nouveau la porte et Micheal est entré. Tod pouvait sentir l'odeur d'un démon dans l'établissement. Cela le mettait à l'écart, il savait qu'il y en avait quelques-uns en ville, mais il ne s'attendait pas à en rencontrer un si tôt. Ils ont pris place dans une cabine avec vue sur la rue et attendaient une serveuse pour prendre leurs ordres. Micheal jouait encore avec ses menottes pour passer le temps, mais après qu'ils eurent fini leur nourriture, il dirait à Tod qu'il est temps de commencer leur chasse.

Micheal Von Jence CHARACTER FULL NAME: Micheal Von Jence AGE, SPECIES: 459 years old, Fairy (Wicked Witch) NICK NAME OR ALIAS: MJ (The Witch Doctor) HEIGHT: 5'10 BODY TYPE: Toned, Slim AGE: Looks about 18 GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: Micheal is a meticulous intellectual, the "scientist" of the fairy community. He is highly narcissistic and extremely flamboyant, tending to make lewd, disturbing comments about people he doesn't like. Micheal is quite sadistic, viewing others as little more than research material. He thinks poorly of humans, hoping someone will someday wipe them all out of existence. He thinks of himself as an actor, treating his battles like theatrical performances, especially when toying with his victims. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: N/A PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: Jon(Younger Brother), Anna(Older Sister) EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Another Witch (good) named Alice, the only other one he can tolerate. HISTORY: Micheal was born at the start of the slave trade in the 16th century. He grew up in luxury and endless help. Everyone in his family are witches and he was no exception. As a child he would bully human children with his gifts and play endless tricks on his siblings. When he got older he learned to harness his gifts and became a fully fledged witch. He decided to live the life of a scientist and experiment on what ever he can. This is were his dark nature grew from. The only one who has ever seen the "good" side of him is his friend Alice. In his 300s he tamed an Arachne named Tod and they have been companions ever since. EXTRA INFORMATION: His 100 year old pet snake. Tom James CHARACTER FULL NAME: Tom James AGE, SPECIES: 200 years old, Arachne NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Tommy (The Golden One) HEIGHT: 6'2 BODY TYPE: Muscular, Toned, Rugged AGE: Looks about early 30s GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: Tom is an honest man. He has never been one to shy from the truth, and is always FRIENDS AND FAMILY: Micheal (his owner) PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: N/A EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: His maker Jeana. HISTORY: Tom was turned when he was 30. He was at his birthday party and Jeana turned him as a "gift". He has been miserable ever since. Having to fed on humanity on a weekly basis and not having any support. At one point he even tired to become a wanderer. Going from place to place. Trying not to feed but failing miserably. He never truly let go of his human nature until he went south. Down in the south he met Micheal. At first he dismissed him as some rude punk but he never wold have thought he was a 200 year old fairy. He began to hang around Micheal even more and earned the name pest. Then one day he saved his life and Micheal rewarded him by buying him. He told Tom that in exchange for his life he would make sure he could be himself and never be lonely, and they have been together ever since. EXTRA INFORMATION: His makers spider type was, Black Widow, so he inherited the Gold Orb Weaver Genes. His maker Jeana. She can also be used an NPC.

Zerena a fermé son ordinateur et l'a remis dans son sac. Il y avait un motel pas trop loin du café. En prenant son café, elle a tiré son sac sur son épaule et s'est enfuie. Le lecteur était rapide et le motel n'était pas difficile à trouver grâce au grand panneau «VACANCY» qui était presque aveuglant. Stationnement aussi près de l'immeuble principal qu'elle pouvait, elle s'est envolée et s'est dirigée vers le bureau. C'était un petit endroit sournois, un endroit que l'on disait à la fille de se tenir à l'écart de son âge. Cependant, la chasse n'a pas vraiment payé trop bien la laissant avec assez d'argent pour le gaz et la nourriture... Un endroit pour dormir au-delà du siège arrière de sa voiture était vraiment un luxe. Une autre bonne chose à propos de ces endroits était qu'ils la laissaient payer en liquide. Elle n'a payé que pour la nuit, qui savait où elle serait demain et a pris la clé de l'homme dans la cabine avant qu'elle ne rentre dans la nuit. Elle a fait un arrêt de fosse à sa voiture, en rassemblant un petit sac de duffel et son sac d'ordinateur portable, avant qu'elle se dirige vers sa chambre. Il y avait un type qui fumait à l'extérieur de sa chambre et Zerena l'a rapidement regardé avant qu'elle ne le passe, sans dire un mot. Au lieu de cela, elle a marché à côté de la porte de sa propre chambre et a essayé de rentrer à l'intérieur le plus rapidement possible.

IAN COSDEN HUNTER "Small tricks won't work on me... Sweetheart" "Dude!?! Really!?! Loosen up a little!!" Full name: Ian Cosden Alias: Jackson Wright Height: 5'11" Body type: Thin yet muscular Age: Just barely 22 Gender: Male MAYLA BETHELL SKINWALKER "Have you seen the world through the eyes of a dog??... No!! Then don't assume you know anything." Skinwalker form: Full name: Mayla Bethell Nickname: May Heigth: 4'11" Body type: Thin and a little lanky Age: 10 Gender: Female

- Oui.

.

Tu sais quoi, j'irai tout de suite cette fois. C'était une journée normale au casino, il y avait une petite quantité de gens à propos, l'alcool circulait et les femmes mouillaient autour. Et la main était presque toujours en sa faveur. Au moins, c'était une journée normale pour Atlas. Jouer au poker était l'une de ses choses préférées à faire, il avait un visage d'enfer de poker, et pouvait presque toujours dire quand les gens bluffaient. Ce n'était presque pas juste. Mais ce qui n'était vraiment pas juste, c'est quand tu es entré et que la seule autre personne qui avait encore de l'argent est entrée aussi. Et il semblait avoir une meilleure main. Mais Atlas n'a jamais perdu une partie de poker. Jamais. En prenant un autre coup de scotch, il l'a descendu, il a retourné ses cartes pour montrer la table. Un 2 et un 7, correspondant à rien. Son adversaire avait une paire de reines. Mais, il semblait que personne ne pouvait s'en souvenir. Ce qu'ils se souvenaient, cependant, de ce qu'il avait 3 d'une sorte de rois. Et donc Atlas a gagné le pot, et a recueilli son argent qu'il a gagné pour lui-même. Ce n'est pas comme s'il en avait vraiment besoin, c'était sympa de jouer et d'obtenir une série de gains. Cependant, la maison n'aimait pas ça. Ils pensaient toujours qu'il trichait et réparait les cartes, payait le dealer. Mais Atlas ne ferait jamais ça. Après avoir encaissé ses gains, il semblait que Atlas disparaissait dans l'air. Personne ne pouvait le trouver, c'est comme s'il avait disparu. Ou il était devenu invisible et il est parti. Ce qui était agréable, c'était qu'il pouvait utiliser une combinaison de changement de forme et de biokinésie pour le rendre différent chaque fois qu'il venait. Son apparence normale, Atlas Cage, n'a jamais été vue au bar ou au casino. Après tout, il a dû garder une image. Les humains ont pris le moral pire que les anges parfois, c'était un peu effrayant ce que les médias publics ont fait aux gens. Levant les yeux, un étrange éclair de lumière, assez proche d'Atlas, apparut dans le ciel. "Ne me dites pas qu'ils ont envoyé un autre connard d'ange ici pour me montrer l'erreur de mes manières... Ça n'atteint jamais personne loin." Il se mute, se fourre les mains dans ses poches de jean et se dirige vers d'où vient la source. Atlas a pensé tôt ou tard qu'il devrait le rencontrer, et ce serait préférable quand aucun paparazzi ou quoi que ce soit traquait Atlas. Après un peu de scannage, il a trouvé un homme seul marchant sur le trottoir, semblant regarder autour de lui dans une sorte de se demander amusement, comme il n'avait jamais vu un trottoir avant. Il pouvait évidemment dire que c'était un ange, mais... il n'en avait jamais rencontré un qui apparaissait aussi stupide. "Hé mon pote, tu as perdu?" Atlas a demandé, allant à son côté droit et marchant avec lui.

CHARACTER NAME: Atlas, Arch Angel of Balance, Order, and Chaos AGE, SPECIES: Thousands of years, Arch Angel "Bring order and balance to the world, no matter the cost." BASICS CHARACTER FULL NAME: Atlas Cage NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Atlas HEIGHT: 6'3 BODY TYPE: Muscular, toned and fit AGE: Looks to be about 23 GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: Has good morales but will go about his duties as he sees fit. It doesn't matter if he has to kill in order to get a job accomplished, the divine order is above all. Other than this he is usually a bit of a flirt, sarcastic, know-it-all, kind of an asshole to most, but does have a sweet and caring side to him (Although rarely anybody gets there) FRIENDS AND FAMILY: N/A PARENTS: God SIBLINGS: All other Angels EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: N/A HISTORY: Atlas is a powerful archangel who is sort of the outcast of the bunch. He resides most of his time on earth, holding up justice and the order there and isn't too heavenly sometimes. Always been a loner, he spends his time flirting with woman, drinking, gambling, just having fun and being reckless through the body he attained of a wealthy playboy millionaire who was heavily religious and wanted nothing more than a very powerful Arch Angel to embody him. For this most of the other angels do not take a liking to Atlas, but he is one of the most powerful and does uphold their morales and help fight in their name better than most, so they tolerate him. EXTRA INFORMATION: Has the abilities of an Arch Angel.

Schaeffer a fait un clin d'œil amical à Yates. Cela faisait un peu de temps, et il n'était pas surpris quant à l'attrait de ce point chaud particulier. Il n'y avait pas beaucoup de chasseurs qui lui correspondaient tout à fait; il semblait qu'il y avait une population croissante de jolis chasseurs de garçons. Néanmoins, il fallait prendre des précautions - il y avait pas mal de monstres qui n'aimeraient rien de plus que de prendre la forme d'un associé qu'on lui avait vu avec quelques fois. J'espère que vous n'avez pas l'esprit,,, il a dit dans sa forme habituelle de salut tout en passant une petite lame d'argent et une coupe d'eau de secours de sa poche de manteau vers lui. Il avait trois autres flacons; il devait en obtenir plus car son appartement était tout sorti. Hé, mon pote, tu as perdu? Kaephypton tourna légèrement pour regarder la figure derrière lui, marchant sur le sentier plus étroit. Mort? Non... non... mon chemin est clair., il a fait un geste sur la route vide, bien qu'il ait dû admettre qu'il n'était pas sûr de ce qu'il ferait à la fin. Il a continué à marcher dans de longs pas, pensant que l'homme derrière lui était loin d'être humain... mais loin du démon non plus. Ange? Peut-être. Alors qu'il descendait une intersection, il entendit une voiture qui se dirigeait vers lui. Il tourna et regarda la chose monstrueuse avec deux grands yeux jaunes et une rangée de dents grillées, complètement activées. Il a tiré sa longue lame d'ange et a crié, "Face-moi, démon infâme!" comme il est venu en vitesse sur lui, secouant un peu avec le conducteur ivre se rendant à peine compte qu'il y avait quelqu'un en mousse de lui.

Redmond Drayer Surviving Leviathan ---------------------------------------------- ”Dick Roman fit his name in more ways than one. Now that he’s gone, I can do things the right way...” ---------------------------------------------- Basics Height: 5’6 Age: Immortal (first creation of God, so… fits the age rather well) Gender: Takes the form of a male. Body Type: Extended Personality Not the strongest of Leviathans, Redmond has always disagreed with Roman’s policy of senseless or even systematic assimilation of all into a single, controllable host. Redmond prefers chaos and lack of unity; something which makes it easier for him to act without those knowing. Unfortunately for him, he was one of the last of his kind to have been created and therefore one of the youngest; that leaves him at a disadvantage compared to others. However, with his old hated boss gone, he has explored new possibilities - including the expansion of his own inherent powers to include more… celestial representations. Not that this has worked yet, but he’s not going to give up. It’s rather difficult to stop him, so that has only helped to boost his confidence. He is more sadistic than other Leviathan‘s and may attempt to deliver beings expressing their powers in overly obvious ways (read: OP players) an “entertaining” first class ticket to his main course dinner plate. That said, he’s not stupid; he can cover his tracks well from the average hunter and can fool other beings that may or may not even know what he is. Backstory One of the last Leviathans to be created, he was more of a grunt power wise for the strongest of his kind, known as Dick Roman most recently. However, he always secretly despised how the others adhered to a policy of combining “Illuminati” style domination of others with dull feeding. Redmond liked chaos and picking his victims that had the most chance of realizing just where the threat would be coming from. Purgatory was his favorite place. It had all the chaos he could want; he was top of the food chain and enjoyed himself even as the others hated it. That made him the opposite of the other Leviathans when taken out of Purgatory by Castiel - he half-heartedly took up the side task of hunting and eating Castiel even as he was sent to take out others who were providing a fuss, such as the hunter Frank. Alas, he never met up with his goal, and tended to be elsewhere when the real action was happening. It did, however, save him from being one of those sucked to Purgatory by the death of Roman; he was far out of range and was one of the few to be left wandering the world. When he heard of Roman’s death, he hadn’t been so happy since he first discovered the nature of Purgatory. he went up in Alaska for a while, killing hunters and those who strayed off the trail, before picking up on the news of the “hot spot”, as the contacts who brought it to his attention called it. It was at that point that he decided to head to Fremont, the hotspot that had been called by his contacts “the big one” (at least, before he cleaned up loose ends and ate the said contacts…) Family If you’re Leviathan, you’re his brother (or sister?). Other -This character will be mostly killing NPC’s, but if you want to meet up with him in the course of roleplay to have the experience of fighting (and quite possibly dying to) a Leviathan, feel free. -If characters step way too out of line power wise or blatantly kill other player’s characters without any sort of advance warning or discussion, they might wake up (or turn around) to find a less than attractive mouth coming at them… -All normal ways to disable a Leviathan apply, and are a little more effective than on others if anything. At this point, nobody can make him “bib” because nobody has the authority. -The one known way to kill one isn’t something that’s going to happen in 5 posts. You can do it, just go with a little advance warning and make the path to death “logical” (as the supernatural universe can be). -To anyone who doesn’t know what he is, he is a monster (if they identify him as the killer). Keep in mind he can shapeshift to the form of those he touches, so one can lose the path without much difficulty (although I won’t make it stupidly impossible to track him, as that would just be boring roleplay). -his body looks like that of one of his particular favorite victims... -Yes, he can eat an Archangel. The above applies, though, and no Archangel will be eaten unless the GM steps in as God and destines my guy to mysteriously locate them to serve as a first course meal. Kaephypton Angelic Agent ---------------------------------------------- ”Without discipline, even the Angels can fall. Castiel taught us that.” ---------------------------------------------- (as of current host) Basics Height: 5’3 Age: Immortal (Among the first beings created by god, although younger than all Archangels) Gender: Identifies as male via his host. Body Type: Relatively fit, nothing special in that regard. Extended Personality The classic agent of heaven. He doesn’t understand just about any human convention to ever be created, having spent his time in heaven as more of a “poster child” and someone on hold, usually sent to 1v1 demons. He’s scornful of anyone who doesn’t uphold the highest of angelic ideals and feels dirty after a while of interacting with humans. He stands out like a sore thumb and tends to only identify demons and pursue them, or identify a tablet if he ever comes across one. His discipline is known across heaven, and to demons as well. Backstory <insert generic Angel life story here> The only thing to his existence that makes him stand out is his practice killing demons that heaven sends him to take out. He was sent to the mortal realm to find tablets by his superior, Talthael, who serves a small network of angels following the split in the Host’s leadership across various factions. He is, as of now, deemed “incorruptible” - the whole reason why he was sent in the first place. His life story was rather generic simply because he did everything he was supposed to, and not much more. The one thing in particular that is a soer subject is Michael, who he had looked up to as an idol until he vanished from Heaven. He holds a grudge gainst the winchesters and anyone who had connections with them, hear and far, fro their purpose in his fall. Family The angels. Other -He’s a practiced Demon killer. Anyone playing a demon must be extra careful to not bump into him, as he can identify demons very quickly (and demons are ultimately low on the scale compared to an angel). -He might be a comic relief character simply due to his complete old fashioned nature (the last time he interacted with humans was in the 1300’s, and still holds a “duel” mindset when it comes to solving disputes) and complete uselessness with modern technology. Anyone who introduces him to a computer better make a good impression, otherwise he might consider it a demon and hunt those too. -He’s not very friendly and especially nasty towards characters he feels are particularly sinful, and he has a good idea on the ones that genuinely are. -His angelic blade is specially designed to look like the kind used in the 1300’s. Characters should try not to laugh if he challenges them to a duel. -He has acquired his host by answering the prayer of a human businessman in his dreams. Nick Schaeffer Hunter ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ”I’m getting a little tired of being head-butted by overly horny ghosts that decided it was a good idea to bury their bones in a sealed coffin of concrete.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ <Insert Applicable Image Here> Basics Height: 5’4 Age: 53 Gender: Male Body Type: Well kept up, yet feeling the years. Extended Personality His days in hunting have allowed him to meet a large variety of people and a possibly larger variety of ghosts, vampires, skinwalkers… you name it. He doesn’t get surprised by much and counts himself lucky for having lived as long as he has - about three friends of his remain that he had met in his early years. Many hunters would have died by now. He is somewhat paranoid and always checks his guests, but once they are confirmed and if they are friends, he has a softer, more fatherly side. Sometimes he ends up rambling, which tends to only stop when the other person brings him back on topic. He firmly considers the idea of “an innocent monster” a load of bullshit and says that even if one committed a good deed, they would have a considerably longer rap sheet of dark deeds to account for. He’s a good hunter with considerable knowledge, but isn’t close to being the fastest anymore and will likely find his end in not too long. Backstory Born into a hunting family, Shaeffer grew up in a paranoid household that only trusted those who had just been tested and were known as family friends. Everyone else could be taken as an enemy. Schaeffer started hunting with his father when he was only 16, learning the ropes and doing quite a bit of reading in the family library. When his father died, he managed to hunt down the werewolf who had killed him… but the events surrounding that showdown are unclear. Some say that the werewolf is still alive… After that, Schaeffer took a much more active role in hunting, forming a small group of associates, in which he tended to be the “lookup” guy (the one to read the books and figure out how to take <x> creature down). The group evolved into a small network, in which he met various hunters, such as Otis Yates. The original team had all died before Shaeffer was 45 years old. He now takes an interest in Fermont, as from what he had read out of his library… the tablets were a quite big dea, although rather vaguely described.. His goal is to retrieve them and then find a Prophet to translate them in order to “win” the previously thought unbeatable war against monsters. Family His father, Hendrick Schaeffer, died when his son was 20. He never knew his mother, Melissa Schaeffer. Other than that, he was an only child and didn’t have very much family. He did have an uncle, George Burnett, who was also a hunter until he died at 46 chasing down a Wraith. Other -He's not too strong in melee at this point, but knows quite a bit. -He won't be recalling word-for-word as he can't exactly load up a library into his ford and bring all thousand or so books along. Or at least, he's too lazy. -He's older than most hunters live to see. Basically, he's testing fate by living this long. -Interacting characters who he doesn't know to be a monster right off the bat will be subject to the "silver knife" and "holy water" tests. He carries both around. Naturally, he's reasonable about it... not going to go too well to test everyone in a hotel, but if you want to get in the room, he's going to damn well test you. Talthael Seraphim Angelic Faction Leader ---------------------------------------------- ”Heaven is in a state of war, and it needs a guiding hand if it’s ever going to go somewhere. Me, I wouldn’t mind being that hand.” ---------------------------------------------- Basics Height: 5’6 Age: Immortal (angelic) Gender: Genderless as he appears in his true form to all angels. Body Type: Extended Personality Slimy at best, a deceiver at worst, he likes to think he’s in charge - but in fact, his faction hasn’t been doing well lately, losing ground to Naomi and other influential leaders; being reduced to few angels remaining in his ranks. He tends to make things look like they are considerably better than they actually are. He thinks that the tablets will give him the ultimate upper hand in the battle for leadership. Backstory A senior angel just below the rank of Archangel, he has been an influential member of Heaven for many millennia - although he has lagged behind others, preferring to work in the background instead of being on the front line of affairs. His primary authority came in the form of Michael’s support and approval. As such, Talthael was almost entirely dependent on him, and lost ground in the mad rush for power in Heaven to Naomi and others, losing support of all Saraphim that had once been under his command. He now holds a legacy of being Michael’s pawn, five odd angels (albeit, one of them is actually fairly powerful when it comes to the run-of-the-mill angel), and a few loose artifacts that he picked up. It is now the main reason as to why he wants the Angel tablet - if he can get his hand on the most relevant tablet to heaven, his status will be boosted considerably. Family The Angels Other -He is the superior of Kaephypton. -His interactions will mostly be in heaven; there is a low chance of him doing things for himself. -He might send someone else in the form of a minor character to assist the cause. -He’s always been a slimy character, being distinctly independent from the archangels while appeasing them when possible. He’s not very popular with them as a result. -In terms of angelic faction leaders, he’s rather low on the scale. That said, he is a potent angel in his own right. This will consist of NPC's that are used to make particular interactions function that can be taken over by other players, killed, etc as they wish, and ones that I won't bother with a full CS because they were made for something specific (ie, a ghost created to give hunters a little something to do) that other players can't control. NPC's will be marked as such IC if I use them, so ya know what you can godmod. None at the moment.

Lorsque Paimon sentit pour la première fois le remorqueur d'une convocation, il devina déjà ce qui allait arriver : un autre sorcier amateur et/ou une sorcière qui tentait de le faire entrer dans un contrat. Les plus expérimentés ont déjà appris qu'il a plutôt pulvérisé leurs épines plutôt que d'accepter un accord. Alors Païmon s'est livré à l'attraction, sachant qu'il ne pouvait pas le nier même s'il le voulait, et qu'il était d'humeur pour le sang. Donc, quand il a atterri, il, certes, s'attendait à ce que le piège du diable l'attende. Il n'avait cependant pas attendu un seau d'eau bénite au visage. Une douleur brûlante s'épanouit instantanément dans toute la peau et la chair de Paimon, tandis que l'eau bénite s'imprégnait de ses vêtements, mais il ne laissa sortir qu'un sifflement muet. Après tout, il n'était pas étranger à ce processus. Les gens l'invoquaient, l'emprisonnaient dans un cercle de runes, éclaboussaient de l'eau bénite sur lui, ou peut-être si c'est une nuit amusante, assombraient des sigils enochiens dans chaque centimètre de sa chair pour tenter de le torturer en soumission. Malheureusement pour eux, cependant, il n'a presque jamais fonctionné. Paimon marchait sur la terre depuis que Dieu sait quand, donc vraiment, c'était une mauvaise idée de baiser avec lui. Non pas que ça les ait fait tomber, mais... ils n'arrêtaient pas d'essayer. Paimon n'était pas sûr de pourquoi, mais quoi qu'il flotte leur bateau, n'est-ce pas? Secouant le reste de l'eau sainte, Paimon se regarda, les brûlures commençaient déjà à guérir. Il s'est claqué la tête en arrière pour regarder le sorcier qui l'a convoqué droit dans les yeux, Paimon a lui-même clignotant du bleu pâle à une piscine de noir sans fond. Le sorcier s'est effondré, bien que le démon ait pu dire qu'il essayait de le cacher. Le moins qu'il ait pu faire, c'était de lui donner un A pour l'effort. "Qu'est-ce que je peux faire pour toi, O' Grand et Puissant sorcier?" Païmon dessinait avec moquerie, tout son cadre en supposant cette inclinaison caractéristique et sardonique. Pas que la forme actuelle de Paimon était tout ce qui intimidant. En fait, c'était tout le contraire. «Isaiah Corcoran était court et mignon, avec un sourire denté et le genre de charme boyish qui a animé les vêtements qu'il a acheté pour lui avec de l'argent volé. Paimon a inventé son nom, parce qu'il ne se soucie pas de ce qu'était son vrai nom, et il ne le fait pas non plus. Il y a deux ans, Paimon l'avait trouvé à l'hôpital, catatonique et comatose. Ils ont un accord de sortes, le démon utilise son corps vide, et en retour, il ne gaspille pas dans un lit d'hôpital. ...Non pas qu'il avait signé des papiers officiels, ça a été des années et le démon n'a pas encore trouvé de traces de pensées dans ce joli crâne de lui. Le garçon était parti, donc Païmon doutait sincèrement qu'il ne s'inquiétait pas s'il s'occupait de ses restes. S'il vous plaît, dites-moi que vous allez sacrifier un poulet. J'ai toujours trouvé cette partie si pittoresque.La voix de Paimon est liltée d'amusement, et une écorce de rire s'est échappée de lui quand le sorcier ne s'est que glissé et s'est détournée pour préparer un autre lot d'eau bénite. Enky, les yeux noirs scannaient le piège du diable pour toutes les runes qui manquaient ou qui n'étaient pas à la place, avant finalement, il a repéré quelque chose. Un morceau de sol vierge où un symbole complexe devrait avoir été. Paimon pouvait à peine se contenir, à ça. Les humains ont-ils toujours été aussi incompétents? Il a fallu toutes les dernières onces de volonté qu'il a dû ne pas flécher et casser le cou de warlock. Non, il a dû faire ça en dernier, pour faire un exemple de lui. Bien sûr, il avait mieux à faire, mais Paimon n'avait jamais refusé une occasion aussi rare. Tandis que le warlock était retourné, il sortit du piège défectueux, apparaissa derrière lui, et attendit que sa victime se retourne. Un regard d'horreur pure (que Paimon a trouvé absolument délicieux) a traversé le visage de warlocks quand il a réalisé ce qui s'était passé. Peut-être aussi un soupçon de regret? Regrettant d'être sorti du lit ce matin, regret d'avoir tenté de contrôler un démon qui avait des milliers d'années - etcetera, etcetera. C'était la même chose pour Paimon, vraiment, mais cette scission de seconde où le gars avait l'air d'avoir juste pissé sur lui-même? Sans prix. Et comme la victime de Paimon s'en rendrait bientôt compte... Il était bien et vraiment baisé. Au moment de la fin de Païmon, le sorcier n'était guère reconnaissable. Des bandes de peau accrochées à son torse et à son visage, la chair exposée se fend déjà avec les débuts de la gangrène. Le sol en béton était teinté de brique rouge avec du sang, poivré avec des éclats d'os, et à quelques mètres de là, étaient un ensemble de mains et de pieds maladroitement amputés. Le démon n'a pas eu assez de temps pour faire un bon travail avec la peau, mais il a supposé que cela suffirait. La plupart des humains étaient assez sournois que la simple vue d'organes sanglants et dribbants causerait un upchuck de leur déjeuner, et peut-être même une valeur de vie de cauchemars. Tout comme Paimon était sur le point de partir, cependant, son téléphone portable sonnait. Une invention utile, s'il l'a dit lui-même. Maintenant, il a dû plus longtemps traverser toute la difficulté de trancher la gorge d'une personne, drainant leur sang dans un calice, juste pour contacter ses frères démoniaques. Glissant un doigt sur l'écran, Paimon a ensuite tenu le téléphone jusqu'à son oreille. ...Eh bien, sa combinaison de viande est l'oreille, si vous voulez obtenir tout ce qui est technique à ce sujet, mais c'était en dehors du point. Bonjour? Paimon s'est vite rendu compte à qui il parlait. Après tout, ce surnom n'était pas quelque chose qu'il entendait très souvent. Peu d'individus se sentaient assez à l'aise pour lui assigner un si ridicule et si enfantin. Mais Taco Bell est incroyable. Tu as vu ce qu'ils ont trouvé? Le Cheesarito? Des quesadillas à double grain? Oh, et prends ça... Waffle. Des tacos. Dis-moi que ça ne sonne pas incroyable.Le païmon était sincère, et il était sûr que personne ne les dérangerait là-bas. Les chaînes de fast-food chiantes ont toujours été remplies au bord de la société, le pire, de toute façon. Quelle différence un démon ou deux ferait-il? Allez, Dom. Ne sois pas un trou du cul, je pense mieux avec un ventre plein.

Madeleine de Lafontaine It's Hard To Get To Heaven, When You're Born Hell Bound. M'Lady / Maddie / Lafontaine Demon Madeleine stands at 5'4 with a slender hourglass figure, appearing to be in her mid twenties. 392 Female Madeleine is a seductress at heart. She enjoys toying with those she tends to kill and has a special hatred for human men after she died at the hands of her husband and saved her vessel from the same fate. Madeleine was beaten to death by her husband after committing adultery when she was 22 years old and was dragged into the pits of hell for her sins. Her anger allowed for her to quickly be stripped from her humanity and she wanted nothing more than revenge on the man who had killed. However, when her demonic visage finally revealed itself, her bastard husband was already dead. This was when she came upon a young maiden who was about to be hung. As she screamed for mercy from the men around her, begging her husband to stop his madness. Madeleine realized how she might gain her revenge and possessed her. The girl's pleas fell into quiet whimpering as the stool she stood upon was toss from under her feet and the rope tightened around her next as she fell. She did not die. Instead, she held eyes with the man who stood in front of her, a cruel smile playing on her lips. Reaching above her, Madeleine grabbed hold of the rope and with a large yank, the branch she was hanging from snapped. After brushing herself off, Madeleine mascaraed the men who had gathered to watch the woman's death before she destroyed the town. The demon has lived her life like this since. She bares a scar from the rope as a reminder of the cruelty of human men.

Avec la sonnerie de la porte, Abyzu s'est ridiculisée. Elle a demandé à la serveuse à tête rouge de s'approcher d'elle, ce qu'elle a fait à contrecœur, et a ordonné : « Amenez les deux hommes qui viennent de marcher dans des milkshakes. Sur la maison." La jeune femme s'est évanouie et s'est évanouie, regardant sur son épaule nerveusement. Abby s'est penchée sur l'homme à côté d'elle et a ronflé au journal qu'il lisait. C'était une surprise qu'elle n'ait pas encore rencontré de chasseurs, surtout avec toute l'activité en cours. Encore une fois, tous les chasseurs n'étaient pas humains. La pensée l'a fait sourire maléfiquement.

RAGUEL ARCHANGEL OF JUSTICE, FAIRNESS, VENGEANCE, AND HARMONY "I LAY TO REST THE WICKED" "ASSBUTT" BASICS CHARACTER FULL NAME: Raguel NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Reggie HEIGHT: 5' 9" BODY TYPE: Mesomorph, athletic, bottom heavy. AGE: Appears about 26 GENDER: None; goes by "she" PERSONALITY: Raguel is just as clueless as most of her angel brethren, but she finds humanity more fascinating than most. She's particularly interested in their need for pleasure and self satisfaction. She's ruthless and righteous, like any good angel, but she secretly has a mind of her own. She hasn't met her prophet yet but she deeply wants to. She almost wishes something bad would happen to him/her so that she could appear to save the day. Her main traits are basically summed up in her title. Justice and Vengeance: she tries her very hardest to make sure everyone gets what they deserve. Fairness and Harmony: she loves conflict, but not stupid conflict, so she strives to keep order. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: God SIBLINGS: All angels EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Pamela Vander (the prophet she guards) HISTORY (OPTIONAL): None yet, I develop characters through roleplay. EXTRA INFORMATION: N/A ABYZU CROSSROADS DEMON "BOY, THERE ISN'T ROOM IN YOUR PANTS." (picture is.. under construction) BASICS APPEARANCE: short, fire engine red hair, red eyes, dark skin. CHARACTER FULL NAME: Abyzu NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Abby HEIGHT: 5' 9" BODY TYPE: Ectomorph, average AGE: Appears about 32 GENDER: None; goes by "she" PERSONALITY: Abyzu is the best employee Crowley could ever ask for. She's sadistic and hateful, her deals are always sealed quickly and quietly, and she enjoys pain. So much pain. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: N/A EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: N/A HISTORY: Abby takes the souls of children. Her power comes from these souls. EXTRA INFORMATION: She has a thing for flirting. PAMELA VANDER PROPHET OF THE LORD "WAIT.. WHAT?" (picture is under construction) BASICS APPEARANCE: Portly, short, mousy, silver hair, one green eye, one yellow eye, crooked smile. CHARACTER FULL NAME: Pamela Vander NICK NAME OR ALIAS: None HEIGHT: 5' 6" BODY TYPE: Mesomorph, skinny, out of shape AGE: 14 GENDER: Female PERSONALITY: Pamela is always very confused. She doesn't do very well in school and she has a hard time concentrating on one thing at a time. She has a habit of refusing to do things she doesn't want to. She's a little lazy and kind of selfish, but her heart is in the right place. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: Daren Vander (he won't be mentioned) EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Raguel (the Archangel who guards her) HISTORY (OPTIONAL): EXTRA INFORMATION: Pamela secretly got a tattoo of a half moon with a wolf's paw for her brother.

Ahhhh, merde. J'ai oublié mes manières. Otis a posé la tasse de café et a pris la lame et l'eau de sa main. Il prit la lame d'argent et coupa l'arrière de son poignet. Une petite quantité de sang a commencé à couler de son poignet, et il n'y avait aucun signe contre nature de douleur. Il a pris le flacon et l'a versé sur la plaie, ce qui n'a pas d'effet sur la nature, et tout simplement laver le sang. "Maintenant ton tour." Il a nettoyé la lame avec un petit chiffon qu'il avait retiré de sa poche, et l'a passé à son ami. Puis il retira une coupe d'eau bénite à lui-même et lui la donna. "J'ai toujours un tatouage antipossession que tu connais. J'espère que vous en avez investi un." Il retira un miroir de sa poche et jeta un coup d'œil à la réflexion de lui-même, puis de son ami. "Cela devrait prendre soin des introductions. Tout semble en ordre." Les chasseurs plus âgés ont pris plus de leçons de la génération qui les a précédés. Cette génération récente a été considérée comme beaucoup moins importante que les autres générations. Trop de connards qui pensaient trop d'eux-mêmes et ne voulaient que l'aide d'autres chasseurs, pensant qu'ils devaient être solitaires, du moins c'était l'opinion d'Otis Yates. Les plus âgés avaient un si large cercle de connexions, et ils comptaient autant sur elle qu'ils faisaient leurs armes, de sorte qu'ils se sentaient plus forts. Vous auriez du mal à trouver des solitaires parmi les chasseurs plus âgés. "Talé à n'importe quelle de vos connexions ici?"

Full Name: Otis Yates Nickname or Alias: Oats, Otis Atherton Height: 5'11" Body Type: Fit but aged Age: 35 Gender: Male Personality: He knows his job and his limits. That won't stop him from fighting. He's harty, but aging. He can kick asses every which way, but he's taken a lot more beatings lately and his hunting has taken it's toll on his body. They say hunters age faster than other human beings, and Otis is living proof of that. He's wise and experienced, respectable and professional. He has a good base of connections to hunters and other people useful for information. It's rare that he'll go into any situation half-cocked. Friends and Family: He has two brothers, and both have become hunters. Most of his friends are other hunters and his contacts around the country. He also has a cousin who is a hunter who simply goes by the name Moser. Parents: Jason and Catherine Yates Siblings: Arvin Yates (younger), Steiner Yates(youngest). Extended family: Moser (cousin). Important Others: A good hunter buddy of his is simply called Schaeffer. He has many others. History: He became a private investigator and from there it didn't take long before he became aware of the supernatural and finally became a hunter. As far as he knows, him and his brothers are first generation hunters. His cousin is also a first generation hunter. Extra Information: I'm sure I'll add some more stuff here.

La voie est libre? Quelle affaire de cinglé... Il essayait d'envelopper sa tête autour de ce dont parlait cet ange délirant alors qu'Atlas le regardait marcher au milieu d'une intersection. Ne savait-il pas comment les intersections fonctionnaient? Alors qu'il marchait vers lui, il a vu une voiture arriver, comme s'il ne voyait même pas l'homme. Mais ce qui était pire, c'est que l'ange a décidé d'arracher une lame d'ange et de crier à la voiture, c'est si c'était un démon, prêt à l'abattre. "Tu es vraiment un idiot de fils de pute..." Tout comme la voiture était sur le point de le frapper, Atlas a disparu dans un flou de vitesse et les moments de l'ange plus tard, et la voiture est passée comme la normale. Atlas s'est retrouvé sur le trottoir, l'ange au-dessus de son épaule quand il l'a posé sur ses pieds. Il y avait des avantages à avoir une vitesse surnaturelle. « Ce sont des démons, ce sont des voitures, les humains les utilisent comme moyen de transport. Si tu sortais de la foutue route, où se trouvent les voitures, tu ne serais pas en danger de te faire frapper par une seule! » Atlas soupira, s'approcha de sa poche et alluma une cigarette. Où ont-ils eu ces gars?

CHARACTER NAME: Atlas, Arch Angel of Balance, Order, and Chaos AGE, SPECIES: Thousands of years, Arch Angel "Bring order and balance to the world, no matter the cost." BASICS CHARACTER FULL NAME: Atlas Cage NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Atlas HEIGHT: 6'3 BODY TYPE: Muscular, toned and fit AGE: Looks to be about 23 GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: Has good morales but will go about his duties as he sees fit. It doesn't matter if he has to kill in order to get a job accomplished, the divine order is above all. Other than this he is usually a bit of a flirt, sarcastic, know-it-all, kind of an asshole to most, but does have a sweet and caring side to him (Although rarely anybody gets there) FRIENDS AND FAMILY: N/A PARENTS: God SIBLINGS: All other Angels EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: N/A HISTORY: Atlas is a powerful archangel who is sort of the outcast of the bunch. He resides most of his time on earth, holding up justice and the order there and isn't too heavenly sometimes. Always been a loner, he spends his time flirting with woman, drinking, gambling, just having fun and being reckless through the body he attained of a wealthy playboy millionaire who was heavily religious and wanted nothing more than a very powerful Arch Angel to embody him. For this most of the other angels do not take a liking to Atlas, but he is one of the most powerful and does uphold their morales and help fight in their name better than most, so they tolerate him. EXTRA INFORMATION: Has the abilities of an Arch Angel.

Pendant que Tod et Micheal attendaient qu'une serveuse prenne leurs ordres, la tête rouge s'approcha de la table avec deux milkshakes. "Ce sont une seule maison." La jeune fille a dit nerveusement. "De qui sont-ils." Tod a demandé avec des yeux étroits. "La femme là-bas." Elle a pointé la femme au comptoir. Tod a immédiatement remarqué que la femme aux yeux rouges au comptoir était un démon. Il allait dire à la serveuse de les ramener avec respect, mais il a regardé Micheal et il avait déjà la moitié de la chose en bas. Tod l'a regardé avec inquiétude. "Pourquoi tu boirais ça? Vous ne savez pas ce que le démon lui a fait." Tod chuchotait à Micheal. "Oh s'il vous plaît si elle voulait me tuer ou vous elle aurait déjà essayé maintenant." Micheal a dit. "Tu vas boire le tien, j'aime mieux le chocolat" Il a dit en pointant son doigt rose sur le verre. "Et toi, j'ai besoin de nourriture. Apportez-moi deux hamburgers au fromage et un autre milkshake. Pour mon ami bien, il va probablement vous manger." Micheal a dit les derniers mots tout en agitant ses sourcils de façon suggestive, et la fille rougi tout en ne comprenant pas le sens souligné de ses mots. "Dites-lui que j'ai dit merci" Tod a dit à la serveuse "Et je vais prendre un café, noir. La serveuse fit signe et partit avec leurs ordres, et Tod regarda la femme. Il était déjà à l'écart et n'avait pas besoin de problèmes lors de leur première sortie. Micheal avait déjà bu le deuxième milkshake et suivi le regard de Tod. Il a vu la femme et elle était définitivement un démon. Micheal détestait la prudence de Tod alors il s'est levé et est allé à si elle était assise et a regardé ses beaux yeux rouges. "Bonjour, je voulais juste te remercier pour les boissons, et j'aimerais que tu manges avec moi et mon compagnon." Il lui a dit avec un sourire. "Je tremblerais mais comme vous pouvez le voir, je suis menotté en ce moment."

Micheal Von Jence CHARACTER FULL NAME: Micheal Von Jence AGE, SPECIES: 459 years old, Fairy (Wicked Witch) NICK NAME OR ALIAS: MJ (The Witch Doctor) HEIGHT: 5'10 BODY TYPE: Toned, Slim AGE: Looks about 18 GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: Micheal is a meticulous intellectual, the "scientist" of the fairy community. He is highly narcissistic and extremely flamboyant, tending to make lewd, disturbing comments about people he doesn't like. Micheal is quite sadistic, viewing others as little more than research material. He thinks poorly of humans, hoping someone will someday wipe them all out of existence. He thinks of himself as an actor, treating his battles like theatrical performances, especially when toying with his victims. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: N/A PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: Jon(Younger Brother), Anna(Older Sister) EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Another Witch (good) named Alice, the only other one he can tolerate. HISTORY: Micheal was born at the start of the slave trade in the 16th century. He grew up in luxury and endless help. Everyone in his family are witches and he was no exception. As a child he would bully human children with his gifts and play endless tricks on his siblings. When he got older he learned to harness his gifts and became a fully fledged witch. He decided to live the life of a scientist and experiment on what ever he can. This is were his dark nature grew from. The only one who has ever seen the "good" side of him is his friend Alice. In his 300s he tamed an Arachne named Tod and they have been companions ever since. EXTRA INFORMATION: His 100 year old pet snake. Tom James CHARACTER FULL NAME: Tom James AGE, SPECIES: 200 years old, Arachne NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Tommy (The Golden One) HEIGHT: 6'2 BODY TYPE: Muscular, Toned, Rugged AGE: Looks about early 30s GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: Tom is an honest man. He has never been one to shy from the truth, and is always FRIENDS AND FAMILY: Micheal (his owner) PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: N/A EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: His maker Jeana. HISTORY: Tom was turned when he was 30. He was at his birthday party and Jeana turned him as a "gift". He has been miserable ever since. Having to fed on humanity on a weekly basis and not having any support. At one point he even tired to become a wanderer. Going from place to place. Trying not to feed but failing miserably. He never truly let go of his human nature until he went south. Down in the south he met Micheal. At first he dismissed him as some rude punk but he never wold have thought he was a 200 year old fairy. He began to hang around Micheal even more and earned the name pest. Then one day he saved his life and Micheal rewarded him by buying him. He told Tom that in exchange for his life he would make sure he could be himself and never be lonely, and they have been together ever since. EXTRA INFORMATION: His makers spider type was, Black Widow, so he inherited the Gold Orb Weaver Genes. His maker Jeana. She can also be used an NPC.

Kaephypton a froncé après qu'il ait été abattu et entendu que les humains utilisaient ces voitures comme transport. Ils voyagent en démons?... Quelle étrange terre Talthael m'a envoyé à... Le chiffre devant lui était probablement quelqu'un de son niveau de patron ou plus ; quelque chose à mentionner quand il a fait son rapport. Redmond siffla une chanson qu'il avait ramassée en traquant un humain depuis un certain temps alors qu'il allait sur la route, voyant la vie dans toutes les directions. Ça sentait... assez bon. Beaucoup d'humains. Beaucoup de leurres à avoir... le chaos à créer... Il est tombé sur une porte particulière, et, sur un coup de tête, est entré à l'intérieur. (aka, le Diner)

Redmond Drayer Surviving Leviathan ---------------------------------------------- ”Dick Roman fit his name in more ways than one. Now that he’s gone, I can do things the right way...” ---------------------------------------------- Basics Height: 5’6 Age: Immortal (first creation of God, so… fits the age rather well) Gender: Takes the form of a male. Body Type: Extended Personality Not the strongest of Leviathans, Redmond has always disagreed with Roman’s policy of senseless or even systematic assimilation of all into a single, controllable host. Redmond prefers chaos and lack of unity; something which makes it easier for him to act without those knowing. Unfortunately for him, he was one of the last of his kind to have been created and therefore one of the youngest; that leaves him at a disadvantage compared to others. However, with his old hated boss gone, he has explored new possibilities - including the expansion of his own inherent powers to include more… celestial representations. Not that this has worked yet, but he’s not going to give up. It’s rather difficult to stop him, so that has only helped to boost his confidence. He is more sadistic than other Leviathan‘s and may attempt to deliver beings expressing their powers in overly obvious ways (read: OP players) an “entertaining” first class ticket to his main course dinner plate. That said, he’s not stupid; he can cover his tracks well from the average hunter and can fool other beings that may or may not even know what he is. Backstory One of the last Leviathans to be created, he was more of a grunt power wise for the strongest of his kind, known as Dick Roman most recently. However, he always secretly despised how the others adhered to a policy of combining “Illuminati” style domination of others with dull feeding. Redmond liked chaos and picking his victims that had the most chance of realizing just where the threat would be coming from. Purgatory was his favorite place. It had all the chaos he could want; he was top of the food chain and enjoyed himself even as the others hated it. That made him the opposite of the other Leviathans when taken out of Purgatory by Castiel - he half-heartedly took up the side task of hunting and eating Castiel even as he was sent to take out others who were providing a fuss, such as the hunter Frank. Alas, he never met up with his goal, and tended to be elsewhere when the real action was happening. It did, however, save him from being one of those sucked to Purgatory by the death of Roman; he was far out of range and was one of the few to be left wandering the world. When he heard of Roman’s death, he hadn’t been so happy since he first discovered the nature of Purgatory. he went up in Alaska for a while, killing hunters and those who strayed off the trail, before picking up on the news of the “hot spot”, as the contacts who brought it to his attention called it. It was at that point that he decided to head to Fremont, the hotspot that had been called by his contacts “the big one” (at least, before he cleaned up loose ends and ate the said contacts…) Family If you’re Leviathan, you’re his brother (or sister?). Other -This character will be mostly killing NPC’s, but if you want to meet up with him in the course of roleplay to have the experience of fighting (and quite possibly dying to) a Leviathan, feel free. -If characters step way too out of line power wise or blatantly kill other player’s characters without any sort of advance warning or discussion, they might wake up (or turn around) to find a less than attractive mouth coming at them… -All normal ways to disable a Leviathan apply, and are a little more effective than on others if anything. At this point, nobody can make him “bib” because nobody has the authority. -The one known way to kill one isn’t something that’s going to happen in 5 posts. You can do it, just go with a little advance warning and make the path to death “logical” (as the supernatural universe can be). -To anyone who doesn’t know what he is, he is a monster (if they identify him as the killer). Keep in mind he can shapeshift to the form of those he touches, so one can lose the path without much difficulty (although I won’t make it stupidly impossible to track him, as that would just be boring roleplay). -his body looks like that of one of his particular favorite victims... -Yes, he can eat an Archangel. The above applies, though, and no Archangel will be eaten unless the GM steps in as God and destines my guy to mysteriously locate them to serve as a first course meal. Kaephypton Angelic Agent ---------------------------------------------- ”Without discipline, even the Angels can fall. Castiel taught us that.” ---------------------------------------------- (as of current host) Basics Height: 5’3 Age: Immortal (Among the first beings created by god, although younger than all Archangels) Gender: Identifies as male via his host. Body Type: Relatively fit, nothing special in that regard. Extended Personality The classic agent of heaven. He doesn’t understand just about any human convention to ever be created, having spent his time in heaven as more of a “poster child” and someone on hold, usually sent to 1v1 demons. He’s scornful of anyone who doesn’t uphold the highest of angelic ideals and feels dirty after a while of interacting with humans. He stands out like a sore thumb and tends to only identify demons and pursue them, or identify a tablet if he ever comes across one. His discipline is known across heaven, and to demons as well. Backstory <insert generic Angel life story here> The only thing to his existence that makes him stand out is his practice killing demons that heaven sends him to take out. He was sent to the mortal realm to find tablets by his superior, Talthael, who serves a small network of angels following the split in the Host’s leadership across various factions. He is, as of now, deemed “incorruptible” - the whole reason why he was sent in the first place. His life story was rather generic simply because he did everything he was supposed to, and not much more. The one thing in particular that is a soer subject is Michael, who he had looked up to as an idol until he vanished from Heaven. He holds a grudge gainst the winchesters and anyone who had connections with them, hear and far, fro their purpose in his fall. Family The angels. Other -He’s a practiced Demon killer. Anyone playing a demon must be extra careful to not bump into him, as he can identify demons very quickly (and demons are ultimately low on the scale compared to an angel). -He might be a comic relief character simply due to his complete old fashioned nature (the last time he interacted with humans was in the 1300’s, and still holds a “duel” mindset when it comes to solving disputes) and complete uselessness with modern technology. Anyone who introduces him to a computer better make a good impression, otherwise he might consider it a demon and hunt those too. -He’s not very friendly and especially nasty towards characters he feels are particularly sinful, and he has a good idea on the ones that genuinely are. -His angelic blade is specially designed to look like the kind used in the 1300’s. Characters should try not to laugh if he challenges them to a duel. -He has acquired his host by answering the prayer of a human businessman in his dreams. Nick Schaeffer Hunter ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ”I’m getting a little tired of being head-butted by overly horny ghosts that decided it was a good idea to bury their bones in a sealed coffin of concrete.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ <Insert Applicable Image Here> Basics Height: 5’4 Age: 53 Gender: Male Body Type: Well kept up, yet feeling the years. Extended Personality His days in hunting have allowed him to meet a large variety of people and a possibly larger variety of ghosts, vampires, skinwalkers… you name it. He doesn’t get surprised by much and counts himself lucky for having lived as long as he has - about three friends of his remain that he had met in his early years. Many hunters would have died by now. He is somewhat paranoid and always checks his guests, but once they are confirmed and if they are friends, he has a softer, more fatherly side. Sometimes he ends up rambling, which tends to only stop when the other person brings him back on topic. He firmly considers the idea of “an innocent monster” a load of bullshit and says that even if one committed a good deed, they would have a considerably longer rap sheet of dark deeds to account for. He’s a good hunter with considerable knowledge, but isn’t close to being the fastest anymore and will likely find his end in not too long. Backstory Born into a hunting family, Shaeffer grew up in a paranoid household that only trusted those who had just been tested and were known as family friends. Everyone else could be taken as an enemy. Schaeffer started hunting with his father when he was only 16, learning the ropes and doing quite a bit of reading in the family library. When his father died, he managed to hunt down the werewolf who had killed him… but the events surrounding that showdown are unclear. Some say that the werewolf is still alive… After that, Schaeffer took a much more active role in hunting, forming a small group of associates, in which he tended to be the “lookup” guy (the one to read the books and figure out how to take <x> creature down). The group evolved into a small network, in which he met various hunters, such as Otis Yates. The original team had all died before Shaeffer was 45 years old. He now takes an interest in Fermont, as from what he had read out of his library… the tablets were a quite big dea, although rather vaguely described.. His goal is to retrieve them and then find a Prophet to translate them in order to “win” the previously thought unbeatable war against monsters. Family His father, Hendrick Schaeffer, died when his son was 20. He never knew his mother, Melissa Schaeffer. Other than that, he was an only child and didn’t have very much family. He did have an uncle, George Burnett, who was also a hunter until he died at 46 chasing down a Wraith. Other -He's not too strong in melee at this point, but knows quite a bit. -He won't be recalling word-for-word as he can't exactly load up a library into his ford and bring all thousand or so books along. Or at least, he's too lazy. -He's older than most hunters live to see. Basically, he's testing fate by living this long. -Interacting characters who he doesn't know to be a monster right off the bat will be subject to the "silver knife" and "holy water" tests. He carries both around. Naturally, he's reasonable about it... not going to go too well to test everyone in a hotel, but if you want to get in the room, he's going to damn well test you. Talthael Seraphim Angelic Faction Leader ---------------------------------------------- ”Heaven is in a state of war, and it needs a guiding hand if it’s ever going to go somewhere. Me, I wouldn’t mind being that hand.” ---------------------------------------------- Basics Height: 5’6 Age: Immortal (angelic) Gender: Genderless as he appears in his true form to all angels. Body Type: Extended Personality Slimy at best, a deceiver at worst, he likes to think he’s in charge - but in fact, his faction hasn’t been doing well lately, losing ground to Naomi and other influential leaders; being reduced to few angels remaining in his ranks. He tends to make things look like they are considerably better than they actually are. He thinks that the tablets will give him the ultimate upper hand in the battle for leadership. Backstory A senior angel just below the rank of Archangel, he has been an influential member of Heaven for many millennia - although he has lagged behind others, preferring to work in the background instead of being on the front line of affairs. His primary authority came in the form of Michael’s support and approval. As such, Talthael was almost entirely dependent on him, and lost ground in the mad rush for power in Heaven to Naomi and others, losing support of all Saraphim that had once been under his command. He now holds a legacy of being Michael’s pawn, five odd angels (albeit, one of them is actually fairly powerful when it comes to the run-of-the-mill angel), and a few loose artifacts that he picked up. It is now the main reason as to why he wants the Angel tablet - if he can get his hand on the most relevant tablet to heaven, his status will be boosted considerably. Family The Angels Other -He is the superior of Kaephypton. -His interactions will mostly be in heaven; there is a low chance of him doing things for himself. -He might send someone else in the form of a minor character to assist the cause. -He’s always been a slimy character, being distinctly independent from the archangels while appeasing them when possible. He’s not very popular with them as a result. -In terms of angelic faction leaders, he’s rather low on the scale. That said, he is a potent angel in his own right. This will consist of NPC's that are used to make particular interactions function that can be taken over by other players, killed, etc as they wish, and ones that I won't bother with a full CS because they were made for something specific (ie, a ghost created to give hunters a little something to do) that other players can't control. NPC's will be marked as such IC if I use them, so ya know what you can godmod. None at the moment.

Abby titrait, ce qui était étrange venant d'un démon aux yeux rouges. "Les gens," a-t-elle loué, "Je t'aime bien. J'aimerais bien me joindre à vous et à votre ami. » Elle s'est levée et a demandé à Michael de montrer la voie, même si elle savait déjà où ils étaient assis. Elle n'a pas pris rapidement de l'inhumain qui vient de passer par la porte, mais ne lui a pas prêté beaucoup d'attention. Pour l'instant. Elle était sûre qu'elle l'aurait vu le moment venu.

RAGUEL ARCHANGEL OF JUSTICE, FAIRNESS, VENGEANCE, AND HARMONY "I LAY TO REST THE WICKED" "ASSBUTT" BASICS CHARACTER FULL NAME: Raguel NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Reggie HEIGHT: 5' 9" BODY TYPE: Mesomorph, athletic, bottom heavy. AGE: Appears about 26 GENDER: None; goes by "she" PERSONALITY: Raguel is just as clueless as most of her angel brethren, but she finds humanity more fascinating than most. She's particularly interested in their need for pleasure and self satisfaction. She's ruthless and righteous, like any good angel, but she secretly has a mind of her own. She hasn't met her prophet yet but she deeply wants to. She almost wishes something bad would happen to him/her so that she could appear to save the day. Her main traits are basically summed up in her title. Justice and Vengeance: she tries her very hardest to make sure everyone gets what they deserve. Fairness and Harmony: she loves conflict, but not stupid conflict, so she strives to keep order. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: God SIBLINGS: All angels EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Pamela Vander (the prophet she guards) HISTORY (OPTIONAL): None yet, I develop characters through roleplay. EXTRA INFORMATION: N/A ABYZU CROSSROADS DEMON "BOY, THERE ISN'T ROOM IN YOUR PANTS." (picture is.. under construction) BASICS APPEARANCE: short, fire engine red hair, red eyes, dark skin. CHARACTER FULL NAME: Abyzu NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Abby HEIGHT: 5' 9" BODY TYPE: Ectomorph, average AGE: Appears about 32 GENDER: None; goes by "she" PERSONALITY: Abyzu is the best employee Crowley could ever ask for. She's sadistic and hateful, her deals are always sealed quickly and quietly, and she enjoys pain. So much pain. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: N/A EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: N/A HISTORY: Abby takes the souls of children. Her power comes from these souls. EXTRA INFORMATION: She has a thing for flirting. PAMELA VANDER PROPHET OF THE LORD "WAIT.. WHAT?" (picture is under construction) BASICS APPEARANCE: Portly, short, mousy, silver hair, one green eye, one yellow eye, crooked smile. CHARACTER FULL NAME: Pamela Vander NICK NAME OR ALIAS: None HEIGHT: 5' 6" BODY TYPE: Mesomorph, skinny, out of shape AGE: 14 GENDER: Female PERSONALITY: Pamela is always very confused. She doesn't do very well in school and she has a hard time concentrating on one thing at a time. She has a habit of refusing to do things she doesn't want to. She's a little lazy and kind of selfish, but her heart is in the right place. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: Daren Vander (he won't be mentioned) EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Raguel (the Archangel who guards her) HISTORY (OPTIONAL): EXTRA INFORMATION: Pamela secretly got a tattoo of a half moon with a wolf's paw for her brother.

Tod a regardé comme un homme est entré. Pas un homme, mais un homme. Il ne pouvait pas se taire en mettant son doigt sur ce qu'il était mais il pouvait sentir la faim sur lui. Il regarda ensuite en arrière et regarda le démon et Micheal faire leur échange. Il voulait faire monter Micheal par son cou pour avoir pris des actions aussi dangereuses, que le démon pouvait faire n'importe quoi et... et bien il allait bien maintenant donc tout devait faire était l'espoir que le nouveau personnage n'ait pas causé d'ennuis. Il s'est redressé et a regardé Micheal et sa femme traverser la pièce pour retourner à leur stand. Il se demande ce qui se passera ensuite. (En milliers de dollars des États-Unis) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Micheal a fait un petit clin d'œil et a souri. Celui-ci avait un ton agréable, mais il se demandait pourquoi elle était ici. Celui-ci a hissé les cloches de la porte et a regardé par-dessus et a vu un vrai monstre. Il ne s'arrêta pas et continua à revenir avec une chose dans son esprit, Excitation. Micheal était sûr qu'il avait rencontré chaque roi de monstre là-bas, mais celui-ci était différent. Il avait une aura qui a fait que Micheal voulait le mettre sur une table de lobotomie et l'a ouvert. Mais pour l'instant, il devait être satisfait d'une observation lointaine. Son attention revint à la cabine s'il s'assit et laissa ce démon s'asseoir à côté de lui. "C'est Tod James et je suis Micheal Von Jence." Il a dit avec un sourire.

Micheal Von Jence CHARACTER FULL NAME: Micheal Von Jence AGE, SPECIES: 459 years old, Fairy (Wicked Witch) NICK NAME OR ALIAS: MJ (The Witch Doctor) HEIGHT: 5'10 BODY TYPE: Toned, Slim AGE: Looks about 18 GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: Micheal is a meticulous intellectual, the "scientist" of the fairy community. He is highly narcissistic and extremely flamboyant, tending to make lewd, disturbing comments about people he doesn't like. Micheal is quite sadistic, viewing others as little more than research material. He thinks poorly of humans, hoping someone will someday wipe them all out of existence. He thinks of himself as an actor, treating his battles like theatrical performances, especially when toying with his victims. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: N/A PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: Jon(Younger Brother), Anna(Older Sister) EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Another Witch (good) named Alice, the only other one he can tolerate. HISTORY: Micheal was born at the start of the slave trade in the 16th century. He grew up in luxury and endless help. Everyone in his family are witches and he was no exception. As a child he would bully human children with his gifts and play endless tricks on his siblings. When he got older he learned to harness his gifts and became a fully fledged witch. He decided to live the life of a scientist and experiment on what ever he can. This is were his dark nature grew from. The only one who has ever seen the "good" side of him is his friend Alice. In his 300s he tamed an Arachne named Tod and they have been companions ever since. EXTRA INFORMATION: His 100 year old pet snake. Tom James CHARACTER FULL NAME: Tom James AGE, SPECIES: 200 years old, Arachne NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Tommy (The Golden One) HEIGHT: 6'2 BODY TYPE: Muscular, Toned, Rugged AGE: Looks about early 30s GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: Tom is an honest man. He has never been one to shy from the truth, and is always FRIENDS AND FAMILY: Micheal (his owner) PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: N/A EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: His maker Jeana. HISTORY: Tom was turned when he was 30. He was at his birthday party and Jeana turned him as a "gift". He has been miserable ever since. Having to fed on humanity on a weekly basis and not having any support. At one point he even tired to become a wanderer. Going from place to place. Trying not to feed but failing miserably. He never truly let go of his human nature until he went south. Down in the south he met Micheal. At first he dismissed him as some rude punk but he never wold have thought he was a 200 year old fairy. He began to hang around Micheal even more and earned the name pest. Then one day he saved his life and Micheal rewarded him by buying him. He told Tom that in exchange for his life he would make sure he could be himself and never be lonely, and they have been together ever since. EXTRA INFORMATION: His makers spider type was, Black Widow, so he inherited the Gold Orb Weaver Genes. His maker Jeana. She can also be used an NPC.

Zerena maudite sous son souffle alors qu'elle luttait pour mettre sa clé dans la serrure. Pourquoi ce truc était si collant? Le fumeur se parlait et la regardait. Elle n'était pas vraiment surprise que cet endroit ait réuni les fous, elle ne serait pas surprise si une autre pièce était un drogué par l'apparence de cet endroit. Elle n'a réussi à obtenir la clé qu'à mi-chemin avant de prendre un pas en arrière et de la frapper. Si ce n'était pas pour le fumeur, elle le choisirait et tout serait fini. Ça n'a pas aidé à ce que sa capacité à ouvrir cette porte ait maintenant besoin de plus de chance qu'elle n'a forcé. Elle l'a sorti et a regardé la serrure, inspectant la poignée. Elle soupira, "Tu sais... à ce stade, tu devrais probablement juste prendre une photo," Elle regarda l'homme et coiffa un sourcil, "Ou papa n'approuverait pas cela?" Elle a normalement découvert que, face à leurs propres murmures, la plupart des gens normaux ont décidé de retourner dans leurs propres petits mondes. Sans parler, elle n'avait pas vraiment peur de lui ou de quelqu'un ici. Elle pouvait facilement se débrouiller contre l'humain ivre, un morceau de gâteau contre les monstres et les démons avec lesquels elle avait eu affaire au fil des ans. Elle a tourné son attention de lui à la clé dans ses mains. Demeurant accroupie, elle a commencé à ramasser une partie des boues des crêtes. On aurait dit que quelqu'un avait essayé de le réparer et qu'il avait échoué lamentablement à la tâche, ce qui ne faisait qu'empirer la situation. Elle a soupiré et a atteint son sac, elle s'en foutait de ce qu'il dirait, elle avait fini de se battre avec sa serrure. En sortant deux longs bâtons de métal, elle a fait un travail rapide de la serrure. Elle a laissé un soupir de soulagement quand elle a entendu le clic de l'écluse et s'est tenue à ouvrir la porte avant qu'elle ne se penche pour remettre ses pics d'écluse à son sac et rassembler ses affaires. Madeleine s'est penchée sur la tête en marchant dans la rue, se remémorant son dernier meurtre. La façon dont la femme avait frappé l'homme en pensant qu'il avait amené une troisième femme. Le regard sur le visage de l'homme alors qu'il la regardait d'abord marcher jusqu'au lit avant de s'asseoir sur le bord de celui-ci. La façon dont leurs cris sonnaient alors qu'elle les bourdonnait dans ses mains. Ils étaient dans un immeuble après tout. Elle ne pouvait pas laisser quelqu'un entrer pour gâcher tout son plaisir. Elle s'est bien amusée. Quelque chose dans l'intimité d'un appartement avait rendu le meurtre encore plus satisfaisant. Bien sûr, les cris étaient toujours agréables à entendre mais la menace de son plaisir étant perturbée et infligeant tant de douleur sans leur permettre de crier... C'était vraiment merveilleux. Ses talons faisaient un bruit rythmique en marchant. Talon, orteil, talon, orteil. Elle ne savait pas où elle allait... peut-être à la recherche d'une autre victime... peut-être trouver un autre démon et peindre la ville en rouge... et bien, elle avait tout le temps au monde pour comprendre ce qu'elle allait faire. Olesya allait vérifier Atlas et s'assurer qu'il n'avait pas escroqué le pauvre casino de trop d'argent quand elle a vu la lumière. Elle s'est cognée les lèvres et a supposé que c'était quelque chose qui valait la peine d'en parler à Atlas... Il y avait clairement un autre Ange. Elle s'est rendue au casino et a demandé à une serveuse si quelqu'un encaissait d'importantes sommes d'argent et on lui a parlé d'un homme qui avait quitté des moments antérieurs, mais qui semblait disparaître. C'était certainement Atlas, il devait être devenu invisible... peut-être qu'il avait vu la lumière, elle pensait que c'était mieux d'aller le voir. Elle a marché dehors et en un instant était sur le trottoir de l'autre côté de la rue de l'Archange qu'elle cherchait. Sur la route, elle a remarqué l'homme qu'elle a supposé être leur nouvelle arrivée menace une voiture avec sa lame. Elle a à peine eu le temps de réagir avant qu'Atlas n'entre en courant et ne tire l'Ange de la rue et de son côté de la route. Elle s'avança alors et plaça sa main sur le bras d'Atlas, « Sois gentille », dit-elle, lui donnant un regard un peu sévère. Elle tourna alors son attention de l'ange et lui sourit : « Tu n'es pas allé sur Terre depuis un moment... n'est-ce pas? » Elle a demandé, sa voix douce.

IAN COSDEN HUNTER "Small tricks won't work on me... Sweetheart" "Dude!?! Really!?! Loosen up a little!!" Full name: Ian Cosden Alias: Jackson Wright Height: 5'11" Body type: Thin yet muscular Age: Just barely 22 Gender: Male MAYLA BETHELL SKINWALKER "Have you seen the world through the eyes of a dog??... No!! Then don't assume you know anything." Skinwalker form: Full name: Mayla Bethell Nickname: May Heigth: 4'11" Body type: Thin and a little lanky Age: 10 Gender: Female

M. Dominique, Président de la Commission des droits de l'homme et des droits de l'homme, Président de la Commission des droits de l'homme et Président de la Commission des droits de l'homme. "Très bien! Très bien. C'est Taco Bell." il a laissé sortir un soupir audible et affligé alors qu'il a glissé le téléphone dans sa veste. Respirant dans la fraîcheur de l'air de montagne, il décida ce qui devait être fait ensuite. Les routes étaient nues cette nuit-là, le camion de chargement occasionnel faisant ses rondes autour de la zone. Parfait pour passer inaperçu. Bien que le démon fût toujours en conflit quant à l'endroit où il devait aller pour trouver le Taco Bell le plus proche, il attendit. Une idée a commencé à se démêler une fois qu'il a remarqué une lumière lointaine plus proche de l'endroit où il se trouvait. Sur le côté de la route, il a fait des allers-retours jusqu'à ce que le camion passe à une vitesse alarmante. Dom n'a pas prêté attention à son accélération et s'est mis à marcher devant la route du camion avec les bras tenus haut. "Salut!" avec une fraction de temps pour réagir, le conducteur n'avait réussi à claquer les ruptures qu'une fois que le véhicule était complètement entré en collision avec le démon. Il était convaincu qu'il avait brisé le jeune homme, mais Dom planta fermement ses pieds dans le sol, permettant au camion de déraper avec le démon pendant une seule seconde. La brune balançait autour du coin, grimpait sur le pas du camion et sautait la tête dans la fenêtre, accueillie par un chauffeur en jarre avec un chapelet serré dans les deux mains. Tout le cadre de l'homme trembla, tandis que Dom riait de l'expression sur son visage. "H-comment êtes-vous--" "Oh, eh bien... des jeunes hommes en forme et aptes comme moi peuvent faire des merveilles." Il a ronflé. Il a donné au conducteur une fois de plus avec un léger sourire, "...mais je suis sûr que vous ne comprendriez pas." "Excuse m-m--" Avec un abruti rugueux, le conducteur avait la gorge serrée par le démon non éclaboussé en une fraction de seconde. "Dites-moi où se trouve le Taco Bell le plus proche. Si tu te dépêches, je te laisse en un seul morceau pour ta famille." Les yeux de l'homme barbu s'éparpillaient de l'autre côté pendant qu'il luttait pour respirer et faire sortir les mots. D'un coup d'œil à son côté et d'un souffle fugace, il a finalement coincé un bras, pointant droit devant pour indiquer l'emplacement de la destination du démon. Dom permit à l'obscurité de sa nature de troubler ses yeux, révélant à l'homme d'âge moyen qui était son agresseur. Cela l'a ravi, car il savait que ce serait la dernière image du conducteur. Un swipe rapide sonnait dans l'air, comme un éventail de cramoisi foncé éperdu de la jugulaire coupée de l'homme qui taillait le tableau de bord et les fenêtres. Une expression d'agonie a cligné sur le visage de l'homme, plaidant les yeux verrouillés avec la propre paire de pitch-dark de Dom. "J'ai seulement dit que je te laisserais en un seul morceau." Dom chuchotait pendant que la vie laissait les yeux du conducteur. C'était sa file d'attente pour faire une pause. En commençant par un jogging, suivi d'un sprint complet, Dom était heureux de la productivité de cette nuit-là. Normalement, il aurait eu plus de temps avec le chauffeur, mais il pensait qu'il aurait pu facilement faire la même chose une autre nuit. En plus, il avait un plan pour se défaire avec son pote, donc une fois que c'est fait, les massacres seraient une brise totale pour lui et le reste de la population démoniaque. La lune brillait sa lumière haute dans le ciel, qui le soulagé, sachant qu'il avait encore assez de temps pour la faire avant le lever du soleil. Dominique a atteint la petite ville, ou plutôt, une masse de cabanes et quelques restaurants shabby dans la minute suivante. Il est retourné à la couleur de ses yeux d'origine et a dépêché la zone pour l'articulation mexicaine. Une lueur de rose et de violet juste autour du coin l'a fait hyper, mais pas pour la nourriture bien sûr. Il traversa occasionnellement l'intersection avant de remarquer deux hommes clignotant d'un point à l'autre en un clin d'œil. Les yeux du démon s'élargissaient au fur et à mesure qu'il accélérait son rythme. Le jeune homme est entré dans le restaurant et a remarqué la présence de plus d'une entité paranormale dans la région. Quatre, pour être exact. Maudit intérieurement au restaurant préféré de Paimon, il a pris place juste à côté de la porte et scanné la pièce pour suivre l'odeur inconnue. Dom s'est rendu compte qu'il y avait un autre démon présent, une dame pour être sûr. Deux étrangers l'ont approchée, et Dom n'était pas sûr qu'ils étaient hostiles ou non. Un autre 'homme' venait de prendre place en face du restaurant, d'où Dominique était assise. L'odeur qui émanait de lui commença à devenir familière à mesure que sa crainte s'élevait. Quoi qu'il en soit, il a attendu en silence pour regarder les événements se dérouler alors qu'il attendait impatiemment son ami, et il espérait ardemment que les « travailleurs du miracle » à l'extérieur ne l'ont pas remarqué.

.

K a froncé comme il a vu une autre arrivée. Probablement un ange aussi... c'était bizarre. Il aurait un peu de nouvelles pour son patron. En réponse à elle, il a dit, "Eh bien... non, pas depuis le 15ème siècle." Redmond commençait à regretter son choix de dîner. Les flagrants Le démon Oder l'a presque renvoyé par la porte. C'est dégueulasse... Les deux autres près d'elle n'avaient pas beaucoup de meilleure odeur non plus. Ils sont probablement venus d'Eve... oui, c'était tout. Apparemment, le diner était un hotspot, il pensait en s'asseyant à l'autre bout du diner, qu'il pouvait au moins tolérer. Seul le bon démon est un repas. En y pensant, ce ne serait pas trop mal d'une idée... La serveuse, voyant de toute évidence certaines des choses que Redmond avait remarquées, est venue, toujours à l'air nerveux et jetant des regards sur son épaule. Il a jeté un coup d'œil au menu. Comment les humains mangent-ils ça? Un peu d'eau pour l'instant, pas de minéraux, juste un peu de liquide réel si vous voulez. Au moins il pourrait boire cela, bien que les humains ont mis leur eau, aussi. Il ne serait pas surpris s'ils en avaient un avec le borax... bien que s'ils le faisaient, ils ne dureraient pas très longtemps. Il a vu un autre démon entrer dans le restaurant. Il ne l'a pas ignorée et a cherché quelque chose qui serait un vrai repas. La serveuse n'avait pas l'air mal. Peut-être quand elle est partie en pause?... C'est parti. Prenez sa forme, mangez-la, et mettez quelques romans seulement de bonnes choses dans toutes leurs boissons... Si seulement un démon de plus est entré dans le bar, cependant... il a donné un regard plutôt mauvais au démon femelle avec les yeux rouges avant de regarder quelques steaks humains de l'autre côté de la rue par la fenêtre.

Redmond Drayer Surviving Leviathan ---------------------------------------------- ”Dick Roman fit his name in more ways than one. Now that he’s gone, I can do things the right way...” ---------------------------------------------- Basics Height: 5’6 Age: Immortal (first creation of God, so… fits the age rather well) Gender: Takes the form of a male. Body Type: Extended Personality Not the strongest of Leviathans, Redmond has always disagreed with Roman’s policy of senseless or even systematic assimilation of all into a single, controllable host. Redmond prefers chaos and lack of unity; something which makes it easier for him to act without those knowing. Unfortunately for him, he was one of the last of his kind to have been created and therefore one of the youngest; that leaves him at a disadvantage compared to others. However, with his old hated boss gone, he has explored new possibilities - including the expansion of his own inherent powers to include more… celestial representations. Not that this has worked yet, but he’s not going to give up. It’s rather difficult to stop him, so that has only helped to boost his confidence. He is more sadistic than other Leviathan‘s and may attempt to deliver beings expressing their powers in overly obvious ways (read: OP players) an “entertaining” first class ticket to his main course dinner plate. That said, he’s not stupid; he can cover his tracks well from the average hunter and can fool other beings that may or may not even know what he is. Backstory One of the last Leviathans to be created, he was more of a grunt power wise for the strongest of his kind, known as Dick Roman most recently. However, he always secretly despised how the others adhered to a policy of combining “Illuminati” style domination of others with dull feeding. Redmond liked chaos and picking his victims that had the most chance of realizing just where the threat would be coming from. Purgatory was his favorite place. It had all the chaos he could want; he was top of the food chain and enjoyed himself even as the others hated it. That made him the opposite of the other Leviathans when taken out of Purgatory by Castiel - he half-heartedly took up the side task of hunting and eating Castiel even as he was sent to take out others who were providing a fuss, such as the hunter Frank. Alas, he never met up with his goal, and tended to be elsewhere when the real action was happening. It did, however, save him from being one of those sucked to Purgatory by the death of Roman; he was far out of range and was one of the few to be left wandering the world. When he heard of Roman’s death, he hadn’t been so happy since he first discovered the nature of Purgatory. he went up in Alaska for a while, killing hunters and those who strayed off the trail, before picking up on the news of the “hot spot”, as the contacts who brought it to his attention called it. It was at that point that he decided to head to Fremont, the hotspot that had been called by his contacts “the big one” (at least, before he cleaned up loose ends and ate the said contacts…) Family If you’re Leviathan, you’re his brother (or sister?). Other -This character will be mostly killing NPC’s, but if you want to meet up with him in the course of roleplay to have the experience of fighting (and quite possibly dying to) a Leviathan, feel free. -If characters step way too out of line power wise or blatantly kill other player’s characters without any sort of advance warning or discussion, they might wake up (or turn around) to find a less than attractive mouth coming at them… -All normal ways to disable a Leviathan apply, and are a little more effective than on others if anything. At this point, nobody can make him “bib” because nobody has the authority. -The one known way to kill one isn’t something that’s going to happen in 5 posts. You can do it, just go with a little advance warning and make the path to death “logical” (as the supernatural universe can be). -To anyone who doesn’t know what he is, he is a monster (if they identify him as the killer). Keep in mind he can shapeshift to the form of those he touches, so one can lose the path without much difficulty (although I won’t make it stupidly impossible to track him, as that would just be boring roleplay). -his body looks like that of one of his particular favorite victims... -Yes, he can eat an Archangel. The above applies, though, and no Archangel will be eaten unless the GM steps in as God and destines my guy to mysteriously locate them to serve as a first course meal. Kaephypton Angelic Agent ---------------------------------------------- ”Without discipline, even the Angels can fall. Castiel taught us that.” ---------------------------------------------- (as of current host) Basics Height: 5’3 Age: Immortal (Among the first beings created by god, although younger than all Archangels) Gender: Identifies as male via his host. Body Type: Relatively fit, nothing special in that regard. Extended Personality The classic agent of heaven. He doesn’t understand just about any human convention to ever be created, having spent his time in heaven as more of a “poster child” and someone on hold, usually sent to 1v1 demons. He’s scornful of anyone who doesn’t uphold the highest of angelic ideals and feels dirty after a while of interacting with humans. He stands out like a sore thumb and tends to only identify demons and pursue them, or identify a tablet if he ever comes across one. His discipline is known across heaven, and to demons as well. Backstory <insert generic Angel life story here> The only thing to his existence that makes him stand out is his practice killing demons that heaven sends him to take out. He was sent to the mortal realm to find tablets by his superior, Talthael, who serves a small network of angels following the split in the Host’s leadership across various factions. He is, as of now, deemed “incorruptible” - the whole reason why he was sent in the first place. His life story was rather generic simply because he did everything he was supposed to, and not much more. The one thing in particular that is a soer subject is Michael, who he had looked up to as an idol until he vanished from Heaven. He holds a grudge gainst the winchesters and anyone who had connections with them, hear and far, fro their purpose in his fall. Family The angels. Other -He’s a practiced Demon killer. Anyone playing a demon must be extra careful to not bump into him, as he can identify demons very quickly (and demons are ultimately low on the scale compared to an angel). -He might be a comic relief character simply due to his complete old fashioned nature (the last time he interacted with humans was in the 1300’s, and still holds a “duel” mindset when it comes to solving disputes) and complete uselessness with modern technology. Anyone who introduces him to a computer better make a good impression, otherwise he might consider it a demon and hunt those too. -He’s not very friendly and especially nasty towards characters he feels are particularly sinful, and he has a good idea on the ones that genuinely are. -His angelic blade is specially designed to look like the kind used in the 1300’s. Characters should try not to laugh if he challenges them to a duel. -He has acquired his host by answering the prayer of a human businessman in his dreams. Nick Schaeffer Hunter ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ”I’m getting a little tired of being head-butted by overly horny ghosts that decided it was a good idea to bury their bones in a sealed coffin of concrete.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ <Insert Applicable Image Here> Basics Height: 5’4 Age: 53 Gender: Male Body Type: Well kept up, yet feeling the years. Extended Personality His days in hunting have allowed him to meet a large variety of people and a possibly larger variety of ghosts, vampires, skinwalkers… you name it. He doesn’t get surprised by much and counts himself lucky for having lived as long as he has - about three friends of his remain that he had met in his early years. Many hunters would have died by now. He is somewhat paranoid and always checks his guests, but once they are confirmed and if they are friends, he has a softer, more fatherly side. Sometimes he ends up rambling, which tends to only stop when the other person brings him back on topic. He firmly considers the idea of “an innocent monster” a load of bullshit and says that even if one committed a good deed, they would have a considerably longer rap sheet of dark deeds to account for. He’s a good hunter with considerable knowledge, but isn’t close to being the fastest anymore and will likely find his end in not too long. Backstory Born into a hunting family, Shaeffer grew up in a paranoid household that only trusted those who had just been tested and were known as family friends. Everyone else could be taken as an enemy. Schaeffer started hunting with his father when he was only 16, learning the ropes and doing quite a bit of reading in the family library. When his father died, he managed to hunt down the werewolf who had killed him… but the events surrounding that showdown are unclear. Some say that the werewolf is still alive… After that, Schaeffer took a much more active role in hunting, forming a small group of associates, in which he tended to be the “lookup” guy (the one to read the books and figure out how to take <x> creature down). The group evolved into a small network, in which he met various hunters, such as Otis Yates. The original team had all died before Shaeffer was 45 years old. He now takes an interest in Fermont, as from what he had read out of his library… the tablets were a quite big dea, although rather vaguely described.. His goal is to retrieve them and then find a Prophet to translate them in order to “win” the previously thought unbeatable war against monsters. Family His father, Hendrick Schaeffer, died when his son was 20. He never knew his mother, Melissa Schaeffer. Other than that, he was an only child and didn’t have very much family. He did have an uncle, George Burnett, who was also a hunter until he died at 46 chasing down a Wraith. Other -He's not too strong in melee at this point, but knows quite a bit. -He won't be recalling word-for-word as he can't exactly load up a library into his ford and bring all thousand or so books along. Or at least, he's too lazy. -He's older than most hunters live to see. Basically, he's testing fate by living this long. -Interacting characters who he doesn't know to be a monster right off the bat will be subject to the "silver knife" and "holy water" tests. He carries both around. Naturally, he's reasonable about it... not going to go too well to test everyone in a hotel, but if you want to get in the room, he's going to damn well test you. Talthael Seraphim Angelic Faction Leader ---------------------------------------------- ”Heaven is in a state of war, and it needs a guiding hand if it’s ever going to go somewhere. Me, I wouldn’t mind being that hand.” ---------------------------------------------- Basics Height: 5’6 Age: Immortal (angelic) Gender: Genderless as he appears in his true form to all angels. Body Type: Extended Personality Slimy at best, a deceiver at worst, he likes to think he’s in charge - but in fact, his faction hasn’t been doing well lately, losing ground to Naomi and other influential leaders; being reduced to few angels remaining in his ranks. He tends to make things look like they are considerably better than they actually are. He thinks that the tablets will give him the ultimate upper hand in the battle for leadership. Backstory A senior angel just below the rank of Archangel, he has been an influential member of Heaven for many millennia - although he has lagged behind others, preferring to work in the background instead of being on the front line of affairs. His primary authority came in the form of Michael’s support and approval. As such, Talthael was almost entirely dependent on him, and lost ground in the mad rush for power in Heaven to Naomi and others, losing support of all Saraphim that had once been under his command. He now holds a legacy of being Michael’s pawn, five odd angels (albeit, one of them is actually fairly powerful when it comes to the run-of-the-mill angel), and a few loose artifacts that he picked up. It is now the main reason as to why he wants the Angel tablet - if he can get his hand on the most relevant tablet to heaven, his status will be boosted considerably. Family The Angels Other -He is the superior of Kaephypton. -His interactions will mostly be in heaven; there is a low chance of him doing things for himself. -He might send someone else in the form of a minor character to assist the cause. -He’s always been a slimy character, being distinctly independent from the archangels while appeasing them when possible. He’s not very popular with them as a result. -In terms of angelic faction leaders, he’s rather low on the scale. That said, he is a potent angel in his own right. This will consist of NPC's that are used to make particular interactions function that can be taken over by other players, killed, etc as they wish, and ones that I won't bother with a full CS because they were made for something specific (ie, a ghost created to give hunters a little something to do) that other players can't control. NPC's will be marked as such IC if I use them, so ya know what you can godmod. None at the moment.

En essuyant ses mains encore sanglantes sur une serviette, Paimon a donné le cadavre une dernière fois avant qu'il ne parte. D'après ce qu'il pouvait dire jusqu'à présent, la présence de Dominique était marquée par plusieurs autres autour de lui, dont beaucoup étaient inhumaines. C'est quoi, ça? Peut-être que Taco Bell était plus populaire avec le surnaturel qu'il ne l'avait réalisé. Pourtant, il était trop loin pour être capable de percevoir des détails précis sur ces êtres. Mais peu importe ce qu'ils étaient, ce n'était rien qu'il ne pouvait gérer, n'est-ce pas? Shaking n'importe quel doute restant hors de sa tête, Paimon a travaillé à l'affinage sur l'emplacement de Dominique, et avec une métaphore swish-and-flick, il était parti. La prochaine chose qu'il savait, Paimon s'est retrouvé debout dans une ruelle, asphalté glissant avec de la glace et de la neige fondue. Il aimait penser que c'était une bonne pratique de donner à vos destinations un large poste d'amarrage. Après tout, on ne sait jamais qui ou ce que l'on pourrait rencontrer. Maintenant qu'il était plus proche, cependant, le démon commençait à ramasser tout l'éventail des signatures. Les âmes de chaque créature étaient différentes, et à part les humains et les démons, qu'il attendait -- il y en avait quelques autres. Un en particulier a attiré son attention, c'était quelque chose de primordial. Quelque chose d'ancien. À ce moment-là, Paimon s'est rendu compte exactement de ce qu'était cet être. Comment aurait-il pu être aussi aveugle? Dans toutes ses années sur la terre, une seule espèce de créature a donné une telle aura de faim et d'impuissance - Léviathan. Qu'est-ce qu'ils faisaient chez un Taco Bell? Paimon n'en avait aucune idée, mais il n'était pas sur le point de rester pour le découvrir. Une partie de lui divertit le choix de sortir l'enfer de l'esquive avant que les choses n'aillent inévitablement vers le sud, puisque vous savez, monstre tout-dévorant dès le début des temps? Même si vous étiez le commandant de deux cents légions de démons, cavortant avec l'un de... leur espèce, flirtait avec le désastre. Malheureusement, Païmon n'avait jamais été le plus prudent des démons, et une sorte de joie malade s'est glissée en lui à la chance d'être en mesure de voir l'une de ces bêtes de près. Bien sûr, il ne valait probablement pas le risque qu'il poserait à sa vie, mais les mots ‘jugement sain' n'existaient tout simplement pas dans le dictionnaire de Paimon. Se tenant les mains dans les poches, il s'est dirigé vers l'avant de l'immeuble. Le signe lumineux a été câblé dans une épaisse couche de poudre de neige, mais c'était un Taco Bell, d'accord. Le pourpre et le rose qui pénétraient sous le gel étaient des preuves suffisantes, bien que l'ambiance du dîner des années 50 qu'il donnait était un peu bizarre. Doucement, il a poussé la porte d'entrée, franchissant le seuil. Paimon scanna l'établissement pour Dominique, et s'installa pour rejoindre le jeune démon à sa cabine dès qu'il le regarda. "L'avez-vous vu? " Paimon questionné, pas si subtilement en train de lui mettre la tête pour regarder par-dessus son épaule. Il a failli rebondir avec excitation. Le Léviathan?

Madeleine de Lafontaine It's Hard To Get To Heaven, When You're Born Hell Bound. M'Lady / Maddie / Lafontaine Demon Madeleine stands at 5'4 with a slender hourglass figure, appearing to be in her mid twenties. 392 Female Madeleine is a seductress at heart. She enjoys toying with those she tends to kill and has a special hatred for human men after she died at the hands of her husband and saved her vessel from the same fate. Madeleine was beaten to death by her husband after committing adultery when she was 22 years old and was dragged into the pits of hell for her sins. Her anger allowed for her to quickly be stripped from her humanity and she wanted nothing more than revenge on the man who had killed. However, when her demonic visage finally revealed itself, her bastard husband was already dead. This was when she came upon a young maiden who was about to be hung. As she screamed for mercy from the men around her, begging her husband to stop his madness. Madeleine realized how she might gain her revenge and possessed her. The girl's pleas fell into quiet whimpering as the stool she stood upon was toss from under her feet and the rope tightened around her next as she fell. She did not die. Instead, she held eyes with the man who stood in front of her, a cruel smile playing on her lips. Reaching above her, Madeleine grabbed hold of the rope and with a large yank, the branch she was hanging from snapped. After brushing herself off, Madeleine mascaraed the men who had gathered to watch the woman's death before she destroyed the town. The demon has lived her life like this since. She bares a scar from the rope as a reminder of the cruelty of human men.

Abyzu, ses yeux rouges clignotaient d'amusement à quel point Tod semblait être inconfortable, "Appelez-moi Abby." Elle étendit sa main lentement, testant simplement les eaux avec ces deux-là. Elle regarda brièvement un regard laid qui éclairait sa façon, mais l'ignorait. Elle pouvait le sentir et elle savait ce qu'il était. Elle était là depuis longtemps. Ce qui l'intéressait le plus, c'est la curieuse quantité de paranormal autour de son carrefour d'aujourd'hui.

RAGUEL ARCHANGEL OF JUSTICE, FAIRNESS, VENGEANCE, AND HARMONY "I LAY TO REST THE WICKED" "ASSBUTT" BASICS CHARACTER FULL NAME: Raguel NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Reggie HEIGHT: 5' 9" BODY TYPE: Mesomorph, athletic, bottom heavy. AGE: Appears about 26 GENDER: None; goes by "she" PERSONALITY: Raguel is just as clueless as most of her angel brethren, but she finds humanity more fascinating than most. She's particularly interested in their need for pleasure and self satisfaction. She's ruthless and righteous, like any good angel, but she secretly has a mind of her own. She hasn't met her prophet yet but she deeply wants to. She almost wishes something bad would happen to him/her so that she could appear to save the day. Her main traits are basically summed up in her title. Justice and Vengeance: she tries her very hardest to make sure everyone gets what they deserve. Fairness and Harmony: she loves conflict, but not stupid conflict, so she strives to keep order. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: God SIBLINGS: All angels EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Pamela Vander (the prophet she guards) HISTORY (OPTIONAL): None yet, I develop characters through roleplay. EXTRA INFORMATION: N/A ABYZU CROSSROADS DEMON "BOY, THERE ISN'T ROOM IN YOUR PANTS." (picture is.. under construction) BASICS APPEARANCE: short, fire engine red hair, red eyes, dark skin. CHARACTER FULL NAME: Abyzu NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Abby HEIGHT: 5' 9" BODY TYPE: Ectomorph, average AGE: Appears about 32 GENDER: None; goes by "she" PERSONALITY: Abyzu is the best employee Crowley could ever ask for. She's sadistic and hateful, her deals are always sealed quickly and quietly, and she enjoys pain. So much pain. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: N/A EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: N/A HISTORY: Abby takes the souls of children. Her power comes from these souls. EXTRA INFORMATION: She has a thing for flirting. PAMELA VANDER PROPHET OF THE LORD "WAIT.. WHAT?" (picture is under construction) BASICS APPEARANCE: Portly, short, mousy, silver hair, one green eye, one yellow eye, crooked smile. CHARACTER FULL NAME: Pamela Vander NICK NAME OR ALIAS: None HEIGHT: 5' 6" BODY TYPE: Mesomorph, skinny, out of shape AGE: 14 GENDER: Female PERSONALITY: Pamela is always very confused. She doesn't do very well in school and she has a hard time concentrating on one thing at a time. She has a habit of refusing to do things she doesn't want to. She's a little lazy and kind of selfish, but her heart is in the right place. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: Daren Vander (he won't be mentioned) EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Raguel (the Archangel who guards her) HISTORY (OPTIONAL): EXTRA INFORMATION: Pamela secretly got a tattoo of a half moon with a wolf's paw for her brother.

Tod prit la main, seulement parce que Micheal était encore occupée. Il se demandait quel était son angle. Demons, dans son expérience, a toujours eu un jeu de fin et ils ont utilisé ce qui signifie toujours nécessaire pour y arriver. Tod pouvait sentir l'intention malveillante venant du monstre dans le coin et ses cheveux se sont levés. Quand deux autres démons sont entrés, il a décidé qu'il était temps d'y aller, mais Micheal mangeait encore, alors ils ont dû attendre. "Qu'est-ce qui t'amène dans cette ville?" Tod a demandé à Abby. Il espérait seulement que ce n'était pas pour commencer les ennuis avec eux. [En anglais seulement] ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Micheal s'assit là et regarda les deux convers. Il se sentait comme un enfant à une conférence parents-enseignants. Il a regardé le mystère "il". Il a finalement sorti son doigt des menottes et leur nourriture a été ramenée. Alors qu'il mangeait, il se demandait pourquoi cette ville avait attiré tant de créatures différentes. Puis il sentit deux autres démons entrer dans l'établissement. Cela avait commencé à l'inquiéter mais pas beaucoup à montrer. "Pas pour être impoli, mais qu'est-ce que c'est là-bas. Je demande parce que je sais que vous savez." Il a demandé à Abby avec un sourire sur son visage et de l'excitation dans ses yeux.

Micheal Von Jence CHARACTER FULL NAME: Micheal Von Jence AGE, SPECIES: 459 years old, Fairy (Wicked Witch) NICK NAME OR ALIAS: MJ (The Witch Doctor) HEIGHT: 5'10 BODY TYPE: Toned, Slim AGE: Looks about 18 GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: Micheal is a meticulous intellectual, the "scientist" of the fairy community. He is highly narcissistic and extremely flamboyant, tending to make lewd, disturbing comments about people he doesn't like. Micheal is quite sadistic, viewing others as little more than research material. He thinks poorly of humans, hoping someone will someday wipe them all out of existence. He thinks of himself as an actor, treating his battles like theatrical performances, especially when toying with his victims. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: N/A PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: Jon(Younger Brother), Anna(Older Sister) EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Another Witch (good) named Alice, the only other one he can tolerate. HISTORY: Micheal was born at the start of the slave trade in the 16th century. He grew up in luxury and endless help. Everyone in his family are witches and he was no exception. As a child he would bully human children with his gifts and play endless tricks on his siblings. When he got older he learned to harness his gifts and became a fully fledged witch. He decided to live the life of a scientist and experiment on what ever he can. This is were his dark nature grew from. The only one who has ever seen the "good" side of him is his friend Alice. In his 300s he tamed an Arachne named Tod and they have been companions ever since. EXTRA INFORMATION: His 100 year old pet snake. Tom James CHARACTER FULL NAME: Tom James AGE, SPECIES: 200 years old, Arachne NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Tommy (The Golden One) HEIGHT: 6'2 BODY TYPE: Muscular, Toned, Rugged AGE: Looks about early 30s GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: Tom is an honest man. He has never been one to shy from the truth, and is always FRIENDS AND FAMILY: Micheal (his owner) PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: N/A EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: His maker Jeana. HISTORY: Tom was turned when he was 30. He was at his birthday party and Jeana turned him as a "gift". He has been miserable ever since. Having to fed on humanity on a weekly basis and not having any support. At one point he even tired to become a wanderer. Going from place to place. Trying not to feed but failing miserably. He never truly let go of his human nature until he went south. Down in the south he met Micheal. At first he dismissed him as some rude punk but he never wold have thought he was a 200 year old fairy. He began to hang around Micheal even more and earned the name pest. Then one day he saved his life and Micheal rewarded him by buying him. He told Tom that in exchange for his life he would make sure he could be himself and never be lonely, and they have been together ever since. EXTRA INFORMATION: His makers spider type was, Black Widow, so he inherited the Gold Orb Weaver Genes. His maker Jeana. She can also be used an NPC.

Buddy, c'est la même Terre qu'elle a été. Je ne sais pas où tu étais, mais c'était sûr que l'enfer n'était pas sur Terre. Atlas soupira, secouant la tête alors qu'il prenait une traînée de sa cigarette. Vous penseriez que celui qui a envoyé ce nouveau ici qu'ils lui apprendraient au moins sur la vie humaine de nos jours. Le paradis était vraiment dirigé par des idiots de nos jours... En parlant du ciel, son ange chéri était venu le voir. Plus ou moins le traqué du casino qu'il a deviné, parce que la première façon qu'elle l'a accueilli était d'être gentil avec l'ange très inintelligent. "Bon? J'ai eu ce type d'être frappé par une voiture, et le gars qui conduisait la voiture d'être coupé en morceaux par ce lunatique iestalgique qui pense que tout est un démon... J'ai fait ma bonne action pour la journée." Atlas s'est ébranlé la tête en soufflant de petites bouffées de fumée dans l'air. "Ce n'est pas ma faute s'il n'a pas été enseigné sur les humains par quelque sorte de direction idiote qu'ils aient en train de faire là-haut."

CHARACTER NAME: Atlas, Arch Angel of Balance, Order, and Chaos AGE, SPECIES: Thousands of years, Arch Angel "Bring order and balance to the world, no matter the cost." BASICS CHARACTER FULL NAME: Atlas Cage NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Atlas HEIGHT: 6'3 BODY TYPE: Muscular, toned and fit AGE: Looks to be about 23 GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: Has good morales but will go about his duties as he sees fit. It doesn't matter if he has to kill in order to get a job accomplished, the divine order is above all. Other than this he is usually a bit of a flirt, sarcastic, know-it-all, kind of an asshole to most, but does have a sweet and caring side to him (Although rarely anybody gets there) FRIENDS AND FAMILY: N/A PARENTS: God SIBLINGS: All other Angels EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: N/A HISTORY: Atlas is a powerful archangel who is sort of the outcast of the bunch. He resides most of his time on earth, holding up justice and the order there and isn't too heavenly sometimes. Always been a loner, he spends his time flirting with woman, drinking, gambling, just having fun and being reckless through the body he attained of a wealthy playboy millionaire who was heavily religious and wanted nothing more than a very powerful Arch Angel to embody him. For this most of the other angels do not take a liking to Atlas, but he is one of the most powerful and does uphold their morales and help fight in their name better than most, so they tolerate him. EXTRA INFORMATION: Has the abilities of an Arch Angel.

Atlas, Olesya a mis un peu en garde car il a refusé de jouer agréable avec le nouvel ange et à son tour cracher sur ceux qui ont travaillé au Ciel pour envoyer des anges sur Terre. Elle lâcha son bras et marcha entre lui et le nouvel ange, un sourire doux jouant sur ses lèvres, "Eh bien, comme vous pouvez le voir beaucoup a changé depuis le 15ème siècle et les humains ont fait des sauts sur les limites de la technologie. Par exemple, au lieu d'avoir à passer notre peinture, ils peuvent maintenant," Elle s'est arrêtée alors qu'elle sortait son téléphone et a rapidement pris une photo, "Capturez le monde autour de nous bien plus vite que nous ne l'avons jamais pu auparavant. Ce qui signifie aussi que nous, en tant que visiteurs ici, devons être plus discrets dans nos événements. Même les choses que nous croyons vont passer inaperçues parfois se faire attraper par les humains et cela peut causer... des problèmes pour tous ceux qui sont impliqués." Elle a tenu ses mains devant elle-même, "Maintenant, pourquoi ne me permettez-vous pas de vous mettre un peu à l'heure sur Terre pour que vous ne mettiez pas accidentellement plus d'humains en danger. Je crois que ce serait dans tous nos intérêts. » Zerena a glissé dans sa chambre et a fermé la porte derrière elle avant qu'elle ne jette ses affaires par terre par la porte. L'endroit était dégueulasse... elle avait l'impression que les draps n'étaient pas lavés aussi souvent qu'ils devraient l'être et elle était à peu près positive que la couverture qui était sur eux n'ait pas été lavée depuis des semaines. Elle soupira et dépouilla la couverture, la laissant avec juste les draps sur le lit, pensant que ce serait probablement plus clair de cette façon. Elle a remis son ordinateur portable sur le bureau dans le coin avant d'enlever ses produits de première nécessité de son sac et de se diriger vers la douche. Une fois qu'elle a été propre, l'odeur du raisin qui sortait un peu d'elle, elle est retournée dans la pièce principale et s'est habillée. Puis elle est venue sortir la dernière chose dont elle avait besoin pour faire de cet endroit sa maison temporaire. En marchant jusqu'à la porte, elle l'ouvrit et versa une ligne de sel propre juste à l'extérieur. Si la porte ne s'est pas baladée, menaçant de perturber la ligne, elle aurait pu le faire à l'intérieur, mais malheureusement ce n'était pas comme ça que la plupart des portes de la chambre d'hôtel fonctionnaient. Fermant une fois de plus la porte, elle est passée à la fenêtre et a fait la même chose, versant le sel le long du seuil de la fenêtre. Avec tout un peu plus sûr, elle est allée à son bureau et a commencé à chercher un autre travail à entreprendre le matin.

IAN COSDEN HUNTER "Small tricks won't work on me... Sweetheart" "Dude!?! Really!?! Loosen up a little!!" Full name: Ian Cosden Alias: Jackson Wright Height: 5'11" Body type: Thin yet muscular Age: Just barely 22 Gender: Male MAYLA BETHELL SKINWALKER "Have you seen the world through the eyes of a dog??... No!! Then don't assume you know anything." Skinwalker form: Full name: Mayla Bethell Nickname: May Heigth: 4'11" Body type: Thin and a little lanky Age: 10 Gender: Female

Schaeffer lui a cogné la lame sur le poignet, avec un peu de sang qui sortait comme d'habitude. Il a montré une réaction presque nulle; c'était une procédure standard, après tout. Il a ensuite soulevé le flacon comme un toast et a nettoyé efficacement la plaie avec le liquide. Le sang s'est lavé normalement, sans aucune réaction étrange. Il s'est mécontenté quand on lui a posé des questions sur ses relations ici. « J'ai toujours eu du mal à trouver des alliés par ici. J'avais un atout digne de confiance qui n'a pas répondu depuis le mois dernier, et si quoi que ce soit, cet endroit tend à attirer les jeunes et les monstres plus que de bonnes connexions. » "J'ai entendu parler d'un artefact... d'une tablette... par ici." Il a rapidement vérifié autour de lui juste après avoir dit cela, en essayant de passer sa procédure inversée comme normal. "Avez-vous entendu parler de ça?" Kaephypton a hurlé à contrecœur. "Je suppose que c'est un monde étrange de nos jours. Talthael n'a jamais mentionné ces... les voitures." Il se demandait pourquoi cet endroit avait, d'après ce qu'il pouvait deviner, trois anges, y compris lui-même. La serveuse est revenue avec une tasse d'eau. Quand elle l'a posé, Redmond a bien regardé et sniffé dessus. Ce n'était pas la chose la plus étrange que la serveuse ait vue toute la journée... mais ça n'a pas aidé sa santé mentale non plus. "J'ai demandé de l'eau, oui? Et j'ai mentionné ce que je voulais?" La serveuse a hurlé. "Alors qu'est-ce qu'un citron... fait ici?" il a pointé sur le citron tout en lui donnant un regard. Il n'a pas élevé la voix, mais son ton était assez clair. "Désolé... Je peux en avoir un autre." Elle a déménagé pour prendre la tasse. "Non... non... laisse ça." Il l'a regardée. Tu déjeunes... Elle s'est presque effondrée alors qu'elle marchait vers les toilettes de l'autre côté du restaurant, disparaissant dans la chambre des dames. Une demi-minute plus tard, Redmond se leva et marcha dans la même direction. C'est l'heure du déjeuner.

Redmond Drayer Surviving Leviathan ---------------------------------------------- ”Dick Roman fit his name in more ways than one. Now that he’s gone, I can do things the right way...” ---------------------------------------------- Basics Height: 5’6 Age: Immortal (first creation of God, so… fits the age rather well) Gender: Takes the form of a male. Body Type: Extended Personality Not the strongest of Leviathans, Redmond has always disagreed with Roman’s policy of senseless or even systematic assimilation of all into a single, controllable host. Redmond prefers chaos and lack of unity; something which makes it easier for him to act without those knowing. Unfortunately for him, he was one of the last of his kind to have been created and therefore one of the youngest; that leaves him at a disadvantage compared to others. However, with his old hated boss gone, he has explored new possibilities - including the expansion of his own inherent powers to include more… celestial representations. Not that this has worked yet, but he’s not going to give up. It’s rather difficult to stop him, so that has only helped to boost his confidence. He is more sadistic than other Leviathan‘s and may attempt to deliver beings expressing their powers in overly obvious ways (read: OP players) an “entertaining” first class ticket to his main course dinner plate. That said, he’s not stupid; he can cover his tracks well from the average hunter and can fool other beings that may or may not even know what he is. Backstory One of the last Leviathans to be created, he was more of a grunt power wise for the strongest of his kind, known as Dick Roman most recently. However, he always secretly despised how the others adhered to a policy of combining “Illuminati” style domination of others with dull feeding. Redmond liked chaos and picking his victims that had the most chance of realizing just where the threat would be coming from. Purgatory was his favorite place. It had all the chaos he could want; he was top of the food chain and enjoyed himself even as the others hated it. That made him the opposite of the other Leviathans when taken out of Purgatory by Castiel - he half-heartedly took up the side task of hunting and eating Castiel even as he was sent to take out others who were providing a fuss, such as the hunter Frank. Alas, he never met up with his goal, and tended to be elsewhere when the real action was happening. It did, however, save him from being one of those sucked to Purgatory by the death of Roman; he was far out of range and was one of the few to be left wandering the world. When he heard of Roman’s death, he hadn’t been so happy since he first discovered the nature of Purgatory. he went up in Alaska for a while, killing hunters and those who strayed off the trail, before picking up on the news of the “hot spot”, as the contacts who brought it to his attention called it. It was at that point that he decided to head to Fremont, the hotspot that had been called by his contacts “the big one” (at least, before he cleaned up loose ends and ate the said contacts…) Family If you’re Leviathan, you’re his brother (or sister?). Other -This character will be mostly killing NPC’s, but if you want to meet up with him in the course of roleplay to have the experience of fighting (and quite possibly dying to) a Leviathan, feel free. -If characters step way too out of line power wise or blatantly kill other player’s characters without any sort of advance warning or discussion, they might wake up (or turn around) to find a less than attractive mouth coming at them… -All normal ways to disable a Leviathan apply, and are a little more effective than on others if anything. At this point, nobody can make him “bib” because nobody has the authority. -The one known way to kill one isn’t something that’s going to happen in 5 posts. You can do it, just go with a little advance warning and make the path to death “logical” (as the supernatural universe can be). -To anyone who doesn’t know what he is, he is a monster (if they identify him as the killer). Keep in mind he can shapeshift to the form of those he touches, so one can lose the path without much difficulty (although I won’t make it stupidly impossible to track him, as that would just be boring roleplay). -his body looks like that of one of his particular favorite victims... -Yes, he can eat an Archangel. The above applies, though, and no Archangel will be eaten unless the GM steps in as God and destines my guy to mysteriously locate them to serve as a first course meal. Kaephypton Angelic Agent ---------------------------------------------- ”Without discipline, even the Angels can fall. Castiel taught us that.” ---------------------------------------------- (as of current host) Basics Height: 5’3 Age: Immortal (Among the first beings created by god, although younger than all Archangels) Gender: Identifies as male via his host. Body Type: Relatively fit, nothing special in that regard. Extended Personality The classic agent of heaven. He doesn’t understand just about any human convention to ever be created, having spent his time in heaven as more of a “poster child” and someone on hold, usually sent to 1v1 demons. He’s scornful of anyone who doesn’t uphold the highest of angelic ideals and feels dirty after a while of interacting with humans. He stands out like a sore thumb and tends to only identify demons and pursue them, or identify a tablet if he ever comes across one. His discipline is known across heaven, and to demons as well. Backstory <insert generic Angel life story here> The only thing to his existence that makes him stand out is his practice killing demons that heaven sends him to take out. He was sent to the mortal realm to find tablets by his superior, Talthael, who serves a small network of angels following the split in the Host’s leadership across various factions. He is, as of now, deemed “incorruptible” - the whole reason why he was sent in the first place. His life story was rather generic simply because he did everything he was supposed to, and not much more. The one thing in particular that is a soer subject is Michael, who he had looked up to as an idol until he vanished from Heaven. He holds a grudge gainst the winchesters and anyone who had connections with them, hear and far, fro their purpose in his fall. Family The angels. Other -He’s a practiced Demon killer. Anyone playing a demon must be extra careful to not bump into him, as he can identify demons very quickly (and demons are ultimately low on the scale compared to an angel). -He might be a comic relief character simply due to his complete old fashioned nature (the last time he interacted with humans was in the 1300’s, and still holds a “duel” mindset when it comes to solving disputes) and complete uselessness with modern technology. Anyone who introduces him to a computer better make a good impression, otherwise he might consider it a demon and hunt those too. -He’s not very friendly and especially nasty towards characters he feels are particularly sinful, and he has a good idea on the ones that genuinely are. -His angelic blade is specially designed to look like the kind used in the 1300’s. Characters should try not to laugh if he challenges them to a duel. -He has acquired his host by answering the prayer of a human businessman in his dreams. Nick Schaeffer Hunter ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ”I’m getting a little tired of being head-butted by overly horny ghosts that decided it was a good idea to bury their bones in a sealed coffin of concrete.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ <Insert Applicable Image Here> Basics Height: 5’4 Age: 53 Gender: Male Body Type: Well kept up, yet feeling the years. Extended Personality His days in hunting have allowed him to meet a large variety of people and a possibly larger variety of ghosts, vampires, skinwalkers… you name it. He doesn’t get surprised by much and counts himself lucky for having lived as long as he has - about three friends of his remain that he had met in his early years. Many hunters would have died by now. He is somewhat paranoid and always checks his guests, but once they are confirmed and if they are friends, he has a softer, more fatherly side. Sometimes he ends up rambling, which tends to only stop when the other person brings him back on topic. He firmly considers the idea of “an innocent monster” a load of bullshit and says that even if one committed a good deed, they would have a considerably longer rap sheet of dark deeds to account for. He’s a good hunter with considerable knowledge, but isn’t close to being the fastest anymore and will likely find his end in not too long. Backstory Born into a hunting family, Shaeffer grew up in a paranoid household that only trusted those who had just been tested and were known as family friends. Everyone else could be taken as an enemy. Schaeffer started hunting with his father when he was only 16, learning the ropes and doing quite a bit of reading in the family library. When his father died, he managed to hunt down the werewolf who had killed him… but the events surrounding that showdown are unclear. Some say that the werewolf is still alive… After that, Schaeffer took a much more active role in hunting, forming a small group of associates, in which he tended to be the “lookup” guy (the one to read the books and figure out how to take <x> creature down). The group evolved into a small network, in which he met various hunters, such as Otis Yates. The original team had all died before Shaeffer was 45 years old. He now takes an interest in Fermont, as from what he had read out of his library… the tablets were a quite big dea, although rather vaguely described.. His goal is to retrieve them and then find a Prophet to translate them in order to “win” the previously thought unbeatable war against monsters. Family His father, Hendrick Schaeffer, died when his son was 20. He never knew his mother, Melissa Schaeffer. Other than that, he was an only child and didn’t have very much family. He did have an uncle, George Burnett, who was also a hunter until he died at 46 chasing down a Wraith. Other -He's not too strong in melee at this point, but knows quite a bit. -He won't be recalling word-for-word as he can't exactly load up a library into his ford and bring all thousand or so books along. Or at least, he's too lazy. -He's older than most hunters live to see. Basically, he's testing fate by living this long. -Interacting characters who he doesn't know to be a monster right off the bat will be subject to the "silver knife" and "holy water" tests. He carries both around. Naturally, he's reasonable about it... not going to go too well to test everyone in a hotel, but if you want to get in the room, he's going to damn well test you. Talthael Seraphim Angelic Faction Leader ---------------------------------------------- ”Heaven is in a state of war, and it needs a guiding hand if it’s ever going to go somewhere. Me, I wouldn’t mind being that hand.” ---------------------------------------------- Basics Height: 5’6 Age: Immortal (angelic) Gender: Genderless as he appears in his true form to all angels. Body Type: Extended Personality Slimy at best, a deceiver at worst, he likes to think he’s in charge - but in fact, his faction hasn’t been doing well lately, losing ground to Naomi and other influential leaders; being reduced to few angels remaining in his ranks. He tends to make things look like they are considerably better than they actually are. He thinks that the tablets will give him the ultimate upper hand in the battle for leadership. Backstory A senior angel just below the rank of Archangel, he has been an influential member of Heaven for many millennia - although he has lagged behind others, preferring to work in the background instead of being on the front line of affairs. His primary authority came in the form of Michael’s support and approval. As such, Talthael was almost entirely dependent on him, and lost ground in the mad rush for power in Heaven to Naomi and others, losing support of all Saraphim that had once been under his command. He now holds a legacy of being Michael’s pawn, five odd angels (albeit, one of them is actually fairly powerful when it comes to the run-of-the-mill angel), and a few loose artifacts that he picked up. It is now the main reason as to why he wants the Angel tablet - if he can get his hand on the most relevant tablet to heaven, his status will be boosted considerably. Family The Angels Other -He is the superior of Kaephypton. -His interactions will mostly be in heaven; there is a low chance of him doing things for himself. -He might send someone else in the form of a minor character to assist the cause. -He’s always been a slimy character, being distinctly independent from the archangels while appeasing them when possible. He’s not very popular with them as a result. -In terms of angelic faction leaders, he’s rather low on the scale. That said, he is a potent angel in his own right. This will consist of NPC's that are used to make particular interactions function that can be taken over by other players, killed, etc as they wish, and ones that I won't bother with a full CS because they were made for something specific (ie, a ghost created to give hunters a little something to do) that other players can't control. NPC's will be marked as such IC if I use them, so ya know what you can godmod. None at the moment.

Je cours le carrefour dehors, Abyzu a agité son poignet sanschalant à Tod. Ce n'était pas un mensonge, mais elle omettait délibérément des informations d'eux. Pour l'instant, au moins. Elle regarda Micaël brièvement avant de suivre sa mention et de chuckling. -- Leviathan, dit-elle hurlant, regardant la créature se lever et suivre la pauvre serveuse, et il est sur le point de manger la jolie tête rouge.

RAGUEL ARCHANGEL OF JUSTICE, FAIRNESS, VENGEANCE, AND HARMONY "I LAY TO REST THE WICKED" "ASSBUTT" BASICS CHARACTER FULL NAME: Raguel NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Reggie HEIGHT: 5' 9" BODY TYPE: Mesomorph, athletic, bottom heavy. AGE: Appears about 26 GENDER: None; goes by "she" PERSONALITY: Raguel is just as clueless as most of her angel brethren, but she finds humanity more fascinating than most. She's particularly interested in their need for pleasure and self satisfaction. She's ruthless and righteous, like any good angel, but she secretly has a mind of her own. She hasn't met her prophet yet but she deeply wants to. She almost wishes something bad would happen to him/her so that she could appear to save the day. Her main traits are basically summed up in her title. Justice and Vengeance: she tries her very hardest to make sure everyone gets what they deserve. Fairness and Harmony: she loves conflict, but not stupid conflict, so she strives to keep order. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: God SIBLINGS: All angels EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Pamela Vander (the prophet she guards) HISTORY (OPTIONAL): None yet, I develop characters through roleplay. EXTRA INFORMATION: N/A ABYZU CROSSROADS DEMON "BOY, THERE ISN'T ROOM IN YOUR PANTS." (picture is.. under construction) BASICS APPEARANCE: short, fire engine red hair, red eyes, dark skin. CHARACTER FULL NAME: Abyzu NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Abby HEIGHT: 5' 9" BODY TYPE: Ectomorph, average AGE: Appears about 32 GENDER: None; goes by "she" PERSONALITY: Abyzu is the best employee Crowley could ever ask for. She's sadistic and hateful, her deals are always sealed quickly and quietly, and she enjoys pain. So much pain. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: N/A EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: N/A HISTORY: Abby takes the souls of children. Her power comes from these souls. EXTRA INFORMATION: She has a thing for flirting. PAMELA VANDER PROPHET OF THE LORD "WAIT.. WHAT?" (picture is under construction) BASICS APPEARANCE: Portly, short, mousy, silver hair, one green eye, one yellow eye, crooked smile. CHARACTER FULL NAME: Pamela Vander NICK NAME OR ALIAS: None HEIGHT: 5' 6" BODY TYPE: Mesomorph, skinny, out of shape AGE: 14 GENDER: Female PERSONALITY: Pamela is always very confused. She doesn't do very well in school and she has a hard time concentrating on one thing at a time. She has a habit of refusing to do things she doesn't want to. She's a little lazy and kind of selfish, but her heart is in the right place. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: Daren Vander (he won't be mentioned) EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Raguel (the Archangel who guards her) HISTORY (OPTIONAL): EXTRA INFORMATION: Pamela secretly got a tattoo of a half moon with a wolf's paw for her brother.

M. Dominique, Président de la Commission des droits de l'homme et des droits de l'homme, Président de la Commission des droits de l'homme et Président de la Commission des droits de l'homme. "Oui... Attends, ce mec est un levvie? Oh merde, donc c'est ce que l'étrange reek voulait dire... » Dom a enterré son visage dans ses mains, se branlant à sa propre incompétence. Ses yeux restèrent sur l'ancienne créature, en regardant le leviathan suivre la serveuse vers le dos. "On dirait que la merde est sur le point de tomber. Ou mangé. Heureusement que ce n'est pas nous." Il a ronflé. Dom s'assit correctement dans son siège, lui ôta les yeux de la malheureuse fille, puis s'appuya sur le vieux démon. "Donc, le mot dans la rue est, il y a cette relique - 'Demon Tablet', pour être précis." Il l'a dit d'un ton brouillé. "Quelques boules bizarres m'en ont parlé lors d'une de nos chasses et je n'ai jamais été aussi impatient d'en savoir plus sur des knick-knacks inestimables. Ce n'est pas moi, tu sais? Mais de toute façon, le mec a dit que toutes nos informations étaient gravées sur ce satané morceau de roche. Des conneries de 'Word of God'." En mettant l'accent sur "Bullshit", Dom s'est moqué. "Je ne veux jamais embrouiller avec ce type, papa Lucy a dit que ce ne sera pas bon pour nous. Cependant, je pense que nous devons le faire. Le plus important, c'est que s'il atterrissait, disons les mains d'un chasseur, cela signifierait l'éradication de centaines d'entre nous par jour... et c'est ici que nous entrons. Ça peut sembler long, mais presque tout le monde en enfer est au courant. Donc si on ne peut pas le localiser, peut-être au moins quelqu'un d'autre le peut. Alors, qu'en pensez-vous? Pourquoi n'apportons-nous pas une graisse de coude à la recherche? Imaginez le sentiment d'avoir le droit de se vanter de sauver notre espèce! Oh et, en fait, sauver notre espèce." Il a suggéré avec enthousiasme. Pour être juste, il n'était même pas sûr si Paimon en avait entendu la plupart après avoir commencé le discours sans rien commander du menu d'abord.

.

Mayla avait presque abandonné l'espoir qu'elle verrait quelqu'un marcher dans la rue qui serait prêt à prendre dans quelqu'un qui ressemblait à un chien. Tout le monde conduisait dans les voitures. Il n'y aurait personne qui se promènerait si tard la nuit. Surtout quand il faisait si froid. C'était jusqu'à ce qu'elle trouve quelqu'un, enfin, marchant vers elle. Il semblait occupé par son propre esprit. Jeter le bourgeon de cigarette pour en retirer un autre. Laisser crier à l'aide du jeune homme, captiver son attention lorsqu'il a levé les yeux pour voir d'où venait le bruit. Laisser sortir encore un autre a finalement obtenu son attention pour la regarder directement. Pendant un moment, ils se fixaient les uns les autres. Elle lui a demandé de l'aide, il s'est demandé si elle était juste dans son esprit ou si elle était vraiment assise là, comme frissonnant petit Pitbull. Apparemment abandonné et seul. Après la troisième voiture est passée. Ian a remis ses cigarettes dans sa poche. Ayant pris la décision que cette pauvre chose avait l'air d'avoir besoin de son aide. Les abris étaient fermés avec le temps. Il ne pouvait pas la laisser assise ici pour se figer à mort à l'heure où le matin roulait, ou la laisser ici pour avoir quelqu'un d'autre la trouver. Lentement, il s'approchait du chien, pas dans un million d'années il ne penserait jamais qu'elle était un skinwalker, pas un chien normal. Quelque chose a déclenché un avertissement quand Mayla est venue à lui. Il l'a rapidement écartée, car sa main chaude l'a pataugée doucement pour s'assurer qu'elle n'était pas blessée.

IAN COSDEN HUNTER "Small tricks won't work on me... Sweetheart" "Dude!?! Really!?! Loosen up a little!!" Full name: Ian Cosden Alias: Jackson Wright Height: 5'11" Body type: Thin yet muscular Age: Just barely 22 Gender: Male MAYLA BETHELL SKINWALKER "Have you seen the world through the eyes of a dog??... No!! Then don't assume you know anything." Skinwalker form: Full name: Mayla Bethell Nickname: May Heigth: 4'11" Body type: Thin and a little lanky Age: 10 Gender: Female

Redmond a glissé dans la salle de bain des dames ((Attendez une minute?...)). Il a sorti une petite fiole de sang de sa poche latérale et l'a mis par la porte. C'est du corps qu'il se présente actuellement comme ; il serait utile qu'il ait un jour une course avec un chasseur, ne serait-ce que pour les tromper pendant un petit moment. Il préférait un corps masculin par nature, mais il passerait à la forme féminine juste pour qu'il puisse manger les autres employés. C'est l'heure du déjeuner. Il s'est rendu compte que la manger sur place ferait du bruit, donc il a prévu de l'assommer un peu et de la manger après avoir pris l'apparence du manager et fermé le restaurant. Avec son plan à l'esprit, il s'est faufilé au coin de la rue, restant bas pour qu'elle ne le voie pas dans le miroir. Non pas qu'elle le ferait de toute façon ; son visage était enterré dans ses mains et elle semblait avoir une dépression mentale. Il s'est relevé quand il était derrière elle sous un angle. Quelques secondes plus tard, elle a enfin levé les yeux, surprise de remplir son visage rapidement. Il l'a cognée proprement sur le côté de la tête pour qu'elle ne se mette pas à crier. Il a clin d'œil alors qu'elle tombait solidement sur le sol, lui frappait la tête et la frappait pour de bon. Bruit... il l'a traînée dans un stand et l'a positionnée là-bas. Ne t'en va pas... il a touché son épaule, en supposant sa forme et en rétrécissant un peu de taille. S'il n'était pas ce qu'il était, il serait très faible en effet... comment survit-elle dans ce corps merdique? Il n'a même pas vu de muscle dessus. Il (ou, à partir de maintenant, elle) est retourné par la porte. Elle était heureuse que son pouvoir lui ait permis de copier des vêtements aussi - ce serait un supplément ennuyeux à traiter. Amusons-nous un peu... elle a envisagé d'aller dans le dos et d'attirer les gens, mais il y avait une foule d'êtres méchants pour... comment ont-ils appelé ça? Oh oui, troll.

Redmond Drayer Surviving Leviathan ---------------------------------------------- ”Dick Roman fit his name in more ways than one. Now that he’s gone, I can do things the right way...” ---------------------------------------------- Basics Height: 5’6 Age: Immortal (first creation of God, so… fits the age rather well) Gender: Takes the form of a male. Body Type: Extended Personality Not the strongest of Leviathans, Redmond has always disagreed with Roman’s policy of senseless or even systematic assimilation of all into a single, controllable host. Redmond prefers chaos and lack of unity; something which makes it easier for him to act without those knowing. Unfortunately for him, he was one of the last of his kind to have been created and therefore one of the youngest; that leaves him at a disadvantage compared to others. However, with his old hated boss gone, he has explored new possibilities - including the expansion of his own inherent powers to include more… celestial representations. Not that this has worked yet, but he’s not going to give up. It’s rather difficult to stop him, so that has only helped to boost his confidence. He is more sadistic than other Leviathan‘s and may attempt to deliver beings expressing their powers in overly obvious ways (read: OP players) an “entertaining” first class ticket to his main course dinner plate. That said, he’s not stupid; he can cover his tracks well from the average hunter and can fool other beings that may or may not even know what he is. Backstory One of the last Leviathans to be created, he was more of a grunt power wise for the strongest of his kind, known as Dick Roman most recently. However, he always secretly despised how the others adhered to a policy of combining “Illuminati” style domination of others with dull feeding. Redmond liked chaos and picking his victims that had the most chance of realizing just where the threat would be coming from. Purgatory was his favorite place. It had all the chaos he could want; he was top of the food chain and enjoyed himself even as the others hated it. That made him the opposite of the other Leviathans when taken out of Purgatory by Castiel - he half-heartedly took up the side task of hunting and eating Castiel even as he was sent to take out others who were providing a fuss, such as the hunter Frank. Alas, he never met up with his goal, and tended to be elsewhere when the real action was happening. It did, however, save him from being one of those sucked to Purgatory by the death of Roman; he was far out of range and was one of the few to be left wandering the world. When he heard of Roman’s death, he hadn’t been so happy since he first discovered the nature of Purgatory. he went up in Alaska for a while, killing hunters and those who strayed off the trail, before picking up on the news of the “hot spot”, as the contacts who brought it to his attention called it. It was at that point that he decided to head to Fremont, the hotspot that had been called by his contacts “the big one” (at least, before he cleaned up loose ends and ate the said contacts…) Family If you’re Leviathan, you’re his brother (or sister?). Other -This character will be mostly killing NPC’s, but if you want to meet up with him in the course of roleplay to have the experience of fighting (and quite possibly dying to) a Leviathan, feel free. -If characters step way too out of line power wise or blatantly kill other player’s characters without any sort of advance warning or discussion, they might wake up (or turn around) to find a less than attractive mouth coming at them… -All normal ways to disable a Leviathan apply, and are a little more effective than on others if anything. At this point, nobody can make him “bib” because nobody has the authority. -The one known way to kill one isn’t something that’s going to happen in 5 posts. You can do it, just go with a little advance warning and make the path to death “logical” (as the supernatural universe can be). -To anyone who doesn’t know what he is, he is a monster (if they identify him as the killer). Keep in mind he can shapeshift to the form of those he touches, so one can lose the path without much difficulty (although I won’t make it stupidly impossible to track him, as that would just be boring roleplay). -his body looks like that of one of his particular favorite victims... -Yes, he can eat an Archangel. The above applies, though, and no Archangel will be eaten unless the GM steps in as God and destines my guy to mysteriously locate them to serve as a first course meal. Kaephypton Angelic Agent ---------------------------------------------- ”Without discipline, even the Angels can fall. Castiel taught us that.” ---------------------------------------------- (as of current host) Basics Height: 5’3 Age: Immortal (Among the first beings created by god, although younger than all Archangels) Gender: Identifies as male via his host. Body Type: Relatively fit, nothing special in that regard. Extended Personality The classic agent of heaven. He doesn’t understand just about any human convention to ever be created, having spent his time in heaven as more of a “poster child” and someone on hold, usually sent to 1v1 demons. He’s scornful of anyone who doesn’t uphold the highest of angelic ideals and feels dirty after a while of interacting with humans. He stands out like a sore thumb and tends to only identify demons and pursue them, or identify a tablet if he ever comes across one. His discipline is known across heaven, and to demons as well. Backstory <insert generic Angel life story here> The only thing to his existence that makes him stand out is his practice killing demons that heaven sends him to take out. He was sent to the mortal realm to find tablets by his superior, Talthael, who serves a small network of angels following the split in the Host’s leadership across various factions. He is, as of now, deemed “incorruptible” - the whole reason why he was sent in the first place. His life story was rather generic simply because he did everything he was supposed to, and not much more. The one thing in particular that is a soer subject is Michael, who he had looked up to as an idol until he vanished from Heaven. He holds a grudge gainst the winchesters and anyone who had connections with them, hear and far, fro their purpose in his fall. Family The angels. Other -He’s a practiced Demon killer. Anyone playing a demon must be extra careful to not bump into him, as he can identify demons very quickly (and demons are ultimately low on the scale compared to an angel). -He might be a comic relief character simply due to his complete old fashioned nature (the last time he interacted with humans was in the 1300’s, and still holds a “duel” mindset when it comes to solving disputes) and complete uselessness with modern technology. Anyone who introduces him to a computer better make a good impression, otherwise he might consider it a demon and hunt those too. -He’s not very friendly and especially nasty towards characters he feels are particularly sinful, and he has a good idea on the ones that genuinely are. -His angelic blade is specially designed to look like the kind used in the 1300’s. Characters should try not to laugh if he challenges them to a duel. -He has acquired his host by answering the prayer of a human businessman in his dreams. Nick Schaeffer Hunter ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ”I’m getting a little tired of being head-butted by overly horny ghosts that decided it was a good idea to bury their bones in a sealed coffin of concrete.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ <Insert Applicable Image Here> Basics Height: 5’4 Age: 53 Gender: Male Body Type: Well kept up, yet feeling the years. Extended Personality His days in hunting have allowed him to meet a large variety of people and a possibly larger variety of ghosts, vampires, skinwalkers… you name it. He doesn’t get surprised by much and counts himself lucky for having lived as long as he has - about three friends of his remain that he had met in his early years. Many hunters would have died by now. He is somewhat paranoid and always checks his guests, but once they are confirmed and if they are friends, he has a softer, more fatherly side. Sometimes he ends up rambling, which tends to only stop when the other person brings him back on topic. He firmly considers the idea of “an innocent monster” a load of bullshit and says that even if one committed a good deed, they would have a considerably longer rap sheet of dark deeds to account for. He’s a good hunter with considerable knowledge, but isn’t close to being the fastest anymore and will likely find his end in not too long. Backstory Born into a hunting family, Shaeffer grew up in a paranoid household that only trusted those who had just been tested and were known as family friends. Everyone else could be taken as an enemy. Schaeffer started hunting with his father when he was only 16, learning the ropes and doing quite a bit of reading in the family library. When his father died, he managed to hunt down the werewolf who had killed him… but the events surrounding that showdown are unclear. Some say that the werewolf is still alive… After that, Schaeffer took a much more active role in hunting, forming a small group of associates, in which he tended to be the “lookup” guy (the one to read the books and figure out how to take <x> creature down). The group evolved into a small network, in which he met various hunters, such as Otis Yates. The original team had all died before Shaeffer was 45 years old. He now takes an interest in Fermont, as from what he had read out of his library… the tablets were a quite big dea, although rather vaguely described.. His goal is to retrieve them and then find a Prophet to translate them in order to “win” the previously thought unbeatable war against monsters. Family His father, Hendrick Schaeffer, died when his son was 20. He never knew his mother, Melissa Schaeffer. Other than that, he was an only child and didn’t have very much family. He did have an uncle, George Burnett, who was also a hunter until he died at 46 chasing down a Wraith. Other -He's not too strong in melee at this point, but knows quite a bit. -He won't be recalling word-for-word as he can't exactly load up a library into his ford and bring all thousand or so books along. Or at least, he's too lazy. -He's older than most hunters live to see. Basically, he's testing fate by living this long. -Interacting characters who he doesn't know to be a monster right off the bat will be subject to the "silver knife" and "holy water" tests. He carries both around. Naturally, he's reasonable about it... not going to go too well to test everyone in a hotel, but if you want to get in the room, he's going to damn well test you. Talthael Seraphim Angelic Faction Leader ---------------------------------------------- ”Heaven is in a state of war, and it needs a guiding hand if it’s ever going to go somewhere. Me, I wouldn’t mind being that hand.” ---------------------------------------------- Basics Height: 5’6 Age: Immortal (angelic) Gender: Genderless as he appears in his true form to all angels. Body Type: Extended Personality Slimy at best, a deceiver at worst, he likes to think he’s in charge - but in fact, his faction hasn’t been doing well lately, losing ground to Naomi and other influential leaders; being reduced to few angels remaining in his ranks. He tends to make things look like they are considerably better than they actually are. He thinks that the tablets will give him the ultimate upper hand in the battle for leadership. Backstory A senior angel just below the rank of Archangel, he has been an influential member of Heaven for many millennia - although he has lagged behind others, preferring to work in the background instead of being on the front line of affairs. His primary authority came in the form of Michael’s support and approval. As such, Talthael was almost entirely dependent on him, and lost ground in the mad rush for power in Heaven to Naomi and others, losing support of all Saraphim that had once been under his command. He now holds a legacy of being Michael’s pawn, five odd angels (albeit, one of them is actually fairly powerful when it comes to the run-of-the-mill angel), and a few loose artifacts that he picked up. It is now the main reason as to why he wants the Angel tablet - if he can get his hand on the most relevant tablet to heaven, his status will be boosted considerably. Family The Angels Other -He is the superior of Kaephypton. -His interactions will mostly be in heaven; there is a low chance of him doing things for himself. -He might send someone else in the form of a minor character to assist the cause. -He’s always been a slimy character, being distinctly independent from the archangels while appeasing them when possible. He’s not very popular with them as a result. -In terms of angelic faction leaders, he’s rather low on the scale. That said, he is a potent angel in his own right. This will consist of NPC's that are used to make particular interactions function that can be taken over by other players, killed, etc as they wish, and ones that I won't bother with a full CS because they were made for something specific (ie, a ghost created to give hunters a little something to do) that other players can't control. NPC's will be marked as such IC if I use them, so ya know what you can godmod. None at the moment.

Ian regarda tranquillement tout en se reposant une main sur la tête de Mayla. Chercher quelqu'un d'autre qui pourrait être un meilleur choix pour prendre le chiot qui était devant lui. Ce n'est qu'en retournant son attention sur elle qu'elle laissa un pleurnicheur mêlé à la légère irritation que le garçon tardait à décider de ce qu'il allait faire. Ce que Ian ne savait pas, c'était qu'il était trop tard pour qu'il change d'avis. Même s'il se levait pour s'en aller, Mayla était morte en train de le suivre où qu'il aille pour qu'elle ait un abri pour la nuit. Juste pour qu'elle sache ce qu'elle devrait faire ensuite. Ian soupirait : "Viens ici." Se tenant debout tout en se penchant pour ramasser Mayla pour qu'elle n'ait pas à marcher sur ses pattes déjà congelées. Quand elle était dans ses bras, il grogne tout en se déplaçant autour du poids inattendu qui était maintenant dans ses bras. "Bonne merde!" Mayla n'y a pas réagi autrement qu'en scrutant l'épaule d'Ian, en lui mettant tout son poids mort pour lui dire qu'elle n'était pas aussi lourde qu'elle pouvait l'être. Faire le garçon se battre pour la garder dans ses bras et de glisser sur la boue pendant qu'il continuait dans la rue. N'ayant plus l'idée d'aller au restaurant, ce soir, il allait au magasin pour ramasser quelques trucs pour que le chiot puisse manger quelque chose.

IAN COSDEN HUNTER "Small tricks won't work on me... Sweetheart" "Dude!?! Really!?! Loosen up a little!!" Full name: Ian Cosden Alias: Jackson Wright Height: 5'11" Body type: Thin yet muscular Age: Just barely 22 Gender: Male MAYLA BETHELL SKINWALKER "Have you seen the world through the eyes of a dog??... No!! Then don't assume you know anything." Skinwalker form: Full name: Mayla Bethell Nickname: May Heigth: 4'11" Body type: Thin and a little lanky Age: 10 Gender: Female

Micheal était aussi curieux qu'un chat en ce moment. Avec 3 démons, un Léviathan, et un homme mort dans la résidence, la nuit s'amusait et il n'avait même pas encore tué. Micheal était sûr que ce qu'il cherchait était dans cette ville, ce serait ridicule si ce n'était pas le cas. Il n'avait qu'à le trouver et s'amuser en chemin. "Comment vont les terrains de chasse dans cette ville." Micheal a demandé pendant qu'il mangeait sa nourriture. ____________________________________________________________________________ Tom a regardé attentivement les deux interagir, il ne lui a pas fait confiance. Lui et Micheal avaient eu des rancards avec des démons dans le passé et ils n'ont jamais bien fini. Le Taco Bell y avait trois démons, vieux comme le Léviathan, et qui sait quoi d'autre qu'il n'avait pas remarqué. Tom voulait partir maintenant, mais sachant Micheal, ils devaient avoir des ennuis avant de partir.

Micheal Von Jence CHARACTER FULL NAME: Micheal Von Jence AGE, SPECIES: 459 years old, Fairy (Wicked Witch) NICK NAME OR ALIAS: MJ (The Witch Doctor) HEIGHT: 5'10 BODY TYPE: Toned, Slim AGE: Looks about 18 GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: Micheal is a meticulous intellectual, the "scientist" of the fairy community. He is highly narcissistic and extremely flamboyant, tending to make lewd, disturbing comments about people he doesn't like. Micheal is quite sadistic, viewing others as little more than research material. He thinks poorly of humans, hoping someone will someday wipe them all out of existence. He thinks of himself as an actor, treating his battles like theatrical performances, especially when toying with his victims. FRIENDS AND FAMILY: N/A PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: Jon(Younger Brother), Anna(Older Sister) EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: Another Witch (good) named Alice, the only other one he can tolerate. HISTORY: Micheal was born at the start of the slave trade in the 16th century. He grew up in luxury and endless help. Everyone in his family are witches and he was no exception. As a child he would bully human children with his gifts and play endless tricks on his siblings. When he got older he learned to harness his gifts and became a fully fledged witch. He decided to live the life of a scientist and experiment on what ever he can. This is were his dark nature grew from. The only one who has ever seen the "good" side of him is his friend Alice. In his 300s he tamed an Arachne named Tod and they have been companions ever since. EXTRA INFORMATION: His 100 year old pet snake. Tom James CHARACTER FULL NAME: Tom James AGE, SPECIES: 200 years old, Arachne NICK NAME OR ALIAS: Tommy (The Golden One) HEIGHT: 6'2 BODY TYPE: Muscular, Toned, Rugged AGE: Looks about early 30s GENDER: Male PERSONALITY: Tom is an honest man. He has never been one to shy from the truth, and is always FRIENDS AND FAMILY: Micheal (his owner) PARENTS: N/A SIBLINGS: N/A EXTENDED FAMILY: N/A IMPORTANT OTHERS: His maker Jeana. HISTORY: Tom was turned when he was 30. He was at his birthday party and Jeana turned him as a "gift". He has been miserable ever since. Having to fed on humanity on a weekly basis and not having any support. At one point he even tired to become a wanderer. Going from place to place. Trying not to feed but failing miserably. He never truly let go of his human nature until he went south. Down in the south he met Micheal. At first he dismissed him as some rude punk but he never wold have thought he was a 200 year old fairy. He began to hang around Micheal even more and earned the name pest. Then one day he saved his life and Micheal rewarded him by buying him. He told Tom that in exchange for his life he would make sure he could be himself and never be lonely, and they have been together ever since. EXTRA INFORMATION: His makers spider type was, Black Widow, so he inherited the Gold Orb Weaver Genes. His maker Jeana. She can also be used an NPC.

C'est ainsi que nous commençons Le Couvent des Sœurs de Lumière plaide pour l'aide des gens du royaume. Notre orphelinat a été ravagé par un cas unique de maladie du cidre que toutes les tentatives de guérison ont échoué. Nous avons consulté à la fois de près et de loin et croyons que nous savons maintenant comment guérir nos enfants pauvres, mais nous manquons de la force nécessaire pour recueillir les ingrédients dont nous avons tant besoin. Nous cherchons des personnes fortes et bienveillantes pour aider à sauver la vie de ces âmes innocentes. Pour plus d'informations, veuillez contacter Sœur Agnes dans le village de Gorlton. Nous promettons une grande récompense en échange des matériaux dont nous avons besoin. Les messagers avaient reçu l'ordre de placer ces avis à la fois près et loin dans tout le royaume dans l'espoir qu'au moins certains viendraient. Les messagers étaient partis plusieurs jours auparavant et tous étaient revenus et avaient informé le couvent qu'ils avaient achevé la tâche à accomplir. Sœur Agnès, une vieille religieuse dévouée qui était membre du Couvent des Sœurs de la Lumière, a pataugé le magasin d'apothécaire, tournant lentement ses doigts le long des plis de son habitude. Les enfants de l'orphelinat qu'ils s'occupaient étaient malades et il n'y avait rien qui semblait aider. La maladie du cidre était généralement une maladie, bien que douloureuse, pouvait être guérie par une simple guérison d'un prêtre ou d'une prêtresse, mais cette épidémie était différente. Ils avaient pu le ralentir mais ne pas le guérir et les enfants souffraient. La maladie a commencé comme rien de plus qu'une forte fièvre, mais elle a rapidement progressé vers de minuscules cylindres et des étincelles provenant des yeux et de la bouche des enfants. Certains des enfants qui l'avaient eu plus longtemps avaient progressé vers de petites lésions sur leur peau qui auraient des flammes venant d'eux. Ils en avaient même perdu un qui avait été complètement englouti dans les flammes à mesure que la maladie atteignait son état le plus dangereux. Soeur Agnès se demandait combien d'autres perdraient et elle pesait lourdement sur son cœur. Les sœurs avaient pu localiser la cause de la maladie, un culte qui avait convoqué un démon non loin de l'orphelinat avait causé la rupture initiale et grâce à un ordre religieux local avait été pris en charge mais un remède n'avait pas encore été trouvé. Leur seul espoir était dans un vieux manuscrit que l'ancien Apothecary avait parlé d'une épidémie similaire qui s'était produite au siècle précédent, mais les ingrédients d'un tel remède étaient rares, si rares et ils n'étaient pas quelque chose qui serait facile à trouver. Leur seul espoir était qu'un groupe d'aventuriers serait prêt à assumer cette tâche. Les religieuses du couvent étaient habiles dans beaucoup de choses, la lutte contre le désert n'était pas l'une d'entre elles. Sister Agnes a demandé alors qu'elle regardait par la fenêtre de l'ancien magasin et qu'elle regardait par-dessus la ville. L'heure était en avance, le soleil se brisait au-dessus de l'horizon lentement. Le village était calme; quelques-uns seulement se levaient et se déplaçaient, en commençant leurs tâches quotidiennes. Au-delà du village se trouvaient des champs et des arbres qui formaient le bord d'une vaste forêt qui entourait le village et les célèbres champs. On pouvait voir les montagnes au loin et, si souvent, à des kilomètres de là, l'odeur du sel se déversait dans le village dans les premières heures du matin de la Cove. Donnez-lui le temps Soeur, l'apothécaire a dit comme il a levé les yeux du manuscrit qui tenait les ingrédients qui devraient être recueillis. Il avait passé la nuit à écrire la liste encore et encore sur des morceaux de parchemin pour distribuer à ceux qui sont venus vouloir essayer d'aider. Soupirant légèrement en regardant la liste, ces choses n'étaient pas faciles à trouver et ils auraient besoin d'un groupe complet pour passer à travers cela qui pourrait fonctionner bien ensemble. Certaines parties aventureuses ont mis des années à se faire confiance et à bien travailler ensemble. Trouver de tels groupes était aussi rare que les ingrédients eux-mêmes. Il a juste espéré que qui jamais est venu par la porte et a fait sonner la petite cloche d'airain au-dessus de lui comme ils sont entrés serait à la hauteur de la tâche. Le temps est quelque chose dont nous n'avons pas grand-chose,,, elle a dit comme elle était là attendant, regardant en arrière par la fenêtre vitrée de la boutique avant de se détourner et errant sans but à travers la pièce. Sana Rawn Le soleil venait de commencer à se lever et le ciel était encore un bleu frais alors que les premiers rayons traversaient la fenêtre de la chambre louée de l'auberge du village. Un son irrité échappa aux lèvres de Sanas alors que la lumière venait dans la pièce, tournant la tête qu'elle enterrait contre une poitrine assez grande et définie en tirant les couvertures sur sa tête; une habitude qu'elle avait formée au cours des derniers mois de voyage à tout moment le soleil interrompit son sommeil. "Fais-le partir," elle grondait alors qu'elle s'approchait de la grande figure qui était probablement déjà éveillée couchée à côté d'elle. Le couple était arrivé la nuit avant assez tard et le village était complètement enfermé sauf pour l'auberge heureusement; Sana avait pris soin des chevaux comme Hugh sécurait une chambre pour eux pour la soirée. Ils avaient pris l'avis d'une ville après des mois de voyage essayant d'échapper à un désert et quelques créations plutôt peu savores; ensemble, ils ont décidé qu'ils vérifieraient ce qui se passait et offriraient un coup de main. Ce serait bien d'essayer d'aider certains enfants au lieu d'un mégalomane dans une région qui ne pouvait être décrite que comme un enfer. Maintenant, il y avait quelque part luxuriant et c'était un changement de bienvenue à Sana; bien qu'elle jure toujours qu'elle va cueillir du sable hors de la meute pour le reste de sa vie. Au moment où ils sont arrivés à la chambre Sana avait à peine réussi à se déshabiller de son équipement de voyage avant de passer au pied du lit. Elle ne savait pas comment elle avait réussi à finir par utiliser Hugh comme oreiller, mais elle pensait qu'il l'avait déplacée pendant qu'elle dormait. Maintenant, le soleil dérangeait ce sommeil et elle était loin d'en être heureuse. Elle savait qu'ils avaient besoin de se lever, de manger et de se rendre à l'Apothicaire, mais elle n'avait même pas encore entendu un corbeau de coq, donc elle pensait qu'elle avait encore du temps. "Cock-A-Doodle-Wake-Yo-Butt-Up" un coq a croisé de l'extérieur de la fenêtre. Fils d'un... Sana s'est évanouie alors qu'elle tirait les couvertures plus serrées sur sa tête.

Name: Hanzo Jibero Age: 26 Alignment: Lawful Neutral Race: Human Class: Monk Appearance/Clothing: Skills: Acrobatics Survival Historical & Religious Knowledge Climbing & Swimming Perception Emotion Reading Ki Manipulation Martial Arts, Grappling, & Throwing Natural Abilities: Has honed his body to its upper limits in durability and reflexes, and learned to how manipulate his Ki (spiritual energy); otherwise, he possesses no special abilities of note for a human. Magic/Spells: Ki Strike - A focused attack bolstered through Ki. Grants a chance for normal damage to penetrate armor and natural resistances. Can be charged for a slightly greater chance. Ki Blast - Hanzo channels Ki into his hands to throw out a bolt of raw energy that travels a short distance. Functions as a basic magical attack with a chance to penetrate physical armor (akin to Ki Strike), but must be charged to yield the proper effect initially. Ki Mending - A monk's own 'lay on hands' technique using Ki. Restores a bit of health and fights magical impurities. Additional Information: This monk hails from an old culture that bears worship to the spirit of nature, rather than any specific god. They bless the sun and the moon for giving them light, and the earth and its bounty for giving them life. A somewhat nomadic culture, these monks rarely established buildings or relics for anything beyond shelter, aiming to preserve nature as best as they could. This culture took up martial arts and the art of Ki manipulation as a means of defensing oneself without resorting to weapons or lethality, and to hone one's body and spirit to its greatest potential. Life was simple and peaceful, yet active and fulfilling. They took what they needed from nature and kindly returned what they did not, blessing all creatures that lost their lives as fulfilling a greater purpose. For Hanzo, this has since changed somewhat. Where he once could've wandered without ever getting lost, he now struggles to find a purpose in this new reality revealed to him. He has long since gotten over the culture shock of the developing world, however, and still finds himself traveling about, benefiting others where he sees fit. The wonder still remains, however, and the monk can't help but wish for a sign to reveal his own destiny. Equipment: Hanzo possesses no weapons besides his fists, but does wear a small medium of protective gear: leather bracers on his forearms and legs, and a belt with magical properties that reinforces his natural durability. Possessions: Something of a miser, Hanzo carries little gear or money on his person. He is always seens with his monk's clothing (see above), as well as a waterskin, a crest of his clan, and a ring of prayer beads. Should the need arise, the sash he wears can be improvised as a ten-foot rope. Personality: By nature, Hanzo is a respectful individual, treating others with kindness when he can see they deserve it. Through his experiences, however, the monk has learned to only really trust those he has discovered as righteous at heart, even if not always purely good. As such, he comes and goes in his travels, not often staying to maintain friendships but still holding them at heart. Getting to know Hanzo and sympathize with him can turn the monk into a faithful ally, even beyond an initial partnership. As a result of his less fortunate experiences, Hanzo bears a stern sense of justice, and is quite willing to help others in desperate need (for better or worse, at times). He tends to be straightforward, but also cautious and logical - not below fighting others to reach a solution, but wise enough to seek an alternate method. As a part of his vowing of respect as a monk, Hanzo will never willingly kill a fellow human/elf/etc, but when pitted against the 'inhumane' (monstrous creatures and truly sinful individuals) he will not share that grace. History: Hanzo was born naturally within a nomadic tribe of monks. As a youth, he was eager to learn their ways and trained hard to better himself. He found himself fitting in well with the culture, benefiting greatly from its teachings and giving him a fairly fulfilling life, at the time. Of course, some things have a tendency to change so very suddenly. As Hanzo's generation was beginning to reach their coming of adulthood, one girl was suddenly outcast from the monks in what had to be a first in their history. She had always been something of a quiet loner, but what put her off the edge was her possession and obsession with a unique steel knife abandoned in the forest. Though Hanzo was somewhat regretful of her suffering this fate, as he was one of the few people to show her kindness, he was ultimately made to pay it no mind. Disaster struck, however, when but a few moons later, the girl returned in the accompany of a legion of violent warriors. She had discovered that the knife was of their craft, and immediately became absorbed into their vastly differing knowledge. When she weaved a tale of being isolated and betrayed by her primitive family and clan, the battle-bred warriors were empowered to aid her in revenge. So began the crusade against Hanzo's clan, a long night of fire beneath a bloody moon. As fear and panic settled in, a still-young Hanzo was desperately urged to flee, even as family and friends alike were quickly slaughtered under the warriors' powerful weapons. Under the shadow of the forest, Hanzo managed to evade the clan's new enemies, and believed himself to be a solitary survivor. But while the fires still remained in sight, Hanzo was suddenly confronted by the girl, bloody knife in hand. Though she had initially spared Hanzo for the kinship he had offered, the murderer claimed to have dicovered a new way of life, driven by a far more powerful emotion: wrath. Seeing the monk feel his own brand of wrath, she offered him another chance, to channel and release this rage the only way she knew how. Hanzo refused, deciding she had more than lost her mind, and attempted to fight her in his anger. Their tango was brief but brutal, put to a painful end when the murderer was knocked headfirst into a collapse of burning branches, blinding her. He only regrets not having learned her name. The time following was harsh to Hanzo, not because he could not survive but because he had nobody else to survive with. He was alone, his family, friends, and culture all mercilessly slaughtered. Hanzo's outlook changed - it had to, if he was going to truly live any longer. The monk began to wander the world again, a world that seemed to so vastly change overnight, as he passed through many towns, kingdoms, and nations. He would help others as he deemed without compensation, all the while hoping to find some new sense of purpose as she had.

Fiona Fiona aimait beaucoup voyager le matin, tandis que l'air était frais et le désert commençait à peine à se réveiller pour la journée. Les villes et les villages étaient encore endormis, les gens n'ayant pas encore levé de leur lit dans les conduits pour inonder les rues de bruit et d'activité. Elle a toujours voulu voir le monde, mais a appris assez vite qu'elle n'était pas une citadine à cœur, préférant beaucoup la paix des petits villages, et la route ouverte. Bien sûr, elle avait un compagnon à l'heure actuelle, un homme qui dérangeait assez souvent cette tranquillité. Tobias était assez bavard, un homme qui se croyait un peu plus charmant et beau qu'il ne l'était en fait, bien que Fiona ait dû admettre qu'il avait eu ses moments. Alors qu'elle était un peu négativement inclinée vers lui en raison de ses qualités moins que honnêtes, la paire avait construit une petite amitié plutôt étrange, construite à partir de leur entraide l'un de l'autre il y a environ une semaine. Fiona avait rencontré Tobias étant transporté le long de la route par un trio de voyous, travaillant pour un patron local connu sous le nom de Green-Grin Greg. Ne laissant pas les bandits traîner librement les gens autour, Fiona les confronta, et les mit en valeur dans un combat rapide, libérant Tobias. Après avoir appris un peu la région de lui, Fiona a fait assez hardiment des plans pour traiter avec le criminel local, croyant qu'il était affaibli après avoir perdu certains de ses hommes. Sa bravoure, comme elle l'apprenait, avait tendance à s'aventurer dans la folie, et elle a découvert assez rapidement qu'elle n'était pas un match pour le leader du banditisme. Battue sainement dans un combat à peine équitable, Fiona a été fait prisonnier, seulement capable de s'échapper à travers un mensonge habile filé par la langue d'argent de Tobias. Ils étaient une paire étrange, très différente de la mentalité mais des amis ténus tout de même, et Fiona avait convaincu Tobias de venir avec elle et de l'aider avec ce contrat qu'elle avait été à l'origine sur son chemin pour compléter. Il semblait compatissant au sort des orphelins, et la récompense l'enchaînait aussi, elle le savait. "Ce devrait être le village," a-t-elle remarqué, pointant vers l'avant. "L'apothécaire de Gorlton. Je me demande qui d'autre nous rencontrerons." Pour autant qu'elle le sache, l'avis avait été envoyé loin et large, et attirerait probablement d'autres aventuriers intéressants. Fiona était impatiente de les rencontrer, et d'apprendre une chose ou deux.

Name: Fiona Age: 22 Alignment: Neutral Good Race: Human Class: Fighter Appearance/Clothing: Reference 1, Reference 2. Fairly average height, with a lean and toned build. Fiery, wild red hair and light brown eyes, skin tone a fair, slightly pale coloration. Skills: Close combat fighting, speed and agility, moderate strength, excellent horseback riding skills. Proficient both armed and unarmed, moderate endurance for taking hits. Good at cooking with relatively little to work with, and while likely irrelevant, good at farming. Natural Abilities: None - Human Magic/Spells: None Armor: Roughly as seen in the image, some pieces of scavenged light plate, most effectively protecting her right arm. Weapons: Use reference 2 for example. A fairly standard curved longsword, lightweight but sturdy. She has a dagger sheathed on her left thigh for emergencies. Possessions: Little of note. Her clothes, weapons, armor, packs, supplies, basic medical items and personal belongings. Most of it kept in her horse's saddlebags. Personality: Fiona's bold and brash, often unafraid of things she probably should be, and in general a very confident and self-assured individual. Like any good adventurer she is both curious and brave, but also deeply selfless, not preferring to use the word 'mercenary' to describe herself, as this implies the coin is the end goal she works for. Mostly she just enjoys her life for what it is: a chance to explore, meet new people and see new things, and help wherever she can, with what skill she has. Though typically a loner, she doesn't turn down help when offered, and tries to work together with others as best she can. She's an inexperienced, terrible liar, preferring both her combat and her conversation upfront and uncomplicated. History: Fiona's story is a relatively simple one, starting with a family not important enough to even have a lasting name. She's simply Fiona, of the village of Drayden, a little farming community quite a ways from many large population centers. Fiona was an only child, and thus assisted a great deal around the farm, becoming strong and physically active as a result. Wandering adventurers inspired her even as a teenage girl, and her mind would not be swayed from eventually leaving the family farm to see the world. When they were eventually able to hire some help, she used what coin she had to purchase some basic equipment, and set out at age 19, blade in hand, hunting for contracts. Naturally, without the best of training or a good starting foundation of equipment and knowledge, Fiona struggled in her first few years, but learned from her mistakes, and has developed into a competent and even confident fighter, willing and able to take on problems the average person doesn't want to deal with.

Hugh s'est réveillé par un faisceau de lumière se laissant entrer dans la pièce et une plus petite figure encadrée se recroquevillant à côté de lui. Il s'est détendu alors que cette personne se blottit près de lui, enterreant sa tête dans sa poitrine et se plaignant de l'arrivée du matin. Il a bien compris, mais si ce n'était pas pour qu'elle soit là au lit avec lui, il pourrait se lever et se promener. Il était très éveillé, car il avait eu un très bon sommeil la nuit précédente, et il s'était habitué à avoir le cadre de Sana Rawn contre lui chaque fois qu'il dormait. Il a roulé son cadre, faisant face à Sana, et la laissant enterrer sa tête dans sa poitrine. Il enveloppa ses bras autour d'elle, et laissa son menton reposer sur le dessus de sa tête, fermant les yeux, et prenant un souffle lent entre et dehors. Il a apporté une main vers le haut de ses cheveux en train de le gâcher un peu, pas que c'était dans un style particulier à l'heure actuelle. Ils dormaient, après tout. Hugh attendait avec impatience un petit déjeuner. Peut-être des œufs de poulet frits avec du pain et du fromage. Bien sûr, c'était le repas qu'il avait fait régulièrement pendant que les deux étaient sur le sentier, mais pas les œufs de poulet, loin de ce trou d'enfer dans le sud. Ils avaient besoin de s'éloigner des gens qu'ils ne pouvaient plus supporter la présence et une guerre qui n'avait aucun but. Peut-être que l'auberge faisait le petit déjeuner comme ils étaient là, si c'était quelque chose pour cette ville. Après tout, ce serait merveilleux. Le petit-déjeuner au lit serait peut-être mieux, mais Hugh n'aimait pas particulièrement l'idée que quelqu'un vienne dans la chambre et le dérange avec Sana. Cela irait sans dire, comme il se sentirait très contrarié par quelqu'un ennuyant leur intimité. Oreillers et tout objet lourd à portée de main trouveraient sûrement son chemin vers n'importe quel intrus, quel que soit le chemin qu'ils ont pris pour entrer. Pour l'instant, Hugh profitait de ce moment. Il lui sourit à quel point elle était ennuyée par la lumière, mais il n'en avait pas moins été perturbé quand il s'était réveillé. Maintenant, il avait l'impression de la protéger. "Mmmmm, bonjour soleil." Il s'est bagarré peu après ses paroles. Il n'était pas une personne du matin, mais aujourd'hui il avait été le premier à se réveiller entre les deux.

Name: Hugh Van Halder Age: 45 Alignment: Neutral Good Race: Human Class: Fighter, Ex-Paladin Appearance/Clohing: He stands at 6'2", a tower of years of built up muscle. He wears a dark earthen blue tunic over a white linen three button pullover shirt. He wears a pair of black shorts(under his pants) and a pair of dark gray hosen(medieval style pants). He'll wear a chain mail shirt and these pauldrons additionally he'll wear leather knee and shin armor. He wears a small gray hood and a bear fur cloak. Skills: He is a good brawler and can fight with anything he can get his hands on(He's used bed rolls before). Horseback riding. Swordfighting, throwing axes, and two handed weapon fighting. He's been able to use crossbows before, but despises them, as they are delicate and take a lot of work just to reload. Bushcraft and survival stuff. Smoking(if that qualifies as a skill). Some cooking. Natural Abilities: He's strong and durable and can take a lot of beatings. He's pretty much a tank. He can drink a lot of alcohol and only get buzzed. Otherwise, he's just a normal human. Magic Spells: N/A Additional Information: He is in a relationship with Sana Rawn. He has a draft horse, named Rodger. Weapons: He wields a large crude looking battle axe and a falchion. Additionally, he has one small crude throwing axe. Possessions: A rucksack with jerky, bread, cheese, rags, spark rocks(basically one is made of magnesium), rope, ladle, cooking knife, two plates, and tobacco. He also has saddle bags on his horse, which he stores his pipe, more tobacco, sugar cubes, a brush, a stick and bow(which he uses for lighting his pipe), and a few salt licks. He has two water skins. One he keeps on his horse, and one on his person or in rucksack. Additionally he has a pot and a frying pan strapped down to the outside of his rucksack. He also wears a ring on a little chain around his neck and he never seems to take it off, as it was given to him by Sana. Personality: He is a more contented man, liking simple things in life, especially enjoying smoking his pipe with a wonderful scenery, usually in the form of a beautiful day and his love, Sana. He has a more realistic attitude towards the world, not being an idealist, only doing things to help. He has great respect for the natural order of things, and you won't find him trying to seek out revenge. He still has a fiery temper when it is stoked enough to come out. History: Hugh was once part of a great order of paladins. They had much land and ruled with wisdom. Their lands were prosperous and fertile. Many were jealous of their lands, but no one had the courage enough to take on the great and Noble order. Their paladins were fierce and formidable fighters. They all stood higher than 6' and were towers of muscle. They were truly terrifying men. But they were brought down under scandal. Fabricated accusations about them stealing their riches and enslaving other groups of people for labor. The scandals kept growing until they were set upon by every surrounding nation. They stood no chance. Many were killed, only a few escaped. They have been long since forgotten, after being hunted for almost two decades, and killed off, until it was concluded that they were finally extinct. Hugh hid among tribes of barbarians to survive. The tribe was good to him, making him one of their own. He had built a life of simplicity. Some warring between other tribes would often end with them being brutalized and then integrated. Hugh had found love in a woman taken from one of the defeated tribes. He had a few sons and lived very happily with her, until they were set upon by a purge of the "savages". Hugh's tribe was wiped out and he was orphaned once again. He had brutally killed all the "civilized" army he could, but it was too late. His tribe was all gone, along with his family. He became a wanderer, and left to find life as a mercenary. In that life, he found an adventure awaiting him in a tavern. The tavern was filled with life, when he came in and joined up with a questing group. There he met a gypsy woman by the name of Sana. He got to know her going on this random little adventure with this party. It was all rather simple and jovial at first, until they were all taken captive by a lich. This lich tried to take Sana from them, and in that moment Hugh only felt desperation and rage. He had slowly begun to realize that he had fallen in love with Sana, and that if he lost her nothing would change about his existence as a wandering mercenary, and he would simply keep losing people he deeply cared about. So he took a chance at love, and broke out of his cage in a fit of rage. He fought like a lion to get to Sana, finally winning out(love triumphs over all!) against the hordes of undead after his party came to his aid. Since then, he's been a contented old soul, taking care of Sana and showing her his love for her, even though he has never said the words.

Tobias s'est approché de son compagnon pour observer le village devant eux, un bâilleur s'échappant de sa bouche. Beaucoup de choses l'ont perplexe à propos de Fiona - sa confiance aveugle, sa folie, son étrange sens de l'impératif moral, comment ses cheveux semblaient toujours être beaux même si elle fouillait dans les bois ou les bandits de lutte contre l'épée - mais son penchant pour voyager le matin était une chose qu'il pensait ne jamais comprendre. À vrai dire, il ne pouvait pas mettre un doigt sur la raison pour laquelle il avait même suivi la fille à cet endroit. Ce n'était pas comme s'il lui devait quoi que ce soit - elle lui avait sauvé la vie, il lui avait sauvé la sienne. C'est carré. Cela aurait été la fin, si ce n'était pas pour tous les damnés sentiments de "conscience" qui venaient de la pensée d'orphelins malades et de son "ami" sur elle-même. Les sentiments rendaient toujours sa vie difficile. Le voleur enquêta brièvement sur le village avant lui avant de se hurler brusquement. "Je n'y crois pas. Trop calme et agréable à regarder. Des cultes démoniaques, certainement des cultes démoniaques. La plupart des gens font probablement partie d'un démon. Surtout ceux qui sont polis, ils sont démoniaques. Je parie qu'ils ont aussi le crime organisé. Tu pourrais faire une guerre de gang dans un champ de maïs. Je l'ai vu arriver." Le voleur s'est enfui pour ramasser ses sacs. "De plus, je pense toujours que ce "travail" est un piège et nous allons tous les deux mourir. Juste pour qu'on soit clair là-dessus. C'est toujours là que je suis." Avec ses possessions, le voyou partit vers le village, souriant largement. "Ton tour sur le cheval, Ange de la guerre. Allons-y."

Name: Tobias Age: 22 Alignment: Chaotic Good-ish Race: Human Class: Thief Appearance/Clothing: Skills: Bluff, Acrobatics, Charm, Athletics, Sneak, Theft, Streetwise, Knife-Wielding, Knife-Throwing. Natural Abilities: The power of average-ness. Magic/Spells: Not a scrap of it. Additional Information: Tobias isn't the strongest fighter, being far more suited to running, hiding, or bluffing his way out of situations (he's capable by normal person standards, of course - just not really what you'd expect from an adventurer). He's also a massive pathological liar with trust issues a mile wide. Weapons: He has three knives - one on his belt, one on his back, and one in his boot. Possessions: Leather armor, basic adventuring supplies (rope, flint and steel, etc.). His hood is enchanted to make it very hard for someone who sees him with it up to remember his face. He also has a magic grappling hook enchanted to not make a sound. Personality: Tobias is glib, smart-alecky, cowardly, and tries his absolute best to be self-centered. Though he'd feverishly deny it, he's a fundamentally good person underneath the assumed selfish. He tries not to let anyone get close to him, and often uses snark and flat out lies as armor in social interaction. History: Getting the truth out of him about his personal history is extraordinarily difficult, but it's possible to determine that he's an orphan who grew up on the streets and has spent his life so far living in cities and alternating between pickpocket, con-man and cat burglar in order to survive. Also, hai Kronshi. Funny meeting you again. :p

La route semblait toujours plus longue quand une destination était en vue, Hanzo avait remarqué. C'était l'anticipation d'atteindre le point de repère, d'observer ce qu'il tenait et de voir ce qu'il y avait de nouveau. Le moine mentirait s'il disait qu'il ne s'approchait pas de cela avec un peu d'appréhension, non seulement en ne sachant pas à quoi s'attendre, mais en ce que tout ce qu'il a trouvé pourrait l'assaillir. Non pas que c'était une chose qui arrivait fréquemment, mais ça n'a pas empêché Hanzo de la redouter. Les choses pourraient changer si instantanément... La ville elle-même n'était pas un endroit qui se distinguait particulièrement, en termes de construction. Il s'agissait d'un simple village adapté au climat tempéré des régions septentrionales, doté d'une petite prime de terres agricoles et de leur propre monastère local. Ce qui était important, cependant, ce sont les événements qui ont eu lieu ici: une mystérieuse épidémie de la soi-disant maladie du cidre. L'apothécaire n'avait pas les ingrédients nécessaires pour fabriquer un remède, et ne pouvait pas épargner la main-d'œuvre pour les chercher lui-même; ils ont salué les aventuriers de loin et largement pour venir à leur aide et aider à créer un remède pour la maladie du Cinder. Naturellement, étant l'âme volontaire et empathique qu'il était, Hanzo s'efforça de l'aider. Ce n'était pas à lui de parcourir la distance pour arriver ici, mais en cherchant à prendre un travail comme celui-ci, Hanzo s'est toujours retrouvé bombé avec un fardeau de temps, ou le manque apparent de celui-ci, plutôt. C'est une chose qui n'a jamais changé - avoir besoin de voyager plus rapidement quand le temps était de l'essence se sentait toujours étrangement contre nature pour lui. Quoi qu'il en soit, le moine était arrivé au village en temps voulu, avec les premiers aperçus du visage du soleil regardant sur l'horizon oriental. Déjà quelques-uns d'entre eux se sont levés, soit pour s'acquitter de leurs tâches courantes, soit pour chercher l'apothicaire qui offre le poste critique. Hanzo lui-même a décidé d'épargner un peu de temps pour se détendre brièvement dans le village, pour se donner une vue de cet endroit pour la mémoire. Au moins, s'il venait à avoir besoin de quoi que ce soit en préparation après avoir pris le travail, le moine pourrait apprendre où le trouver.

Name: Vaeri Dryearurdrenn Age: 143 Alignment: Lawful Good Race: Elf Class: Cleric/Barbarian Appearance/Clothing: Vaeri is an innocent looking elf, standing at about 5' 7" (170 cm) with long, straight raven hair that extends down to the base of her back, pale skin and bright blue eyes. At a glance she's quite beautiful with full lips, a small button nose, thin eyebrows and high cheekbones, when one takes a closer look, several tiny scars are visible all over, disfiguring her otherwise graceful looks. Likewise, Vaeri's exposed flesh, the rare times one can see them initially appear smooth and untouched, but upon closer inspection are covered in scars and barely contain wiry muscle below. Vaeri dresses as a lady of the cloth should, with a dark blue full body cloak. The fabric is adorned with intricate patterns in white to provide visual contrast and indicating her status as a clergywoman. Around her neck and outside the cloak, Vaeri wears a necklace bearing the holy symbol of her god. However, underneath the cloak is a full set of leather armor, battle ready and kept in top shape at all times. Skills: Sense Motive, Knowledge (Religion), Knowledge (Nature), Climb, Jump, Sleight of Hand, fletching arrows, surviving out in the wild Natural Abilities: Keen senses, the ability to see better than humans in low light Magic/Spells: Heal: can decide how good this is Tongues: Allows the caster to speak any language for the duration of the spell Turn Undead: Vaeri can attempt to make Undead flee from her presence temporarily. Powerful Undead can resist this. Divine Might: Holy power infuses the caster, temporarily making them more powerful and resilient Flame Strike: Smites foes with holy flames Additional Information: Vaeri worships Menhit, lion-goddess of War. (Fun fact her name means She who massacres) Weapons: Vaeri carries a shortbow and a two-handed battleaxe Possessions: Vaeri carries a backpack that can hold more than you think it would and what Vaeri wants from the bag will always be at the top (the item in question must have been put in the bag beforehand for this to work). Inside the bag are her necessities (tent, rope, bedroll, tarp for the tent, soap, cooking utensils, oil, a lamp, flint and steel), holy texts, and about 2 weeks worth of rations. She also has a coin purse with about 20 gold pieces in it. On her hip is a quiver with 20 arrows. Personality: To strangers, Vaeri appears to be a gentle elf, always keen to help those in need and be a travelling force of good in the world. However, as you get to know her, slowly she morphs into an entirely different person, brash, head-strong and a braggart, this true face of Vaeri shows exactly why she worships the goddess she does. The elf loves battle of all kinds and will gleefully jump into battle whenever she can. History: Vaeri grew up in a forest village mostly populated by other elves to a carpenter. IN her childhood, she began learning the bow as all children did. Her prowess with weaponry was admired just as much as her excessive enthusiasm for using them was worrying. One day while out hunting alone she was overcome by a vision of the lion-goddess Menhit who commanded Vaeri to go out into the world and find a man with two right hands. After this experience, Vaeri began following the goddess of war and has dedicated her life to this mission. The cleric has been following this notice for strong adventurers as a possible lead for locating this mysterious man.

Magasin d'apothicaires Soeur Agnès a continué à passer par la boutique et le gardien de la boutique a continué à écrire les transcriptions pendant qu'ils attendaient. Le chant doux de la cloche en laiton résonnait à travers la pièce silencieuse alors que la porte s'ouvrait et que la nonne tournait sur ses talons pour voir qui entrait. Elle espérait que ce serait quelqu'un qui répondrait à l'annonce. Tilting sa tête sur le côté alors qu'elle voyait la femme qu'elle se demandait si elle était juste là comme une patronne normale ou s'il y avait plus elle. Le vieil homme derrière le comptoir principal a levé les yeux et a placé sa plume dans le puits avant de se dégager la gorge. Bienvenue à la boutique Apothecary de Gorlton. Je suis l'Apothicaire Wylsen, que puis-je faire pour vous aujourd'hui? -Il a dit d'un ton joyeux comme il s'est redressé de sa position affûtée. Sana Sana se rapprocha de Hugh, se cachant sous les draps alors qu'il se déplaçait; lançant les jambes avec les siennes comme elle l'a fait. Alors qu'il se moquait de ses cheveux, elle s'est moquée de lui et lui a mordu la poitrine avec gaieté. Tu vas gâcher ma tête de lit magnifiquement stylée!, elle sifflait mais elle n'était pas contrariée, eh bien elle l'était mais ce n'était pas à Hugh. À l'heure actuelle, elle voulait mettre une flèche à travers les cordes vocales et la moitié souhaitait que Vivian soit là avec l'un de ses sorts ennuyants d'obscurité pour se débarrasser du soleil. Au moins où elle était, elle ne ferait pas de voyage et tomberait sur n'importe qui. Comme il lui a dit bonjour, elle a incliné la tête en arrière et a lentement tiré sa tête de sous les couvertures et a grondé. Elle a dit avant qu'elle bâille et tire le dos de sa main sur sa bouche pour la couvrir avant d'enfiler le drap sous son bras pour couvrir sa poitrine pendant qu'elle se roulait sur son dos et s'étirait légèrement, lui armant le dos profondément. Alors que le coq se recrocha, elle rétrécit les yeux et s'élança hors du lit, prenant le drap avec elle pendant qu'elle l'enveloppait et marcha vers la fenêtre pour voir si elle pouvait localiser la bête qui avait osé interrompre son sommeil. En le voyant, elle a regardé en bas et a repéré un rocher qui avait été logé dans sa botte de la veille de voyage et l'a ramassé, un sourire froid venant à travers ses traits. En prenant le but, elle a jeté le rocher comme si elle le sautait sur un étang. Le coq a appelé comme il l'a frappé à l'arrière près de la base de ses plumes de queue et s'est enfui, à moitié volant comme il l'a fait. Sana riait un peu, avant de fermer la fenêtre et de baisser l'ombre pour qu'elle puisse s'habiller sans avoir à s'inquiéter que quelqu'un la voie. En tournant, elle avait un regard d'amusement sur son visage et a hurlé. Là, l'enfoiré a été vaincu! » Elle a dit avant de se donner une tape sur le dos et de errer vers le lit ; assis sur le bord. Guess nous devons nous habiller et trouver de la nourriture.

Name: Hanzo Jibero Age: 26 Alignment: Lawful Neutral Race: Human Class: Monk Appearance/Clothing: Skills: Acrobatics Survival Historical & Religious Knowledge Climbing & Swimming Perception Emotion Reading Ki Manipulation Martial Arts, Grappling, & Throwing Natural Abilities: Has honed his body to its upper limits in durability and reflexes, and learned to how manipulate his Ki (spiritual energy); otherwise, he possesses no special abilities of note for a human. Magic/Spells: Ki Strike - A focused attack bolstered through Ki. Grants a chance for normal damage to penetrate armor and natural resistances. Can be charged for a slightly greater chance. Ki Blast - Hanzo channels Ki into his hands to throw out a bolt of raw energy that travels a short distance. Functions as a basic magical attack with a chance to penetrate physical armor (akin to Ki Strike), but must be charged to yield the proper effect initially. Ki Mending - A monk's own 'lay on hands' technique using Ki. Restores a bit of health and fights magical impurities. Additional Information: This monk hails from an old culture that bears worship to the spirit of nature, rather than any specific god. They bless the sun and the moon for giving them light, and the earth and its bounty for giving them life. A somewhat nomadic culture, these monks rarely established buildings or relics for anything beyond shelter, aiming to preserve nature as best as they could. This culture took up martial arts and the art of Ki manipulation as a means of defensing oneself without resorting to weapons or lethality, and to hone one's body and spirit to its greatest potential. Life was simple and peaceful, yet active and fulfilling. They took what they needed from nature and kindly returned what they did not, blessing all creatures that lost their lives as fulfilling a greater purpose. For Hanzo, this has since changed somewhat. Where he once could've wandered without ever getting lost, he now struggles to find a purpose in this new reality revealed to him. He has long since gotten over the culture shock of the developing world, however, and still finds himself traveling about, benefiting others where he sees fit. The wonder still remains, however, and the monk can't help but wish for a sign to reveal his own destiny. Equipment: Hanzo possesses no weapons besides his fists, but does wear a small medium of protective gear: leather bracers on his forearms and legs, and a belt with magical properties that reinforces his natural durability. Possessions: Something of a miser, Hanzo carries little gear or money on his person. He is always seens with his monk's clothing (see above), as well as a waterskin, a crest of his clan, and a ring of prayer beads. Should the need arise, the sash he wears can be improvised as a ten-foot rope. Personality: By nature, Hanzo is a respectful individual, treating others with kindness when he can see they deserve it. Through his experiences, however, the monk has learned to only really trust those he has discovered as righteous at heart, even if not always purely good. As such, he comes and goes in his travels, not often staying to maintain friendships but still holding them at heart. Getting to know Hanzo and sympathize with him can turn the monk into a faithful ally, even beyond an initial partnership. As a result of his less fortunate experiences, Hanzo bears a stern sense of justice, and is quite willing to help others in desperate need (for better or worse, at times). He tends to be straightforward, but also cautious and logical - not below fighting others to reach a solution, but wise enough to seek an alternate method. As a part of his vowing of respect as a monk, Hanzo will never willingly kill a fellow human/elf/etc, but when pitted against the 'inhumane' (monstrous creatures and truly sinful individuals) he will not share that grace. History: Hanzo was born naturally within a nomadic tribe of monks. As a youth, he was eager to learn their ways and trained hard to better himself. He found himself fitting in well with the culture, benefiting greatly from its teachings and giving him a fairly fulfilling life, at the time. Of course, some things have a tendency to change so very suddenly. As Hanzo's generation was beginning to reach their coming of adulthood, one girl was suddenly outcast from the monks in what had to be a first in their history. She had always been something of a quiet loner, but what put her off the edge was her possession and obsession with a unique steel knife abandoned in the forest. Though Hanzo was somewhat regretful of her suffering this fate, as he was one of the few people to show her kindness, he was ultimately made to pay it no mind. Disaster struck, however, when but a few moons later, the girl returned in the accompany of a legion of violent warriors. She had discovered that the knife was of their craft, and immediately became absorbed into their vastly differing knowledge. When she weaved a tale of being isolated and betrayed by her primitive family and clan, the battle-bred warriors were empowered to aid her in revenge. So began the crusade against Hanzo's clan, a long night of fire beneath a bloody moon. As fear and panic settled in, a still-young Hanzo was desperately urged to flee, even as family and friends alike were quickly slaughtered under the warriors' powerful weapons. Under the shadow of the forest, Hanzo managed to evade the clan's new enemies, and believed himself to be a solitary survivor. But while the fires still remained in sight, Hanzo was suddenly confronted by the girl, bloody knife in hand. Though she had initially spared Hanzo for the kinship he had offered, the murderer claimed to have dicovered a new way of life, driven by a far more powerful emotion: wrath. Seeing the monk feel his own brand of wrath, she offered him another chance, to channel and release this rage the only way she knew how. Hanzo refused, deciding she had more than lost her mind, and attempted to fight her in his anger. Their tango was brief but brutal, put to a painful end when the murderer was knocked headfirst into a collapse of burning branches, blinding her. He only regrets not having learned her name. The time following was harsh to Hanzo, not because he could not survive but because he had nobody else to survive with. He was alone, his family, friends, and culture all mercilessly slaughtered. Hanzo's outlook changed - it had to, if he was going to truly live any longer. The monk began to wander the world again, a world that seemed to so vastly change overnight, as he passed through many towns, kingdoms, and nations. He would help others as he deemed without compensation, all the while hoping to find some new sense of purpose as she had.

Fiona n'a pas pu s'empêcher de rire. Elle avait trouvé les compliments excessifs de Tobias plutôt ennuyeux au début, et alors qu'elle n'était toujours pas trop amoureuse d'eux, elle a dû admettre qu'ils étaient un peu attachants. Elle n'allait certainement pas lui dire ça. Elle regardait prudemment lorsqu'il décollait; elle pensait que cela prendrait plus de temps pour que son cheval s'ouvre à lui, mais il semblait s'en sortir bien. Elle ne savait pas s'il fallait être impressionné ou ennuyé par ça. "Tout n'est pas méchant et maléfique, vous savez," a-t-elle commenté, se tirant doucement sur son cheval. "Je pense que ça ressemble à un joli village. Un peu comme chez moi, et d'où je viens, personne n'est en partie démon. Tout ira bien." Elle savait qu'elle pouvait être un peu mal informée à certains moments, se précipitant aveuglément vers l'avant quand sa confiance lui a valu le meilleur d'elle. Peut-être que la naïve était même le bon mot. Tobias l'avait vu pour lui-même, quand ils se sont rencontrés, mais en ce moment elle se sentait certaine d'être détendue. C'était une bonne cause, pour les bonnes personnes, et il y avait même une bonne récompense liée à la fin pour Tobias d'attendre avec impatience. « Arrêtons-nous d'abord à l'apothécaire. Nous pouvons avoir quelque chose à manger après." Ils avaient eu un petit déjeuner maigre, et elle avait des restes de nourriture, mais maintenant qu'ils étaient à nouveau dans un village, ils pourraient probablement trouver quelque chose de mieux à manger. Les affaires sont arrivées en premier. Fiona tira son cheval à un arrêt à l'extérieur de la boutique, démontant et menant le chemin à l'intérieur, où elle trouva l'apothicaire salutation d'une femme elfique. Elle a attendu de savoir qu'elle n'interrompait rien, puis s'est présentée. "Bonjour. Tobias et moi sommes ici au sujet de l'avis, concernant la maladie de la cendre. Mon nom est Fiona."

Name: Fiona Age: 22 Alignment: Neutral Good Race: Human Class: Fighter Appearance/Clothing: Reference 1, Reference 2. Fairly average height, with a lean and toned build. Fiery, wild red hair and light brown eyes, skin tone a fair, slightly pale coloration. Skills: Close combat fighting, speed and agility, moderate strength, excellent horseback riding skills. Proficient both armed and unarmed, moderate endurance for taking hits. Good at cooking with relatively little to work with, and while likely irrelevant, good at farming. Natural Abilities: None - Human Magic/Spells: None Armor: Roughly as seen in the image, some pieces of scavenged light plate, most effectively protecting her right arm. Weapons: Use reference 2 for example. A fairly standard curved longsword, lightweight but sturdy. She has a dagger sheathed on her left thigh for emergencies. Possessions: Little of note. Her clothes, weapons, armor, packs, supplies, basic medical items and personal belongings. Most of it kept in her horse's saddlebags. Personality: Fiona's bold and brash, often unafraid of things she probably should be, and in general a very confident and self-assured individual. Like any good adventurer she is both curious and brave, but also deeply selfless, not preferring to use the word 'mercenary' to describe herself, as this implies the coin is the end goal she works for. Mostly she just enjoys her life for what it is: a chance to explore, meet new people and see new things, and help wherever she can, with what skill she has. Though typically a loner, she doesn't turn down help when offered, and tries to work together with others as best she can. She's an inexperienced, terrible liar, preferring both her combat and her conversation upfront and uncomplicated. History: Fiona's story is a relatively simple one, starting with a family not important enough to even have a lasting name. She's simply Fiona, of the village of Drayden, a little farming community quite a ways from many large population centers. Fiona was an only child, and thus assisted a great deal around the farm, becoming strong and physically active as a result. Wandering adventurers inspired her even as a teenage girl, and her mind would not be swayed from eventually leaving the family farm to see the world. When they were eventually able to hire some help, she used what coin she had to purchase some basic equipment, and set out at age 19, blade in hand, hunting for contracts. Naturally, without the best of training or a good starting foundation of equipment and knowledge, Fiona struggled in her first few years, but learned from her mistakes, and has developed into a competent and even confident fighter, willing and able to take on problems the average person doesn't want to deal with.

Mortosh a marché sa jupe traînée derrière lui, il s'est arrêté et a regardé le village devant lui, il a regardé autour de lui et a vu un signe et "Bienvenue à" (que Odd le nom semble avoir été arraché) "Zam Wake Up We Have Arrived" Sensant son épaule Pocket shift il regardait et Saw Zam's Head sortait de son trou hideux ses yeux cachés derrière ses Bangs (Si j'avais un coeur il serait mort deux fois maintenant) Mortosh pensait qu'il a commencé à marcher dans la ville "Morty avez-vous vraiment eu à me réveiller j'ai eu le rêve le plus étonnant jamais" dit Zam alors qu'elle regardait le vide où son visage devrait être "L'un sur la terre du sucre et du gâteau?" Zam Noté dans la conformation "YEAH!!!"si les gens de la ville ne donnaient pas un regard bizarre au duo avant qu'ils ne soient sûrs que Trew et son amour l'Undead où les donner maintenant "Not So Loud Zam Les gens nous regardent" "Laissez-les regarder Mort Mort ils ne savent pas qu'ils ont affaire à GRANDE HEALER DE TOUTE HEALER" Zam Yelled at the Towns Folk Avec un soupir de non-existence et une chuckle Mortosh a renoncé à essayer de la calmer "Si vous n'arrêtez pas que Yelling Your Not Get Your Sugar Cube" Zam l'a regardé avec le choc "Votre mensonge" Elle a accusé "Il n'y a qu'une façon de trouver maintenant Demandez à cet enfant où est Zam l'Apothécary Shop" Elle a quitté son trou et a demandé à l'enfant où est "Elle dit ça comme ça" Zam Pointé droit devant "maintenant Où est mon sucre Mort?" Mortosh a marché dans la direction que Zam était pointée vers "Vous l'obtiendrez quand atteindre la boutique" "I better" Zam Said Comme elle s'est abaissée dans son trou et Mortosh vient de continuer à marcher vers la boutique

Name: Mortosh Celjust and Zam Mano Age: last time he counted 696 (Zam is 200 a kid by her races standard) Alignment: Chaotic Good (Zam is Neutral Good) Race: undead but more specifically a Skeleton (Zam is a Petal For more information on those look for them on page 120 of monster manual III) Class: Cleric (Zam doesn’t really have a class as she is supposed to act as an item much like boo from Baldur’s gate) Appearance/Clothing: Mortosh wears an enchanted blue hood that obscures his entire face making appear as a black void with blue lights wear his eyes should be this is to hide his skull. He wears an iron chest plate with iron gauntlets his legs are hidden by a long blue skirt and iron boots (Zam’s Skin is light blue her hair is a darker shade of blue her bang cover her eyes she wares gray cloth dress her wings are the same color as her skin) Skills: For Mortosh it is Hide Diplomacy Knowledge (religion) Survival Heal ( For Zam it is Bluff and Gather Information Knowledge (nature) as Zam doesn’t actually have class I decided that it would be op to give her any more skills Natural Abilities: Undead-Life: as an undead you are immune to age effects and disease. Unbreakable: An undead has no death ticks. Undead appetite: The Undead are able to use the undead appetite encounter power. (Zam) Lullaby: Any creature within a 20-foot-radius that fails a DC 14 Will save is affected as though by a lullaby spell. A creature that successfully saves cannot be affected again by that petal’s lullaby song for 24 hours. The save DC is Charisma-based. Magic/Spells: Remove Fear: Suppresses fear or gives +4 on saves against fear for one subject + one per four levels Create Food and Water: Feeds three humans (or one horse)/level. Bless: Allies gain +1 on attack rolls and saves against fear Calming Embrace: By placing his hands on friends, or foes restores Mortosh will restore a bit of health as calm down bersekers Insect Plague: Locust swarms attack creatures (Zam) Chatter: A spell created by Zam And Mortosh To allow Zam to speak for Mortosh Calm Emotions: Calms creatures, negating emotion effects Light: Object shines like a torch lie. Additional Information: he is a cleric of Trew Barton The god of joy and undeath. The lack of a lower jaw makes it hard to speak so Zam usually translate for him she also sits on his shoulder. Mortosh sometimes will be overwhelmed with greed causing him steal without thought this has caused him to land into a whole heap of trouble in the past. Weapons: A Simple mace (Zam Like most of her race doesn’t carry a lethal weapons but she dose carry a blow gun which she uses to shoot darts laced with sleeping powder she doesn’t use this very often due to the ingredients used in the sleeping powder are quite rare) Possessions: Mortosh Carries a shrunken zombie around his neck (Zam Owns Shinobue a Side blown flute) Mortosh has a jar full of flower that he carries around for Zam he carries it around for so she doesn't faint from hot or thick air EDIT: Three vials of Moderate Inflict Wounds Personality: Mortosh is a very friendly Skeleton he is calm and hard to anger but his years of lacking the capability of speech has damaged his social skills quite badly which can make him come off as insensitive. while he is perfectly of take on offensive role he dose fell uncomfortable hurting others be they man or beast but he will not complain if fighting is necessary.(Zam is quite battle hungry once again by her races standard anyway she can’t really stand the thought of staying in one place to long she also has obsession with sugar give her some and shell be your friend for life ironically this is not the reason way she follows Mortosh) History: 696 Years ago Mortosh rose from his grave no memory of his past life the only thing he remembered was his cleric training Mortosh spent a good chunk of his first fifty years searching for his past to no avail Realizing that trying to search for a past that he no idea about or even the reason why he was searching so he gave up on searching and decided to just travel why? He didn’t know back then but now he know he was looking for purpose and he found it when he encountered a necromancer and a follower of Trew. He spoke to Mortosh and told him about Trew. Mortosh was intrigued with Trew so asked the necromancer how he could show his loyalties to Trew and the necromancer handed him the shrunken head. Confused Mortosh asked the necromancer about the head and he told him that the head was the symbol of Trew then he requested that Mortosh would spread the massage of Trew. Mortosh accept the his request but before he went he realized one thing. He would be run out of any village or town before he even toke his first step so asked the necromancer to enchant his hood so it would only show a void. So The necromancer enchanted Mortosh’s hood so with his enchanted hood on Mortosh thank the necromancer and went on his to spread the word of Trew and that how he spend his next two hundred years spreading the word that was until he angered a zealous paladin who broke his jaw to pieces. With no jaw all his words came out as mumbling so not being able to spread the word he turned to learning healing magic so he spent the next hundred years learning. this was around the time that Zam was Born two hundred years ago Zam was. Born in to a tribe of petals a race of tiny fey creatures she was treated well enough but she was still an outcast among her race she wasn’t as talented in art as the rest of her race. So she turned to other thing like spellcraft this is what taught her to speak all other tongues she would later encounter Mortosh when he would save her from a plague walker. Mortosh Seeing that Zam had gotten hurt would go on to heal all her wounds. Grateful for his deed Zam asked him what she could do for him. Mortosh lowered his hood and showed her his lack of lower jaw and he needed someone to speak for him as she was the only one that understood what he was saying she agreed and they have been traveling ever since

Au fond des montagnes, il y avait un cheval. Il était noir dans la nature avec des éperons de blanc dans sa fourrure. Actuellement, la bête était attachée à un arbre, cet arbre était assez proche d'une caverne, qui était connue des villageois pour être la maison d'une bête d'une nature assez inconnue. Les villageois savaient qu'il y avait de grandes crosses, qu'il avait utilisées pour arracher des moutons en deux ou pour déchirer des clôtures ou des arbres et toute autre chose qu'ils avaient autour de leurs villages. C'était le travail, un travail qui a été pris par un magicien plutôt mystérieux. Les habitants l'appelaient mystérieux, eh bien, n'importe quel magicien était mystérieux pour eux, mais celui-ci semblait différent par rapport au reste qu'ils avaient rencontré dans le passé. Il se moquait de ce qu'ils lui payaient et il ne semblait pas se soucier de ce qu'ils voulaient qu'il fasse. Ils savaient qu'un magicien avait tué des monstres dans cette région, ils pensaient que c'était lui. Les rumeurs disent qu'il n'a jamais négocié et gâché avec le prix d'un travail et qu'il était tout à fait prêt à prendre une réduction de salaire. Parfois, il n'allait même pas voir les gens qui offraient le travail, il le tuait. Pendant ce temps dans la caverne... Il y avait un homme caché couché sur le terrain rocheux inconscient. Lui et son manteau se sont étendus, son bâton était à quelques pieds. Il semble qu'il ait été frappé. Ou c'est ce qu'il semblerait comme s'il n'y avait pas un monstre, aussi, inconscient à l'autre bout de la caverne, à environ trente pieds de là. Devant le sorcier se trouvait une source de lumière dissipante, éclatante, appendice. "Arg... Il semblerait que nous nous soyons assommés l'un l'autre en même temps." La voix de la fouetterie venait de l'homme, maintenant conscient, l'homme était agité. Il s'est clampé jusqu'aux pieds. « Juste dans le temps, j'étais presque trop lent. Mon bras du ciel était juste assez rapide pour le frapper pendant qu'il me frappait. Je suppose que nous avons tous les deux été frappés." Il a dit tout cela à haute voix pour une raison quelconque. Je n'aurais pas dû parler à haute voix. Son raisonnement s'est vite réalisé. Le monstre a commencé à remuer. "Blast, je savais que ça ne suffirait pas. Je vais devoir essayer... Mais ça ne marchera peut-être pas. Je ne sais pas à quel point c'est dur la peau... l'armure est." Il n'a pas eu le temps d'envisager les possibilités, il a récupéré son personnel. Le monstre avait déjà repris pied. C'est rapide... Le monstre était d'environ douze pieds de haut et pouvait se déplacer incroyablement vite pour sa taille, si vite qu'il est difficile d'obtenir vraiment un bon regard jusqu'à ce qu'il s'arrête complètement. Quoi qu'il en soit, ça venait maintenant, portant des crocs et des griffes énormes. Melvus lui tira la main, le bras s'était complètement dissipé à ce moment-là, il en sortit un bras de lumière pure. Il semblait attraper le monstre hors de sa garde, il ralentissait légèrement. Melvus a tiré à travers la caverne alors que le bras a saisi une partie du mur et l'a tiré le long à une vitesse incroyable. Le monstre a heurté le mur... non, il s'est retourné, la poussière était en train de changer de direction. Le bras s'était dissipé à nouveau, Melvus retenait son bâton, il lançait une lance brillante, il se brisait en plusieurs dizaines de lances plus petites, le monstre apportait ses bras comme il chargeait, les lances ne semblaient pas avoir d'effet. Melvus a amené son bâton dans ses deux mains et de sa main droite a tiré un bras de lumière, l'accrochant contre le mur, en moins d'une seconde, il a été touché. Quand la poussière s'installa, l'image était d'un manteau portant un sorcier, tenant un bâton avec une main éclatante contre le mur derrière lui. Devant, non, au-dessus de lui était un monstre qui était beaucoup plus grand que lui. Son bâton tenait sa bouche à la baie et il y avait des épées éthérées autour de lui, dont beaucoup tenaient les griffes de la bête en place.

Removed

Vaeri était sur le point de parler quand deux personnes toutes deux vêtues d'armure en cuir sont entrées, une fille aux cheveux qui rappelait à l'elfe des feuilles d'automne brillantes et un homme aux cheveux noirs qui semblait moins confiant que son compagnon de voyage. Eh bien, elle a supposé qu'ils étaient compagnons depuis qu'ils sont entrés en même temps et la fille connaissait le nom de l'autre. « Il semble que vous deux soyez ici dans le même but que moi », commente doucement Vaeri avant qu'elle ne se tourne vers l'Apothicaire, « Je suis venu ici pour voir comment prendre part à la demande que votre association a faite. N'est-on pas trop tard?" Le fait de faire des choix sur ce que vous faites à partir de papier que vous trouvez dans un trou de boue est que vous ne savez jamais vraiment combien de temps ce papier a été dans ce trou de boue. Peut-être avaient-ils déjà résolu ce problème il y a des semaines et avaient-ils juste oublié de supprimer tous les avis. Il y avait plus de gens ici aussi, mais ça pourrait être une coïncidence et ils sont tous les deux venus dans ce village pour rien.

Name: Vaeri Dryearurdrenn Age: 143 Alignment: Lawful Good Race: Elf Class: Cleric/Barbarian Appearance/Clothing: Vaeri is an innocent looking elf, standing at about 5' 7" (170 cm) with long, straight raven hair that extends down to the base of her back, pale skin and bright blue eyes. At a glance she's quite beautiful with full lips, a small button nose, thin eyebrows and high cheekbones, when one takes a closer look, several tiny scars are visible all over, disfiguring her otherwise graceful looks. Likewise, Vaeri's exposed flesh, the rare times one can see them initially appear smooth and untouched, but upon closer inspection are covered in scars and barely contain wiry muscle below. Vaeri dresses as a lady of the cloth should, with a dark blue full body cloak. The fabric is adorned with intricate patterns in white to provide visual contrast and indicating her status as a clergywoman. Around her neck and outside the cloak, Vaeri wears a necklace bearing the holy symbol of her god. However, underneath the cloak is a full set of leather armor, battle ready and kept in top shape at all times. Skills: Sense Motive, Knowledge (Religion), Knowledge (Nature), Climb, Jump, Sleight of Hand, fletching arrows, surviving out in the wild Natural Abilities: Keen senses, the ability to see better than humans in low light Magic/Spells: Heal: can decide how good this is Tongues: Allows the caster to speak any language for the duration of the spell Turn Undead: Vaeri can attempt to make Undead flee from her presence temporarily. Powerful Undead can resist this. Divine Might: Holy power infuses the caster, temporarily making them more powerful and resilient Flame Strike: Smites foes with holy flames Additional Information: Vaeri worships Menhit, lion-goddess of War. (Fun fact her name means She who massacres) Weapons: Vaeri carries a shortbow and a two-handed battleaxe Possessions: Vaeri carries a backpack that can hold more than you think it would and what Vaeri wants from the bag will always be at the top (the item in question must have been put in the bag beforehand for this to work). Inside the bag are her necessities (tent, rope, bedroll, tarp for the tent, soap, cooking utensils, oil, a lamp, flint and steel), holy texts, and about 2 weeks worth of rations. She also has a coin purse with about 20 gold pieces in it. On her hip is a quiver with 20 arrows. Personality: To strangers, Vaeri appears to be a gentle elf, always keen to help those in need and be a travelling force of good in the world. However, as you get to know her, slowly she morphs into an entirely different person, brash, head-strong and a braggart, this true face of Vaeri shows exactly why she worships the goddess she does. The elf loves battle of all kinds and will gleefully jump into battle whenever she can. History: Vaeri grew up in a forest village mostly populated by other elves to a carpenter. IN her childhood, she began learning the bow as all children did. Her prowess with weaponry was admired just as much as her excessive enthusiasm for using them was worrying. One day while out hunting alone she was overcome by a vision of the lion-goddess Menhit who commanded Vaeri to go out into the world and find a man with two right hands. After this experience, Vaeri began following the goddess of war and has dedicated her life to this mission. The cleric has been following this notice for strong adventurers as a possible lead for locating this mysterious man.

Zarxire est entré en ville, son manteau a tiré sur sa tête pour couvrir ses cornes. "Bon endroit, ça ne dérangerait pas de vivre ici si ce n'était pas si froid." Il a ensuite remarqué le bâtiment apothicaire l'avis décrit, espérons que personne ne révélerait son identité et peut-être, peut-être, que c'était chaud. Zarxire est entré dans le bâtiment et a remarqué deux aventuriers humains et un elfe. Tous étant de hauteur moyenne pour un humain, il tournait légèrement au-dessus d'eux à 6 pieds 2 po. mais avait une taille beaucoup plus maigre que les trois. Il est passé à la table où la sœur était assise et s'est assise : « Ne t'inquiète pas, je les ai regardés poster les avis moi-même. Il n'y a aucun moyen qu'un groupe d'aventuriers puisse voyager assez loin pour des ingrédients rares en seulement une semaine. » Zarxire regarda vers la sœur et s'assura de garder son manteau sur sa tête. "Je m'appelle Zack, je suis un sorcier formé et je connais beaucoup de la terre. Je suis sûr qu'avec ces gens qui aident à combattre les monstres, nous pourrions certainement trouver les ingrédients que vous cherchez. Si vous voulez bien m'avoir." Zarxire regarda en arrière vers les trois, l'un était manifestement un combattant entraîné, l'autre semblait plus adapté aux rues, et le dernier sentait distinctement la magie sainte et un peu de sang. Ce groupe semble déjà intéressant, se demande qui d'autre va venir.

Name: Zarxire Age: 44, but due to Tieflings aging slower he appears 31 Alignment: Neutral Good Race: Tiefling Class: Pyromancer Appearance/Clothing: Except with the typical Tiefling horns and tail Skills: Intimidate, Knowledge (Arcana), Knowledge (Geography), Knowledge (History), Knowledge (Nature), Knowledge (Nobility), Knowledge (Planes), Knowledge (Religion), Perception, Sense Motive, SpellCraft, Pyromancy, Survival Natural Abilities: Hellfire: "Tieflings are able to fuel their rage into their attacks, leaving burn marks on their foes without ever summoning a flame." -Adds fire damage to all melee attacks, can only be used when extremely pissed, which is easy for a tiefling. Spiked Tail: "Some tieflings tails grow in with a sharp serrated edge. These tails are typically thicker and can be used in combat." -Can use tail to attack Magic/Spells: Fireball: Umm, does this need a description. Flame Pillar: A giant pillar of flame erupts from the ground, encasing the targeted area in the fires of hell Blaze Storm: Flames exude from the user, coating the area around him in flames Fire in the Body: The user coats himself in fire, lashing out at all those around him Fire in the Mind: This spell makes all of the user's allies feel his burning rage, causing his partners to become more passionate in the fight Fire in the Soul: The user takes on the form of a 20 ft. flaming beast, although this is an illusion and those with high intelligence or those he has told of this skill are un-affected. Fire in the Blood (Passive): Whenever the user takes fire damage, he takes no damage and heals for 1/4 of the damage he would have been dealt. Additional Information: He hates it if someone touches his horns Weapons: No weapons Possessions: A long fire-retardant robe and cloak, and fire-proof boots of his design. Backpack full of books he hasn't finished yet. Personality: Typically a very level-headed and calm person, Zarxire has spent many years training to learn everything he could. Though in the heat of battle, he loses all sense of focus and lashes out at everything that stands in his way until everything that defies him is dead. History: Born to a small Tiefling community, Zarxire was a rather happy and average child. The day he turned 10, raiders destroyed his town. They were seeking to eliminate the "demon scum". All he remembers of this horrifying massacre were the flames boiling around him before he passed out. Luckily, the raiders thought him dead and passed him over, Zarxire woke up with nothing but burning ashes remaining of his town. After wandering in the wilds, learning all about it and how to survive in it, he finally came across a wizard's home on the edge of the woods. Due to him being young, his tails and horns had not grown in yet, so the wizard thought he was human and adopted the boy. Zarxire learned everything he could about magic, religion, the planes his kind originated from, and everything he could about the people, their culture, and their land. He would walk around the village that was not far from the wizard's house and would study the people, learning how they ticked. Sadly, as he grew older the only magic he could learn was fire magic which hinted at his origins. but when his horns started to grown in, it was obvious. The wizard sold him out the the militia, and Zarxire fled back into the woods, taking all the books he could with him. He built his own shelter, studied the books he had scavenged as well as a couple he had bought at markets if he could hide his horns and tail. Zarxire swore to fight against any and all injustice, whether it was dealt be demon, monster, human, or royalty. One day, he saw the notices for The Convent and saw it as his chance to prove himself. By helping a holy church, it would prove that he wasn't just some malicious demon. Not to mention that but his knowledge of the world would be very beneficial to the group. So Zarxire packed his books and made his way to the Village of Gorlton’s Apothecary immediately, wondering who he would be teamed up with.

Hugh sentit Sana se rapprocher de lui et lançant ses jambes avec les siennes. C'était plus que confortable d'être comme ça. Il était assez heureux et détendu, c'est pourquoi il est venu comme un peu de surprise pour Hugh quand il a senti une petite morsure sur sa poitrine nue. "Ahh!" C'est son exclamation surprise. "Bonjour." Il a dit, d'un ton un peu plus déçu. Ça n'a pas vraiment fait mal. C'était plus comme être mordu par un chaton. Il lui apporta la main dans le bas du dos et la frotta un peu, avant qu'elle ne s'enfuie, et il suivit la suite, bien que sa main fût encore sous son corps. Quand elle a pris le drap avec elle, il a senti une froideur soudaine comme tout ce qu'il portait était sa petite paire de shorts qu'il portait sous son tuyau. Sana avait enlevé les couvertures du lit, même si tout ce qu'elle avait prévu de prendre était le drap, et elle s'était assurée qu'il était mal à l'aise. "Ack!" Il s'exclama, alors qu'il sautait jusqu'à une position assise au bord du lit et s'étirait. Il regarda Sana, voyant qu'elle était debout, et la faisant vers la fenêtre. Elle se tenait là et fixait une seconde, avant d'acquérir un rocher et de le jeter. Le faible bruit d'un poulet sentant la douleur a été entendu, tandis que Hugh soulevait un sourcil. Le mystère de ce qui vient de se passer s'est vite révélé alors que Sana parlait de la façon dont elle avait vaincu ce bâtard. Cela a apporté un sourire amusé au visage de Hugh alors qu'il la regardait. "Crédulité pour les animaux. Je vois." Il m'a dit, de façon taquine. Il se leva après ses paroles au sujet de s'habiller et se dirigea vers son tas de vêtements et d'armures. -- Oui, il semble que ce soit à ce moment-là. Il a regardé ses vêtements pendant un moment, souhaitant plus de profiter d'un peu plus de temps avec elle. Ses pensées étaient remplies d'un peu de fantasme alors qu'il commençait à mettre son pantalon et à les tirer jusqu'à ce qu'ils fussent snobs. Il a hésité à mettre sa chemise, pensant qu'il pourrait passer et peut-être profiter d'un peu plus de temps seul avec Sana. Il s'est relâché et a commencé à tirer tous ses vêtements, finissant enfin avec ses bottes. Il a juste laissé son armure, préférant plutôt être dans une tenue d'affaires plus décontractée, même s'il portait habituellement la même chose. Il se tenait debout et redressait ses vêtements, essuyant toute poussière accumulée dans la pile où son vêtement se trouvait sur le sol. Avec l'accomplissement de sa tâche, il a inhalé profondément et a frappé sa poitrine d'une manière de se pomper jusqu'à la rencontre de la journée. Il s'étire sur le côté du lit où Sana était assise dans un drap. Elle avait l'air aussi belle que jamais, sinon un peu comique pour lui. Elle respirait néanmoins et l'image d'elle avec une tête de lit tenant une feuille pour couvrir son corps apportait un sourire content au visage de Hugh. Il se tenait au-dessus d'elle, se penchait pour lui embrasser le front, retenait l'arrière de sa tête avec sa main et courait ses doigts dans ses cheveux. Il a posé ses lèvres sur son front et a pris un souffle d'elle. Il s'est retiré du baiser et a dit : "Je serai en bas pour prendre le petit déjeuner." Avec cela, il a reculé, sa main traçant à travers ses cheveux, avant de se tourner vers la sortie et de marcher lentement vers elle, sentant la privation de sommeil de certains de ces derniers jours.

Name: Hugh Van Halder Age: 45 Alignment: Neutral Good Race: Human Class: Fighter, Ex-Paladin Appearance/Clohing: He stands at 6'2", a tower of years of built up muscle. He wears a dark earthen blue tunic over a white linen three button pullover shirt. He wears a pair of black shorts(under his pants) and a pair of dark gray hosen(medieval style pants). He'll wear a chain mail shirt and these pauldrons additionally he'll wear leather knee and shin armor. He wears a small gray hood and a bear fur cloak. Skills: He is a good brawler and can fight with anything he can get his hands on(He's used bed rolls before). Horseback riding. Swordfighting, throwing axes, and two handed weapon fighting. He's been able to use crossbows before, but despises them, as they are delicate and take a lot of work just to reload. Bushcraft and survival stuff. Smoking(if that qualifies as a skill). Some cooking. Natural Abilities: He's strong and durable and can take a lot of beatings. He's pretty much a tank. He can drink a lot of alcohol and only get buzzed. Otherwise, he's just a normal human. Magic Spells: N/A Additional Information: He is in a relationship with Sana Rawn. He has a draft horse, named Rodger. Weapons: He wields a large crude looking battle axe and a falchion. Additionally, he has one small crude throwing axe. Possessions: A rucksack with jerky, bread, cheese, rags, spark rocks(basically one is made of magnesium), rope, ladle, cooking knife, two plates, and tobacco. He also has saddle bags on his horse, which he stores his pipe, more tobacco, sugar cubes, a brush, a stick and bow(which he uses for lighting his pipe), and a few salt licks. He has two water skins. One he keeps on his horse, and one on his person or in rucksack. Additionally he has a pot and a frying pan strapped down to the outside of his rucksack. He also wears a ring on a little chain around his neck and he never seems to take it off, as it was given to him by Sana. Personality: He is a more contented man, liking simple things in life, especially enjoying smoking his pipe with a wonderful scenery, usually in the form of a beautiful day and his love, Sana. He has a more realistic attitude towards the world, not being an idealist, only doing things to help. He has great respect for the natural order of things, and you won't find him trying to seek out revenge. He still has a fiery temper when it is stoked enough to come out. History: Hugh was once part of a great order of paladins. They had much land and ruled with wisdom. Their lands were prosperous and fertile. Many were jealous of their lands, but no one had the courage enough to take on the great and Noble order. Their paladins were fierce and formidable fighters. They all stood higher than 6' and were towers of muscle. They were truly terrifying men. But they were brought down under scandal. Fabricated accusations about them stealing their riches and enslaving other groups of people for labor. The scandals kept growing until they were set upon by every surrounding nation. They stood no chance. Many were killed, only a few escaped. They have been long since forgotten, after being hunted for almost two decades, and killed off, until it was concluded that they were finally extinct. Hugh hid among tribes of barbarians to survive. The tribe was good to him, making him one of their own. He had built a life of simplicity. Some warring between other tribes would often end with them being brutalized and then integrated. Hugh had found love in a woman taken from one of the defeated tribes. He had a few sons and lived very happily with her, until they were set upon by a purge of the "savages". Hugh's tribe was wiped out and he was orphaned once again. He had brutally killed all the "civilized" army he could, but it was too late. His tribe was all gone, along with his family. He became a wanderer, and left to find life as a mercenary. In that life, he found an adventure awaiting him in a tavern. The tavern was filled with life, when he came in and joined up with a questing group. There he met a gypsy woman by the name of Sana. He got to know her going on this random little adventure with this party. It was all rather simple and jovial at first, until they were all taken captive by a lich. This lich tried to take Sana from them, and in that moment Hugh only felt desperation and rage. He had slowly begun to realize that he had fallen in love with Sana, and that if he lost her nothing would change about his existence as a wandering mercenary, and he would simply keep losing people he deeply cared about. So he took a chance at love, and broke out of his cage in a fit of rage. He fought like a lion to get to Sana, finally winning out(love triumphs over all!) against the hordes of undead after his party came to his aid. Since then, he's been a contented old soul, taking care of Sana and showing her his love for her, even though he has never said the words.

Dans un mouvement rapide, l'appendice brillant du sorcier a tiré de derrière lui, s'est agrandi lui-même, prenant la tête de la bête la repoussant. Les épées ont profité du décalage du monstre, ce qui l'a fait perdre sa position, et ont rapidement coupé les mitaines du monstre en souches charnues qui se détachent de ses poignets. Pendant ce temps, le sorcier a été relevé du poids du monstre. Melvus a fait un pas en arrière rapidement positionné son bâton touchant le torse charnu de la bête. Entre les grandes omoplates du monstre, ils ont tiré une lance de lumière pure qui s'est brisée dans beaucoup de lances plus petites, ils ont heurté le mur à l'autre bout de la caverne et ont disparu. Le monstre est tombé au sol froid de la grotte, mort. Le travail impliquait de revenir avec l'un de ses crocs, il déchauffa son épée et commença à trancher. Une trentaine de minutes après la disparition du monstre, Melvus sortit de la grotte avec une main sur les yeux, étouffant la luminosité de la journée. Il était parti quelques heures plus tôt. Son cheval était toujours en place, il ne connaissait pas son nom, il l'avait emprunté au village. Le sien était toujours là, ils avaient offert un cheval pour l'utiliser pendant le travail. Il monta après avoir délié la bête et commença à descendre la montagne jusqu'au village. Il n'a pas fallu beaucoup de temps pour retourner au village. C'était un village de montagne après tout, bien qu'il n'était pas aussi haut que la caverne était. Il est entré et a été accueilli par les regards des villageois. Il n'avait pas réalisé, il n'était pas trempé mais il avait une quantité notable de sang sur son manteau. Il ne s'était pas rendu compte que les épées avaient pulvérisé une bonne quantité de liquide, de rouge et de séchage. Peu importe, ils savent ce que j'ai fait... dommage cependant, il n'y avait rien là-bas - c'était pour rien... » Il a présenté le fang au chef religieux du village qui l'a indemnisé. Alors qu'il sortait de l'église, il n'aimait pas trop les églises - il les voyait comme des endroits où les gens allaient avant leur décès dans une tentative de gagner la faveur avec leur dieu afin qu'ils puissent aller à l'au-delà. Quoi qu'il en soit, alors qu'il quittait l'église, il a pris note d'une affiche près de la porte. L'affectation parlait d'un orphelinat qui avait été frappé par la maladie de la cendre. Je vais m'en servir comme une pause pour tuer des monstres... Incapable de le guérir? C'est à peu près six lieues d'ici... Melvus lava son manteau dans un ruisseau à l'extérieur de la ville puis se mit à se rendre à l'apothécarie d'Anges.

Removed

Le temps passa, lentement mais sûrement assez, et les vagues traces de lumière du soleil levant finirent par fleurir un ciel turquoise complet, avec la boule de lumière lointaine grimpant toujours plus haut. Le moine lui a donné une bonne idée de l'endroit où se trouvait la plus grande partie de la ville - il n'y avait pas grand chose à voir au-delà de l'église, de son apothicaire, d'une auberge et de quelques magasins de marché. Alors que l'activité éclatait dans le village, beaucoup de gens se levant et environ, Hanzo a pris un signal pour aller à l'apothécaire maintenant, comme il n'y aurait aucun doute qu'il y aurait déjà quelques patrons qui cherchent à obtenir sur l'offre. Il avait tout à fait raison à ce sujet, au moins. Alors que Hanzo ouvrit soigneusement la porte, une petite cloche au-dessus de lui retentit dans une clameur presque joviale, et quelques visages à l'intérieur tournèrent pour regarder le nouveau venu. Le moine pouvait voir qu'un petit groupe, mais apparent, était encore réuni, une sœur aînée leur témoignant - et aussi, il semblait y avoir quelques autres personnes en dehors se dirigeant vers l'apothécaire. Hanzo s'est laissé entrer après un moment de courte durée de réflexion pour accrocher la porte ouverte pour les autres nouveaux arrivants. Pour qui était déjà présent, l'offre d'emploi semblait avoir surtout attiré des mercenaires, semble-t-il. Les deux humains « moyens », un homme et une femme, étaient vêtus d'engins et d'armures d'aventuriers de base, d'armes visibles en leur possession. L'homme, cependant, semblait être en deuxième position soit lui-même de l'opération ici, quelque chose que la dame a balayé. Les deux autres regardaient pour se couvrir de manteaux, bien qu'ils étaient particulièrement séparés à la différence des humains. Ils étaient entourés d'un homme qui avait une voix dure et lisse, et qui était très certain d'étrangler son manteau à son sujet. Peut-être qu'il n'était pas habitué au temps plus froid - mais puis à nouveau, Hanzo pouvait presque sentir quelque chose d'autre avec lui. L'autre dame, cependant, était distinctement elfique dans son regard (d'après ce que Hanzo pouvait observer) et semblait rendre sa sainte présence plus apparente. Hanzo plié les bras à sa taille, avant un petit arc et un clin d'œil. "J'étais dans la région quand j'ai entendu parler de cette épidémie de maladie du cidre - mais je n'imaginais pas que beaucoup de gens accepteraient cette demande", a noté doucement Hanzo, prenant une autre lueur à la porte comme il l'a fait dans l'espérance d'un plus grand nombre de patrons entrant. En se retournant rapidement, il a ajouté : « J'espère que ma propre offre de service n'est pas malvenue pour vous tous. »

Name: Mortosh Celjust and Zam Mano Age: last time he counted 696 (Zam is 200 a kid by her races standard) Alignment: Chaotic Good (Zam is Neutral Good) Race: undead but more specifically a Skeleton (Zam is a Petal For more information on those look for them on page 120 of monster manual III) Class: Cleric (Zam doesn’t really have a class as she is supposed to act as an item much like boo from Baldur’s gate) Appearance/Clothing: Mortosh wears an enchanted blue hood that obscures his entire face making appear as a black void with blue lights wear his eyes should be this is to hide his skull. He wears an iron chest plate with iron gauntlets his legs are hidden by a long blue skirt and iron boots (Zam’s Skin is light blue her hair is a darker shade of blue her bang cover her eyes she wares gray cloth dress her wings are the same color as her skin) Skills: For Mortosh it is Hide Diplomacy Knowledge (religion) Survival Heal ( For Zam it is Bluff and Gather Information Knowledge (nature) as Zam doesn’t actually have class I decided that it would be op to give her any more skills Natural Abilities: Undead-Life: as an undead you are immune to age effects and disease. Unbreakable: An undead has no death ticks. Undead appetite: The Undead are able to use the undead appetite encounter power. (Zam) Lullaby: Any creature within a 20-foot-radius that fails a DC 14 Will save is affected as though by a lullaby spell. A creature that successfully saves cannot be affected again by that petal’s lullaby song for 24 hours. The save DC is Charisma-based. Magic/Spells: Remove Fear: Suppresses fear or gives +4 on saves against fear for one subject + one per four levels Create Food and Water: Feeds three humans (or one horse)/level. Bless: Allies gain +1 on attack rolls and saves against fear Calming Embrace: By placing his hands on friends, or foes restores Mortosh will restore a bit of health as calm down bersekers Insect Plague: Locust swarms attack creatures (Zam) Chatter: A spell created by Zam And Mortosh To allow Zam to speak for Mortosh Calm Emotions: Calms creatures, negating emotion effects Light: Object shines like a torch lie. Additional Information: he is a cleric of Trew Barton The god of joy and undeath. The lack of a lower jaw makes it hard to speak so Zam usually translate for him she also sits on his shoulder. Mortosh sometimes will be overwhelmed with greed causing him steal without thought this has caused him to land into a whole heap of trouble in the past. Weapons: A Simple mace (Zam Like most of her race doesn’t carry a lethal weapons but she dose carry a blow gun which she uses to shoot darts laced with sleeping powder she doesn’t use this very often due to the ingredients used in the sleeping powder are quite rare) Possessions: Mortosh Carries a shrunken zombie around his neck (Zam Owns Shinobue a Side blown flute) Mortosh has a jar full of flower that he carries around for Zam he carries it around for so she doesn't faint from hot or thick air EDIT: Three vials of Moderate Inflict Wounds Personality: Mortosh is a very friendly Skeleton he is calm and hard to anger but his years of lacking the capability of speech has damaged his social skills quite badly which can make him come off as insensitive. while he is perfectly of take on offensive role he dose fell uncomfortable hurting others be they man or beast but he will not complain if fighting is necessary.(Zam is quite battle hungry once again by her races standard anyway she can’t really stand the thought of staying in one place to long she also has obsession with sugar give her some and shell be your friend for life ironically this is not the reason way she follows Mortosh) History: 696 Years ago Mortosh rose from his grave no memory of his past life the only thing he remembered was his cleric training Mortosh spent a good chunk of his first fifty years searching for his past to no avail Realizing that trying to search for a past that he no idea about or even the reason why he was searching so he gave up on searching and decided to just travel why? He didn’t know back then but now he know he was looking for purpose and he found it when he encountered a necromancer and a follower of Trew. He spoke to Mortosh and told him about Trew. Mortosh was intrigued with Trew so asked the necromancer how he could show his loyalties to Trew and the necromancer handed him the shrunken head. Confused Mortosh asked the necromancer about the head and he told him that the head was the symbol of Trew then he requested that Mortosh would spread the massage of Trew. Mortosh accept the his request but before he went he realized one thing. He would be run out of any village or town before he even toke his first step so asked the necromancer to enchant his hood so it would only show a void. So The necromancer enchanted Mortosh’s hood so with his enchanted hood on Mortosh thank the necromancer and went on his to spread the word of Trew and that how he spend his next two hundred years spreading the word that was until he angered a zealous paladin who broke his jaw to pieces. With no jaw all his words came out as mumbling so not being able to spread the word he turned to learning healing magic so he spent the next hundred years learning. this was around the time that Zam was Born two hundred years ago Zam was. Born in to a tribe of petals a race of tiny fey creatures she was treated well enough but she was still an outcast among her race she wasn’t as talented in art as the rest of her race. So she turned to other thing like spellcraft this is what taught her to speak all other tongues she would later encounter Mortosh when he would save her from a plague walker. Mortosh Seeing that Zam had gotten hurt would go on to heal all her wounds. Grateful for his deed Zam asked him what she could do for him. Mortosh lowered his hood and showed her his lack of lower jaw and he needed someone to speak for him as she was the only one that understood what he was saying she agreed and they have been traveling ever since

Sana Sana regarda Hugh et se mit à râler son commentaire sur la cruauté envers les animaux avec un sourire qui grincait les lèvres. Il a de la chance qu'il n'est pas le petit déjeuner, elle a dit d'une voix coy comme elle était assise là et l'a regardé comme il s'habillait, laissant un sifflet bas comme elle l'a fait. Elle a apprécié ces petits moments qu'ils ont pu voler tout au long de la journée; encore plus maintenant sachant qu'une fois qu'ils ont commencé avec une autre fête d'aventure, leur temps seul serait coupé à presque rien. En rampant la tête en arrière alors qu'il venait vers elle, elle se leva un sourcil et soupira joyeusement pendant qu'il baisait son front, sa main s'approchant et courant le long de son bras. D'accord, je serai bientôt descendue, dit-elle alors qu'il s'éloignait et commençait à se diriger vers la sortie. Comme il l'a fait, elle se leva et laissa tomber le drap pendant qu'elle la retourna vers lui et rassembla ses affaires pour s'habiller. Sana, contrairement à Hugh, préférait une approche plus naturelle quand il s'agissait de dormir, du moins quand elle savait que ce ne serait que les deux. Glançant sur son épaule, elle un sourire du Cheshire grattait ses lèvres alors qu'elle secouait les hanches avec gaieté avant de se dépêcher de s'habiller. Le temps était trop froid pour sa tenue habituelle, alors elle a opté pour certains articles qu'elle avait ramassés dans leurs voyages récents; tirer sur quelques leggings modérément épais et pâles avant de glisser sa chemise lâche de la même couleur et du même matériau sur sa tête; tirer et attacher les lacets. Après quoi elle a glissé sur une jupe courte et sombre, tuant la chemise dans la ceinture. Glissant ses bottes, elle les a lancées avant de faire de même avec son corset et ses bretelles; ramassant rapidement son manteau plus épais et le draguant sur ses épaules. Prenant un moment, elle a mouillé ses cheveux légèrement et a couru un peigne à travers elle avant d'attraper le reste de son équipement et de sortir de la porte. En marchant vers Hugh, elle a mis un doux baiser sur sa joue. Je vais voir ce qu'il se passe avec cette notice, elle a dit rapidement alors qu'elle lançait son carquois de flèches argentées sur son dos et fixait son deuxième ensemble à sa taille. Elle ajouta alors qu'elle s'éloignait de l'auberge et qu'elle lui lançait l'étrave sur l'épaule comme avant de tirer le capot de son manteau. La boutique d'apothécaires Wylsen sourit aux nouveaux venus alors qu'ils commencèrent à entrer et les dirigea vers Soeur Agnes qui était plus que ravie de voir des gens commencer à se montrer ; un sourire éclatant croisant ses vieilles caractéristiques alors qu'elle tendait la main à chacun à son tour pour le secouer doucement. Elle se moquait de leur âge, de ce qu'ils portaient ou de ce à quoi ils ressemblaient. Ils étaient là pour aider les enfants dont elle s'occupait si profondément, de sorte que quoi qu'il en soit, ils étaient une bénédiction dans ses yeux. Merci beaucoup d'être venu. Je commençais à m'inquiéter qu'on n'ait peut-être personne à se présenter," elle a dit comme elle les a accueillis. Elle était sur le point de continuer alors que le doux chant de la cloche au-dessus de la porte sonnait de nouveau et qu'une femme marchait dans la porte, le capot de son manteau couvrant son visage. Les seules choses vraiment montrant était un carquois de flèches d'argent et un arc qui étaient évidemment elfiques fait. Retirant le capot de son manteau et repoussant son manteau sur ses épaules révélant qu'elle n'était qu'un elfe. Sana en a sauté le cou alors qu'elle regardait ceux qui s'étaient déjà rassemblés. Espérons que je ne sois pas en retard pour la fête,, elle a dit alors qu'elle fermait la porte derrière elle et marchait en avant. Soeur Agnès secoua la tête et exprima à Sana le même salut qu'elle avait les autres et qu'elle se réintroduit. Sana sourit et secoua la main des vieilles religieuses. "Sana Rawn, marraine, à votre service, ma sœur. Toutes mes excuses si je suis en retard, je suis arrivé tard hier soir et la ville a été fermée. Alors a pris un peu de sommeil avant de me rendre ici de l'auberge. Ma compagne se joindra à moi aussi sur ce point," elle a dit comme elle a baissé sa main de la secousse. "Compagnon"? Une autre soeur Agnes s'est renseignée. Oui, un autre, y a-t-il un problème? La sœur s'est encore ébranlée la tête. Non, pas du tout, je suis juste parti de la pensée qu'il n'y aurait personne pour aider à voir tant et maintenant mot d'un autre. Ça met ce vieux cœur au repos, a-t-elle dit. Sana riait un peu. Alors, dites-nous, sœur, qu'est-ce qui se passe? » Sana demanda alors qu'elle traversait les bras au-dessus de sa poitrine. Eh bien, nous avons eu une épidémie de maladie du cidre qui ne répond pas aux remèdes habituels et nous avons désespérément besoin d'aide pour rassembler ce que nous espérons pouvoir être utilisé pour créer un véritable remède. Nous avons déjà perdu un enfant tristement, nous espérons ne plus perdre, a dit Agnes comme elle soupirait avec remords. Sana secoua la tête en se tenant là. Elle a demandé et Wylsen est sorti de derrière le comptoir et a commencé à distribuer les parchemins avec la liste des articles dont ils auraient besoin. Il se lisait comme suit. Aile des yeux Plume de Pegasus Griffe d'Hellhound Whisky de Gnoll Sang de Mist Dragon Ce n'est pas la liste complète qui vous intéresse, mais ce qui n'est pas répertorié ici que nous avons déjà. Ces articles, il y a un peu plus difficile à trouver, a dit Wylsen en remettant les feuilles au groupe. Soeur Agnès a l'air nerveuse comme il l'a fait. "Wow.... ok," Sana a dit passer en revue le document. Je peux voir pourquoi vous avez besoin d'un groupe. Les gnolls ne sont vraiment pas un problème, mais le reste pourrait s'avérer problématique, a dit Sana honnêtement. Il ne s'agissait pas d'objets courants provenant de créatures communes. Elles étaient rares, très rares. Pendant toutes ses années d'aventure, elle n'avait traversé que la moitié de ce qui était sur la liste. « Vous ne pouvez pas le faire? » Soeur Agnès demanda d'une voix découragée qui fit légèrement rougir Sana. Maintenant je n'ai pas dit que Soeur,,, elle a dit avec un sourire doux et la sœur a laissé sortir un souffle soulagée.

Name: Hanzo Jibero Age: 26 Alignment: Lawful Neutral Race: Human Class: Monk Appearance/Clothing: Skills: Acrobatics Survival Historical & Religious Knowledge Climbing & Swimming Perception Emotion Reading Ki Manipulation Martial Arts, Grappling, & Throwing Natural Abilities: Has honed his body to its upper limits in durability and reflexes, and learned to how manipulate his Ki (spiritual energy); otherwise, he possesses no special abilities of note for a human. Magic/Spells: Ki Strike - A focused attack bolstered through Ki. Grants a chance for normal damage to penetrate armor and natural resistances. Can be charged for a slightly greater chance. Ki Blast - Hanzo channels Ki into his hands to throw out a bolt of raw energy that travels a short distance. Functions as a basic magical attack with a chance to penetrate physical armor (akin to Ki Strike), but must be charged to yield the proper effect initially. Ki Mending - A monk's own 'lay on hands' technique using Ki. Restores a bit of health and fights magical impurities. Additional Information: This monk hails from an old culture that bears worship to the spirit of nature, rather than any specific god. They bless the sun and the moon for giving them light, and the earth and its bounty for giving them life. A somewhat nomadic culture, these monks rarely established buildings or relics for anything beyond shelter, aiming to preserve nature as best as they could. This culture took up martial arts and the art of Ki manipulation as a means of defensing oneself without resorting to weapons or lethality, and to hone one's body and spirit to its greatest potential. Life was simple and peaceful, yet active and fulfilling. They took what they needed from nature and kindly returned what they did not, blessing all creatures that lost their lives as fulfilling a greater purpose. For Hanzo, this has since changed somewhat. Where he once could've wandered without ever getting lost, he now struggles to find a purpose in this new reality revealed to him. He has long since gotten over the culture shock of the developing world, however, and still finds himself traveling about, benefiting others where he sees fit. The wonder still remains, however, and the monk can't help but wish for a sign to reveal his own destiny. Equipment: Hanzo possesses no weapons besides his fists, but does wear a small medium of protective gear: leather bracers on his forearms and legs, and a belt with magical properties that reinforces his natural durability. Possessions: Something of a miser, Hanzo carries little gear or money on his person. He is always seens with his monk's clothing (see above), as well as a waterskin, a crest of his clan, and a ring of prayer beads. Should the need arise, the sash he wears can be improvised as a ten-foot rope. Personality: By nature, Hanzo is a respectful individual, treating others with kindness when he can see they deserve it. Through his experiences, however, the monk has learned to only really trust those he has discovered as righteous at heart, even if not always purely good. As such, he comes and goes in his travels, not often staying to maintain friendships but still holding them at heart. Getting to know Hanzo and sympathize with him can turn the monk into a faithful ally, even beyond an initial partnership. As a result of his less fortunate experiences, Hanzo bears a stern sense of justice, and is quite willing to help others in desperate need (for better or worse, at times). He tends to be straightforward, but also cautious and logical - not below fighting others to reach a solution, but wise enough to seek an alternate method. As a part of his vowing of respect as a monk, Hanzo will never willingly kill a fellow human/elf/etc, but when pitted against the 'inhumane' (monstrous creatures and truly sinful individuals) he will not share that grace. History: Hanzo was born naturally within a nomadic tribe of monks. As a youth, he was eager to learn their ways and trained hard to better himself. He found himself fitting in well with the culture, benefiting greatly from its teachings and giving him a fairly fulfilling life, at the time. Of course, some things have a tendency to change so very suddenly. As Hanzo's generation was beginning to reach their coming of adulthood, one girl was suddenly outcast from the monks in what had to be a first in their history. She had always been something of a quiet loner, but what put her off the edge was her possession and obsession with a unique steel knife abandoned in the forest. Though Hanzo was somewhat regretful of her suffering this fate, as he was one of the few people to show her kindness, he was ultimately made to pay it no mind. Disaster struck, however, when but a few moons later, the girl returned in the accompany of a legion of violent warriors. She had discovered that the knife was of their craft, and immediately became absorbed into their vastly differing knowledge. When she weaved a tale of being isolated and betrayed by her primitive family and clan, the battle-bred warriors were empowered to aid her in revenge. So began the crusade against Hanzo's clan, a long night of fire beneath a bloody moon. As fear and panic settled in, a still-young Hanzo was desperately urged to flee, even as family and friends alike were quickly slaughtered under the warriors' powerful weapons. Under the shadow of the forest, Hanzo managed to evade the clan's new enemies, and believed himself to be a solitary survivor. But while the fires still remained in sight, Hanzo was suddenly confronted by the girl, bloody knife in hand. Though she had initially spared Hanzo for the kinship he had offered, the murderer claimed to have dicovered a new way of life, driven by a far more powerful emotion: wrath. Seeing the monk feel his own brand of wrath, she offered him another chance, to channel and release this rage the only way she knew how. Hanzo refused, deciding she had more than lost her mind, and attempted to fight her in his anger. Their tango was brief but brutal, put to a painful end when the murderer was knocked headfirst into a collapse of burning branches, blinding her. He only regrets not having learned her name. The time following was harsh to Hanzo, not because he could not survive but because he had nobody else to survive with. He was alone, his family, friends, and culture all mercilessly slaughtered. Hanzo's outlook changed - it had to, if he was going to truly live any longer. The monk began to wander the world again, a world that seemed to so vastly change overnight, as he passed through many towns, kingdoms, and nations. He would help others as he deemed without compensation, all the while hoping to find some new sense of purpose as she had.

Mortosh s'asseyait à une table que Zam s'asseyait devant lui et munchait sur son cube de sucre promis, mais il regardait au plafond (« Nous faisons vraiment cela? » Ne sommes-nous pas Zam") Zam Arrêtez brièvement de grignoter son cube et de regarder Mortosh dans la confusion "de quoi parlez-vous de Mortosh?" il a arrêté de fixer le plafond regardé vers le bas de la pétale et a dit ("Ce Zam tout ce soin de cette éclosion et dans le processus où nous allons sauver les enfants de ce village ce tout juste son si ludique et ici nous sommes un mort Clerc et un pétale") Zam vient de hoched en accord "ça fait quand vous le mentionnez" Elle a pris une morsure rapide de son cube avant qu'elle continue "Mais on fait ça tout le temps" Mortosh Nodded ("Mais habituellement, on fait juste affaire avec une seule personne mais maintenant on sauve presque un village entier") Mortosh a donné une non-existence Soupir "Pouvez-vous me dire pourquoi la femme elfique vous dérange" ("Alors vous avez remarqué mon malaise a fait vous? Mais pour répondre à votre question elle A Cleric") "Comment savez-vous cela?" (« C'est le motif sur sa robe, c'est qu'elle est un clerc »), il regarda la femme en question qui s'occupait de parler à un homme et à une femme (« Mais elle n'est pas un disciple de Trew ») « Si je gardais un œil sur elle » Mortosh Shook sa tête (« Non si nous étions montrés méfiants n'importe qui de notre foi alors nous ne serions pas ici juste retourner à votre cube »)

Name: Mortosh Celjust and Zam Mano Age: last time he counted 696 (Zam is 200 a kid by her races standard) Alignment: Chaotic Good (Zam is Neutral Good) Race: undead but more specifically a Skeleton (Zam is a Petal For more information on those look for them on page 120 of monster manual III) Class: Cleric (Zam doesn’t really have a class as she is supposed to act as an item much like boo from Baldur’s gate) Appearance/Clothing: Mortosh wears an enchanted blue hood that obscures his entire face making appear as a black void with blue lights wear his eyes should be this is to hide his skull. He wears an iron chest plate with iron gauntlets his legs are hidden by a long blue skirt and iron boots (Zam’s Skin is light blue her hair is a darker shade of blue her bang cover her eyes she wares gray cloth dress her wings are the same color as her skin) Skills: For Mortosh it is Hide Diplomacy Knowledge (religion) Survival Heal ( For Zam it is Bluff and Gather Information Knowledge (nature) as Zam doesn’t actually have class I decided that it would be op to give her any more skills Natural Abilities: Undead-Life: as an undead you are immune to age effects and disease. Unbreakable: An undead has no death ticks. Undead appetite: The Undead are able to use the undead appetite encounter power. (Zam) Lullaby: Any creature within a 20-foot-radius that fails a DC 14 Will save is affected as though by a lullaby spell. A creature that successfully saves cannot be affected again by that petal’s lullaby song for 24 hours. The save DC is Charisma-based. Magic/Spells: Remove Fear: Suppresses fear or gives +4 on saves against fear for one subject + one per four levels Create Food and Water: Feeds three humans (or one horse)/level. Bless: Allies gain +1 on attack rolls and saves against fear Calming Embrace: By placing his hands on friends, or foes restores Mortosh will restore a bit of health as calm down bersekers Insect Plague: Locust swarms attack creatures (Zam) Chatter: A spell created by Zam And Mortosh To allow Zam to speak for Mortosh Calm Emotions: Calms creatures, negating emotion effects Light: Object shines like a torch lie. Additional Information: he is a cleric of Trew Barton The god of joy and undeath. The lack of a lower jaw makes it hard to speak so Zam usually translate for him she also sits on his shoulder. Mortosh sometimes will be overwhelmed with greed causing him steal without thought this has caused him to land into a whole heap of trouble in the past. Weapons: A Simple mace (Zam Like most of her race doesn’t carry a lethal weapons but she dose carry a blow gun which she uses to shoot darts laced with sleeping powder she doesn’t use this very often due to the ingredients used in the sleeping powder are quite rare) Possessions: Mortosh Carries a shrunken zombie around his neck (Zam Owns Shinobue a Side blown flute) Mortosh has a jar full of flower that he carries around for Zam he carries it around for so she doesn't faint from hot or thick air EDIT: Three vials of Moderate Inflict Wounds Personality: Mortosh is a very friendly Skeleton he is calm and hard to anger but his years of lacking the capability of speech has damaged his social skills quite badly which can make him come off as insensitive. while he is perfectly of take on offensive role he dose fell uncomfortable hurting others be they man or beast but he will not complain if fighting is necessary.(Zam is quite battle hungry once again by her races standard anyway she can’t really stand the thought of staying in one place to long she also has obsession with sugar give her some and shell be your friend for life ironically this is not the reason way she follows Mortosh) History: 696 Years ago Mortosh rose from his grave no memory of his past life the only thing he remembered was his cleric training Mortosh spent a good chunk of his first fifty years searching for his past to no avail Realizing that trying to search for a past that he no idea about or even the reason why he was searching so he gave up on searching and decided to just travel why? He didn’t know back then but now he know he was looking for purpose and he found it when he encountered a necromancer and a follower of Trew. He spoke to Mortosh and told him about Trew. Mortosh was intrigued with Trew so asked the necromancer how he could show his loyalties to Trew and the necromancer handed him the shrunken head. Confused Mortosh asked the necromancer about the head and he told him that the head was the symbol of Trew then he requested that Mortosh would spread the massage of Trew. Mortosh accept the his request but before he went he realized one thing. He would be run out of any village or town before he even toke his first step so asked the necromancer to enchant his hood so it would only show a void. So The necromancer enchanted Mortosh’s hood so with his enchanted hood on Mortosh thank the necromancer and went on his to spread the word of Trew and that how he spend his next two hundred years spreading the word that was until he angered a zealous paladin who broke his jaw to pieces. With no jaw all his words came out as mumbling so not being able to spread the word he turned to learning healing magic so he spent the next hundred years learning. this was around the time that Zam was Born two hundred years ago Zam was. Born in to a tribe of petals a race of tiny fey creatures she was treated well enough but she was still an outcast among her race she wasn’t as talented in art as the rest of her race. So she turned to other thing like spellcraft this is what taught her to speak all other tongues she would later encounter Mortosh when he would save her from a plague walker. Mortosh Seeing that Zam had gotten hurt would go on to heal all her wounds. Grateful for his deed Zam asked him what she could do for him. Mortosh lowered his hood and showed her his lack of lower jaw and he needed someone to speak for him as she was the only one that understood what he was saying she agreed and they have been traveling ever since

Depuis que Melvus avait quitté la montagne et fait des progrès vers la boutique d'Apothicaire, le soleil s'était déjà couché sur le monde, rendant l'obscurité totale. Seule la zone de torche occasionnelle de la route était visible. Une quantité incroyable de grillons étaient audibles. Devant le cheval il y avait un bras brillant, Melvus avait pensé utiliser son bras des cieux comme source de lumière. Les sabots de son cheval se fermaient alors qu'ils s'en allaient. C'est... Je me souviens pourquoi j'ai commencé à utiliser la magie basée sur le ciel... Il y a 14 ans, Melvus avait dix-sept ans. C'est à cette époque que toute sa famille et son village avaient mystérieusement disparu. Après un court moment, il a trouvé du travail avec la faction Aesil dans la ville voisine, Drisbane. Ils avaient connu une guerre civile et avec la famille royale morte, sauf une petite fille - la princesse Efrida - la ville était dans le chaos. Les quatre factions, Goetia, The Guardians, Palace et Aesil, s'étaient battues pour le pouvoir. Ils avaient convenu que les escarmouches étaient trop dangereuses pour les citoyens. Ils ont tenu une sur une ou deux sur deux batailles à la place, batailles entre les champions de chaque faction. Melvus avait rejoint l'Aesil, aussi connu comme les descendants des Anges. Melvus ne s'en souciait pas beaucoup, mais il l'a utilisé comme un temps pour apprendre. Pendant ce temps, il a appris trois sorts spécifiques d'un sorcier plus âgé au sein de la faction d'Esil. Ces sorts étaient la roue du ciel, le bras du ciel et la pluie de lumière. Ils ont tous été correctement thématiques. Il avait également appris quelques sorts par lui-même, Ethereal Wings a été appris d'un livre. Il s'est souvenu de tout le temps qu'il était tombé et a cassé quelque chose avant de pouvoir contrôler son vol. Il a également appris la défléction à partir d'un livre. Melvus a remarqué que le soleil avait brisé l'obscurité en se levant sur l'horizon. C'est des rayons majestueux qui déchirent l'obscurité de la nuit, autrefois accablante. Le bruit de criquets est mort et son bras brillant s'est dissipé. Il pouvait voir la ville. Il n'avait pas de murs et le seul bâtiment notable de cette vue était l'église, sa flèche semblait gratter les cieux. Ce n'était pas si grand que ça. Il n'a pas fallu longtemps à Melvus pour trouver la boutique dont l'affiche avait parlé. Il a tourné la poignée de porte et comme il a poussé la porte en bois, il a remarqué un chant de porte. A l'intérieur il y avait beaucoup de gens, ils avaient des listes dans la main et une femme plus âgée avait parlé, elle ressemblait à une nonne. "Je ne suis pas trop en retard pour ça je suis?" Sa voix chuchotait autant qu'il tenait l'affiche qu'il avait vue dans l'église.

Removed

C'était mauvais. Tobias avait réussi à prendre position contre un mur regardant la porte, le plus facile à voir ceux qui sont entrés. Et il n'aimait pas ce qu'il voyait. D'abord, la femme à capuche qui était là avant lui et Fiona. Elle sentait étrange, comme les bois, et son manteau était couvert de rosée. Avec les pommettes hautes, il a réussi à lui faire comprendre qu'elle était un elfe - il aurait besoin de voir ses oreilles avant d'en être sûr, cependant. Ce n'était pas ce qui l'avait effrayé, mais ce qui l'avait effrayé, c'était le regard qu'il lui avait donné. N'importe qui d'autre l'aurait regardée et aurait vu une beauté ravissante - Tobias, cependant, était une vieille main pour tailler les gens, et ses yeux étaient immédiatement attirés sur la toile de cicatrices couvrant son visage en lignes minces. Elle n'était pas quelqu'un avec qui s'amuser. Ensuite, le "wizard" à la peau rouge avec la queue barbelée. Qu'y avait-il à dire de lui en plus de ce qu'il avait chuchoté à Fiona quand l'homme avait fini son introduction? "Fiona. Des démons. Démons polis." Alors, l'homme chauve. Ce type avait une tête rasée, portait des vêtements bizarres que Tobias ne pouvait même pas décrire, et était complètement déchiré. Soit c'était un culte démoniaque, soit pire, une sorte de... C'était quoi ce mot déjà? Monk? Ça n'avait pas l'air bien. Peu importe. L'arrivée la plus récente a été la meilleure. Une femme, bronzée et belle, avec un arc recourbé sur son épaule. Au premier coup d'oeil, il voyait beaucoup à aimer et rien à se méfier - il devrait essayer plus tard. Oh, la vieille femme parlait. Tobias aurait dû l'écouter, mais il avait trop pensé à ses futurs compagnons. Alors que la nonne passait les parchemins, Tobias en accepta un et commença à le scanner immédiatement. Un petit gémissement s'échappa de sa bouche en lisant les mots. "Est-ce que c'est littéral? Comme, comme, est, "Blood of Mist Dragon" genre, une fleur ou, ou voulez-vous dire qu'il ya comme, littéralement une chose appelée un Dragon Mist et vous avez besoin de son sang?" Tobias frotta le dos de son cou comme un nouveau venu entra dans la pièce, portant un bâton et portant une sorte de robe. Sorcier. Génial. "Uh, question complémentaire. Combien exactement sommes-nous payés?"

Name: Tobias Age: 22 Alignment: Chaotic Good-ish Race: Human Class: Thief Appearance/Clothing: Skills: Bluff, Acrobatics, Charm, Athletics, Sneak, Theft, Streetwise, Knife-Wielding, Knife-Throwing. Natural Abilities: The power of average-ness. Magic/Spells: Not a scrap of it. Additional Information: Tobias isn't the strongest fighter, being far more suited to running, hiding, or bluffing his way out of situations (he's capable by normal person standards, of course - just not really what you'd expect from an adventurer). He's also a massive pathological liar with trust issues a mile wide. Weapons: He has three knives - one on his belt, one on his back, and one in his boot. Possessions: Leather armor, basic adventuring supplies (rope, flint and steel, etc.). His hood is enchanted to make it very hard for someone who sees him with it up to remember his face. He also has a magic grappling hook enchanted to not make a sound. Personality: Tobias is glib, smart-alecky, cowardly, and tries his absolute best to be self-centered. Though he'd feverishly deny it, he's a fundamentally good person underneath the assumed selfish. He tries not to let anyone get close to him, and often uses snark and flat out lies as armor in social interaction. History: Getting the truth out of him about his personal history is extraordinarily difficult, but it's possible to determine that he's an orphan who grew up on the streets and has spent his life so far living in cities and alternating between pickpocket, con-man and cat burglar in order to survive. Also, hai Kronshi. Funny meeting you again. :p

Le froid drizzak du petit matin ne semblait pas affecter la figure courte émergeant de la ligne d'arbres au moment de son entrée dans le village. L'activité qui commençait à se produire dans la colonie semblait s'arrêter légèrement à mesure que la figure passait, vêtue de cachette et ce qui semblait être la peau d'un ours, avec des pattes pour un manteau et une tête pour une capuche. La figure sous cette hotte a été ombragée, visage incapable d'être vu à l'exception d'une caractéristique de stand-out. La figure souriait. C'était souriant. Plus large et plus large qu'il tirait le morceau frustré de parchemin de sous son manteau et l'amenait à son visage. L'avis du couvent des Sœurs de Lumière. Il n'a fallu qu'un moment pour que le capot tombe et révèle les longues oreilles, les crocs déchiquetés et les yeux lumineux d'un gobelin plutôt étrange. Il semblait danser de pied en pied quand il regardait autour de lui. Drizzak était sorti, de retour dans le monde. Il roulait une fois de plus dans la nature. Il était temps pour l'aventure, pour la gloire, pour le combat et pour lui de faire sa marque sur le monde. Et quelle marque il ferait. En fouillant le journal, il tourna en rond pour regarder le village. Les yeux de villageois effrayés et confus sont tombés sur lui alors qu'il commençait à s'écraser. Pour ridiculiser alors qu'il regardait autour de lui sa première destination. L'Apothicaire. La maison de la guérison et du sort des boissons. Il ressentait un désir étrange alors qu'il fouettait les petites substances chimiques sur le vent. Comme un lapin, il s'est barré à la porte et l'a poussé à l'ouverture avec un grand huff. La lumière du soleil derrière lui lui a donné l'impression d'être une figure qui mérite d'être revue. Presque comme s'il était préordiné pour être quelque chose de fantastique. Le gobelin se tenait dans la lumière, riant follement alors qu'il vérifiait le fouet à sa hanche, et l'épée à son autre. Il était temps de reprendre le volant. Le carnage commencerait bientôt, comme son histoire. Il n'avait besoin que de trouver cette 'Sœur Agnès', et avec une écorce shrill, il parlait. "Où est l'EGNESSE DE LA SIÈGE?"

Name: Drizzak. Age: Goblin equivalent of 20. Alignment: Chaotic Good. Race: Goblin. Class: Fighter. Skills: Simple/Martial/Exotic Weaponry, Intimidation, Taunting, Hiding, Survival, Climbing, Swimming and he's alright at just screaming at things or in a certain direction. Natural Abilities: Fast Movement, Dexterity Boost, Darkvision. Magic/Spells: None. Additional Information: He will always go for the biggest target. No matter how big. Weapons: A kris-like shortsword in one hand and a scorpion whip in the other. His most prized possessions. Possessions: Fur vestments and hide armor. Personality: Drizzak is, for the most part, extremely friendly and positive, bordering on naive. If one were to attribute an overall alignment to him, it could easy be Chaotic Good. He can be extreme at times, but his heart is in the right place for the most part. His extremism comes from his tendency to be easily excited. He tends to see all other races as different sizes of Goblin. History: Drizzak does not speak much about his past. Its obvious from the way that he avoids questioning about it that his departure from his family and clan was not an easy thing for him. If one was knowledgable enough, they would be able to find the skin-mark on his neck in the shape of an angry goblin skull and crossbones, meaning 'exile'.

Fiona s'était positionnée avec son dos au mur à côté de Tobias, et s'est trouvée soudainement heureuse qu'elle ait eu quelqu'un qu'elle connaissait au moins pour entrer dans cette affaire. Elle s'attendait à ce que d'autres prennent l'appel pour ce travail, mais pas autant. Ils étaient de nombreuses variétés différentes; pas mal d'autres humains, mais aussi quelques races moins communes, dont certaines qu'elle n'avait tout simplement jamais vues auparavant, n'ayant quitté son coin isolé du monde qu'il y a quelques années. Il suffisait de la faire se sentir un peu petite, étant l'aventurier débutante du groupe. Accrochez ses pouces sous sa ceinture, elle écoutait l'inquiétude de Tobias, résistant à l'envie de retourner les yeux. "Au moins, ils sont tous de notre côté. Nous travaillons ensemble là-dedans, n'oubliez pas? » Après s'être vu remettre la liste des matériaux, elle a étudié les ingrédients qu'on lui demandait de recueillir et s'est soudainement réjouie de l'expérience d'une entreprise. Fiona n'avait même pas entendu parler de la plupart d'entre eux, et savait moins où les trouver. Certes, certains des autres étaient des herboristes dans une certaine mesure, ou plus expérimentés avec cela. Son rôle allait clairement être une protection sur le chemin de ces choses, et toutes les batailles qui étaient nécessaires pour les collecter réellement. « Pensez-y de cette façon, Tobias, lui dit-elle. « Puisque nous sommes tous une équipe, personne ne devrait avoir à faire quoi que ce soit qu'ils ne soient pas équipés. Personne ne vous demandera de combattre des dragons pour nous." Elle a baissé la voix pour s'assurer que seul il l'entendrait. "Mais regardez ce groupe. Et si quelqu'un que nous rencontrons a besoin d'être persuadé de quelque chose? La plupart d'entre eux n'ont pas l'air du genre sociable pour moi. Vous pourriez être vraiment précieux pour nous." Elle sourit légèrement, espérant peut-être le rassurer. Voleur ou non, il était déjà ami, et Fiona a aimé l'idée d'avoir un ami pour cela. "Je suis Fiona, au fait," dit-elle au groupe en général. "Si nous faisons des présentations."

Name: Fiona Age: 22 Alignment: Neutral Good Race: Human Class: Fighter Appearance/Clothing: Reference 1, Reference 2. Fairly average height, with a lean and toned build. Fiery, wild red hair and light brown eyes, skin tone a fair, slightly pale coloration. Skills: Close combat fighting, speed and agility, moderate strength, excellent horseback riding skills. Proficient both armed and unarmed, moderate endurance for taking hits. Good at cooking with relatively little to work with, and while likely irrelevant, good at farming. Natural Abilities: None - Human Magic/Spells: None Armor: Roughly as seen in the image, some pieces of scavenged light plate, most effectively protecting her right arm. Weapons: Use reference 2 for example. A fairly standard curved longsword, lightweight but sturdy. She has a dagger sheathed on her left thigh for emergencies. Possessions: Little of note. Her clothes, weapons, armor, packs, supplies, basic medical items and personal belongings. Most of it kept in her horse's saddlebags. Personality: Fiona's bold and brash, often unafraid of things she probably should be, and in general a very confident and self-assured individual. Like any good adventurer she is both curious and brave, but also deeply selfless, not preferring to use the word 'mercenary' to describe herself, as this implies the coin is the end goal she works for. Mostly she just enjoys her life for what it is: a chance to explore, meet new people and see new things, and help wherever she can, with what skill she has. Though typically a loner, she doesn't turn down help when offered, and tries to work together with others as best she can. She's an inexperienced, terrible liar, preferring both her combat and her conversation upfront and uncomplicated. History: Fiona's story is a relatively simple one, starting with a family not important enough to even have a lasting name. She's simply Fiona, of the village of Drayden, a little farming community quite a ways from many large population centers. Fiona was an only child, and thus assisted a great deal around the farm, becoming strong and physically active as a result. Wandering adventurers inspired her even as a teenage girl, and her mind would not be swayed from eventually leaving the family farm to see the world. When they were eventually able to hire some help, she used what coin she had to purchase some basic equipment, and set out at age 19, blade in hand, hunting for contracts. Naturally, without the best of training or a good starting foundation of equipment and knowledge, Fiona struggled in her first few years, but learned from her mistakes, and has developed into a competent and even confident fighter, willing and able to take on problems the average person doesn't want to deal with.

Eh bien, tout le bâillon des personnages était arrivé depuis que Vaeri avait parlé au clergé. Un grand homme qui s'est présenté comme un sorcier entraîné, un homme bizarrement habillé avec une tête rasée, un squelette avec une fleur vivante poussant à l'intérieur, et une femme humaine bronzée portant des flèches elfiques. Vaeri était presque certaine qu'elle ne pouvait pas faire confiance à tout le monde ici, mais pour l'instant elle est restée silencieuse. Doucement pour garder autant de son corps caché dans le manteau, le clerc prit le document qui lui fut donné. Dès qu'elle a fini de regarder la note, sa main a glissé sous le manteau. Vaeri était sur le point de commenter la surprenante liste d'ingrédients nécessaires (elle ne savait pas ce qu'était un Dragon Mist, mais elle n'aurait pas aimé que son sang soit pris) quand la porte s'ouvrit à nouveau, cette fois à un humain vêtu de robes savantes portant un bâton avec un bijou sur le dessus. Il était probablement un orthographe d'une sorte. Peut-être un autre magicien. Cette ligne de pensée a été coupée par un autre entrant, une petite chose verte avec un sourire méchant exigeant de savoir où était "Lady Eggness". Il portait sur sa personne un fouet et un couteau exotique incurvé. C'était plutôt inoffensif. C'est alors que la première femme humaine qui était entrée dans la boutique s'est présentée. Eh bien, c'était poli de suivre. "Je suis Vaeri Dryearurdrenn, heureux de faire votre connaissance."

Name: Vaeri Dryearurdrenn Age: 143 Alignment: Lawful Good Race: Elf Class: Cleric/Barbarian Appearance/Clothing: Vaeri is an innocent looking elf, standing at about 5' 7" (170 cm) with long, straight raven hair that extends down to the base of her back, pale skin and bright blue eyes. At a glance she's quite beautiful with full lips, a small button nose, thin eyebrows and high cheekbones, when one takes a closer look, several tiny scars are visible all over, disfiguring her otherwise graceful looks. Likewise, Vaeri's exposed flesh, the rare times one can see them initially appear smooth and untouched, but upon closer inspection are covered in scars and barely contain wiry muscle below. Vaeri dresses as a lady of the cloth should, with a dark blue full body cloak. The fabric is adorned with intricate patterns in white to provide visual contrast and indicating her status as a clergywoman. Around her neck and outside the cloak, Vaeri wears a necklace bearing the holy symbol of her god. However, underneath the cloak is a full set of leather armor, battle ready and kept in top shape at all times. Skills: Sense Motive, Knowledge (Religion), Knowledge (Nature), Climb, Jump, Sleight of Hand, fletching arrows, surviving out in the wild Natural Abilities: Keen senses, the ability to see better than humans in low light Magic/Spells: Heal: can decide how good this is Tongues: Allows the caster to speak any language for the duration of the spell Turn Undead: Vaeri can attempt to make Undead flee from her presence temporarily. Powerful Undead can resist this. Divine Might: Holy power infuses the caster, temporarily making them more powerful and resilient Flame Strike: Smites foes with holy flames Additional Information: Vaeri worships Menhit, lion-goddess of War. (Fun fact her name means She who massacres) Weapons: Vaeri carries a shortbow and a two-handed battleaxe Possessions: Vaeri carries a backpack that can hold more than you think it would and what Vaeri wants from the bag will always be at the top (the item in question must have been put in the bag beforehand for this to work). Inside the bag are her necessities (tent, rope, bedroll, tarp for the tent, soap, cooking utensils, oil, a lamp, flint and steel), holy texts, and about 2 weeks worth of rations. She also has a coin purse with about 20 gold pieces in it. On her hip is a quiver with 20 arrows. Personality: To strangers, Vaeri appears to be a gentle elf, always keen to help those in need and be a travelling force of good in the world. However, as you get to know her, slowly she morphs into an entirely different person, brash, head-strong and a braggart, this true face of Vaeri shows exactly why she worships the goddess she does. The elf loves battle of all kinds and will gleefully jump into battle whenever she can. History: Vaeri grew up in a forest village mostly populated by other elves to a carpenter. IN her childhood, she began learning the bow as all children did. Her prowess with weaponry was admired just as much as her excessive enthusiasm for using them was worrying. One day while out hunting alone she was overcome by a vision of the lion-goddess Menhit who commanded Vaeri to go out into the world and find a man with two right hands. After this experience, Vaeri began following the goddess of war and has dedicated her life to this mission. The cleric has been following this notice for strong adventurers as a possible lead for locating this mysterious man.

La boutique d'apothécaires Sana a jeté un coup d'œil sur son épaule alors qu'une autre entrait et pénétrait un sourcil, ce qui s'est avéré être un groupe plutôt intéressant, mais elle avait eu affaire à beaucoup plus étrange dans le passé, même dans le passé récent. Au moins, il semblait que personne n'était un Lich. Elle pourrait en être reconnaissante. Soeur Agnès sourit au nouveau venu et secoua la tête. « Pas du tout, » dit-elle rapidement que Wylsen est passé à la nouvelle addition et lui a remis un morceau de parchemin avec la liste des articles dont ils avaient besoin. Nous pouvons utiliser toute l'aide que nous pouvons obtenir dans cette matière il semble,, elle a ajouté, comme elle a regardé autour. Quand Tobias a demandé au sujet du sang du dragon, Sana s'est tourné pour regarder dans sa direction et a hurlé. C'est un dragon dont ils parlent et dont ils ont besoin de son sang, a-t-elle dit avant de retourner en arrière et de regarder vers la sœur comme Tobias a demandé au sujet du paiement. La nonne a pris un souffle et est passée au comptoir avant de les affronter. Les sœurs de mon couvent m'ont seulement donné l'ordre d'en tirer la parole. Le paiement sera grand et rare, mais malheureusement c'est tout ce que je suis libre de dire en ce moment. Je suis désolé, mais elle a dit qu'elle avait l'air un peu nerveuse. Sana a légèrement hurlé en se tenant là. Vous ne nous connaissez pas et n'avez aucune idée si nous pourrions voler le couvent aveugle sans recueillir les objets si nous avons eu la chance? Eh bien... Oui, elle a admis. Sana a hurlé, sa suspicion a confirmé et elle a tenu la main. Je comprends, ça n'a pas d'importance de toute façon. Je suis dedans et mon compagnon sera aussi, a dit Sana d'une voix rassurante. Le regard de la nervosité tomba des traits des sœurs et elle laissa un soupir de soulagement. Merci beaucoup, elle a dit alors qu'elle s'approchait et secouait la main de Sanas. Sana s'est un peu ridiculisée. Quoi, est-ce que je vais dire non à une religieuse quand il s'agit d'essayer d'aider les enfants à ne pas mourir? Pas vraiment une option. Je doute que je puisse dormir la nuit si je m'éloignais," elle a dit avant d'être coupée alors qu'elle entendait le chant de la cloche une fois de plus et puis soudain elle semblait geler à sa place avec son dos à la porte alors qu'elle entendait quelqu'un demander Soeur-Lady Eggness. Son visage ayant un regard étrangement confus sur elle, elle tourna lentement la tête; un sourcil se levant brusquement alors que ses yeux s'élargissaient, voyant enfin la créature qui parlait. "Sainte merde," elle a dit avant que sa main vole vers sa bouche et elle regarde la nonne. Désolé, elle a dit par embarras avant de retourner son attention à la petite. Elle appela alors qu'elle marchait vers lui et se coucha à un genou. Comment ça? Pourquoi? Eh bien, je vais être damné! » s'écria-t-elle. Je n'ai jamais pensé que je te verrais si loin au nord, qu'elle a ajouté avant que le regard sur son visage ne devienne encore plus confus. Où est votre cape? Elle a demandé quand elle a incliné la tête sur le côté. La nonne s'est avancée et a dégagé sa gorge légèrement ce qui a attiré l'attention de Sanas et elle s'est levée à la position debout. Tu le connais? Elle a demandé rapidement d'un ton nerveux. Sana sourit alors qu'elle hurlait la tête. Oui. Nous avons voyagé ensemble une fois, a-t-elle dit avant d'expliquer davantage. J'ai été une fois presque sacrifié par un Lich, il était l'un de ceux qui m'ont sauvée, Elle a dit d'un ton reconnaissant alors qu'elle regardait en arrière vers celui qu'elle appelait Drizzak. Et ce Drizzak, c'est Soeur Agnes que vous cherchez, a-t-elle dit alors qu'elle se déplaçait vers la nonne. "Je vois," la nonne a dit alors qu'elle marchait et tenait sa main à Drizzak pour secouer le sien. "Plaisir de vous rencontrer," elle a ajouté que Wylsen marchait et tenait un morceau de parchemin avec la liste des articles dont ils avaient besoin. "Drizzak, on dirait qu'il faut trouver un dragon," dit Sana avec un chanfrein avant de regarder en arrière vers la sœur. Est-ce qu'il y a d'autres informations dont nous avons besoin ou des fournitures que vous fournirez? En fait, non. Je suis désolé, mais notre couvent a commencé, mais Sana a tenu la main et a hurlé. Elle m'a dit avant de passer à Wylsen. J'aurai besoin de flacons, de bouteilles et de bouchons pour tenir les articles, assez pour que chaque membre de la partie collecte chaque article et quelques-uns à épargner juste au cas où, a-t-elle dit. L'homme a hurlé et est allé recueillir ce dont ils auraient besoin. "Um, Sana était-ce?" la nonne a demandé. - Oui? - Elle l'a dit en regardant. Je, eh bien le couvent ne peut pas payer pour cela.. "Je l'ai eu," Sana a déclaré à plat comme elle a tiré une flèche d'argent de son carquois et l'a placé sur le comptoir. Elle a dit que Wylsen revenait avec une caisse de ce que Sana avait demandé et secouait la tête. Celui-ci est sur moi, il a dit avec un sourire sur son visage quand il a ramassé la flèche et l'a remis à Sana. Sana a hurlé alors qu'elle lançait la flèche dans son carquois et a recueilli ce dont elle et Hugh auraient besoin avant de se retourner sur ses talons. Merci, elle a dit alors qu'elle se dirigeait vers la porte avant de s'adresser au groupe. Vous divisez tous le reste des articles qui restent entre vous et je suggère que nous mangeons tous avant de partir. N'hésitez pas à me rejoindre à l'auberge, a-t-elle dit avant de regarder Drizzak. "Vous devriez venir à, Big Brut Pally Hugh est là-bas attendant," elle a dit avec un rire avant de pousser sa sortie de la porte avec ses articles et se promener vers l'auberge pour trouver Hugh, lui faire savoir ce qui se passait et pour obtenir quelque chose à manger. En faisant son chemin vers l'auberge, elle poussa la porte ouverte et regarda légèrement autour; cherchant Hugh alors qu'elle poussait vers l'avant et marchait pleinement dans l'auberge elle-même.

Name: Hanzo Jibero Age: 26 Alignment: Lawful Neutral Race: Human Class: Monk Appearance/Clothing: Skills: Acrobatics Survival Historical & Religious Knowledge Climbing & Swimming Perception Emotion Reading Ki Manipulation Martial Arts, Grappling, & Throwing Natural Abilities: Has honed his body to its upper limits in durability and reflexes, and learned to how manipulate his Ki (spiritual energy); otherwise, he possesses no special abilities of note for a human. Magic/Spells: Ki Strike - A focused attack bolstered through Ki. Grants a chance for normal damage to penetrate armor and natural resistances. Can be charged for a slightly greater chance. Ki Blast - Hanzo channels Ki into his hands to throw out a bolt of raw energy that travels a short distance. Functions as a basic magical attack with a chance to penetrate physical armor (akin to Ki Strike), but must be charged to yield the proper effect initially. Ki Mending - A monk's own 'lay on hands' technique using Ki. Restores a bit of health and fights magical impurities. Additional Information: This monk hails from an old culture that bears worship to the spirit of nature, rather than any specific god. They bless the sun and the moon for giving them light, and the earth and its bounty for giving them life. A somewhat nomadic culture, these monks rarely established buildings or relics for anything beyond shelter, aiming to preserve nature as best as they could. This culture took up martial arts and the art of Ki manipulation as a means of defensing oneself without resorting to weapons or lethality, and to hone one's body and spirit to its greatest potential. Life was simple and peaceful, yet active and fulfilling. They took what they needed from nature and kindly returned what they did not, blessing all creatures that lost their lives as fulfilling a greater purpose. For Hanzo, this has since changed somewhat. Where he once could've wandered without ever getting lost, he now struggles to find a purpose in this new reality revealed to him. He has long since gotten over the culture shock of the developing world, however, and still finds himself traveling about, benefiting others where he sees fit. The wonder still remains, however, and the monk can't help but wish for a sign to reveal his own destiny. Equipment: Hanzo possesses no weapons besides his fists, but does wear a small medium of protective gear: leather bracers on his forearms and legs, and a belt with magical properties that reinforces his natural durability. Possessions: Something of a miser, Hanzo carries little gear or money on his person. He is always seens with his monk's clothing (see above), as well as a waterskin, a crest of his clan, and a ring of prayer beads. Should the need arise, the sash he wears can be improvised as a ten-foot rope. Personality: By nature, Hanzo is a respectful individual, treating others with kindness when he can see they deserve it. Through his experiences, however, the monk has learned to only really trust those he has discovered as righteous at heart, even if not always purely good. As such, he comes and goes in his travels, not often staying to maintain friendships but still holding them at heart. Getting to know Hanzo and sympathize with him can turn the monk into a faithful ally, even beyond an initial partnership. As a result of his less fortunate experiences, Hanzo bears a stern sense of justice, and is quite willing to help others in desperate need (for better or worse, at times). He tends to be straightforward, but also cautious and logical - not below fighting others to reach a solution, but wise enough to seek an alternate method. As a part of his vowing of respect as a monk, Hanzo will never willingly kill a fellow human/elf/etc, but when pitted against the 'inhumane' (monstrous creatures and truly sinful individuals) he will not share that grace. History: Hanzo was born naturally within a nomadic tribe of monks. As a youth, he was eager to learn their ways and trained hard to better himself. He found himself fitting in well with the culture, benefiting greatly from its teachings and giving him a fairly fulfilling life, at the time. Of course, some things have a tendency to change so very suddenly. As Hanzo's generation was beginning to reach their coming of adulthood, one girl was suddenly outcast from the monks in what had to be a first in their history. She had always been something of a quiet loner, but what put her off the edge was her possession and obsession with a unique steel knife abandoned in the forest. Though Hanzo was somewhat regretful of her suffering this fate, as he was one of the few people to show her kindness, he was ultimately made to pay it no mind. Disaster struck, however, when but a few moons later, the girl returned in the accompany of a legion of violent warriors. She had discovered that the knife was of their craft, and immediately became absorbed into their vastly differing knowledge. When she weaved a tale of being isolated and betrayed by her primitive family and clan, the battle-bred warriors were empowered to aid her in revenge. So began the crusade against Hanzo's clan, a long night of fire beneath a bloody moon. As fear and panic settled in, a still-young Hanzo was desperately urged to flee, even as family and friends alike were quickly slaughtered under the warriors' powerful weapons. Under the shadow of the forest, Hanzo managed to evade the clan's new enemies, and believed himself to be a solitary survivor. But while the fires still remained in sight, Hanzo was suddenly confronted by the girl, bloody knife in hand. Though she had initially spared Hanzo for the kinship he had offered, the murderer claimed to have dicovered a new way of life, driven by a far more powerful emotion: wrath. Seeing the monk feel his own brand of wrath, she offered him another chance, to channel and release this rage the only way she knew how. Hanzo refused, deciding she had more than lost her mind, and attempted to fight her in his anger. Their tango was brief but brutal, put to a painful end when the murderer was knocked headfirst into a collapse of burning branches, blinding her. He only regrets not having learned her name. The time following was harsh to Hanzo, not because he could not survive but because he had nobody else to survive with. He was alone, his family, friends, and culture all mercilessly slaughtered. Hanzo's outlook changed - it had to, if he was going to truly live any longer. The monk began to wander the world again, a world that seemed to so vastly change overnight, as he passed through many towns, kingdoms, and nations. He would help others as he deemed without compensation, all the while hoping to find some new sense of purpose as she had.

Il s'est avéré que Melvus n'était pas trop tard, mais il a attiré un peu d'attention. Après lui, ce qui semblait être un goblin péniche en criant à propos d'un Œuf de Dame-Sœur. L'une des autres aventures maudit rapidement puis excusa le petit garçon. Le sorcier s'est mis de côté pour ça. Après s'être rendu compte que la créature n'était pas un danger, Anges, la religieuse, s'avança et secoua la main. Melvus a noté qu'elle n'avait pas secoué le sien. La larme des yeux. Procurer ce sera un défi. Melvus en a déjà vu une, elle a été farcie pour décorer. Ils avaient aussi besoin de trouver un pegasus, un hellhound, un gnoll, et ce qui semblait être l'élément le plus excitant de la liste, un dragon brumeux. C'était plutôt rare... et plutôt dangereux. Le dragon de la brume, seul, pourrait facilement les noyer s'ils ne sont pas prudents. Melvus a pris ses objets du comptoir, du flacon, du liège et d'autres objets similaires. Il a fait son chemin de la porte, la lumière du soleil une fois de plus le faisant couvrir ses yeux. Sana, la femme qui semble prendre les commandes a suggéré qu'ils mangent avant de partir. Melvus aussi bien que c'était une bonne idée, il n'avait pas mangé depuis la veille. Poussant la porte à l'auberge ouverte, il fut accueilli avec l'odeur de bière, de vin et d'autres boissons alcoolisées. Il y avait aussi l'odeur de la nourriture fraîchement cuite, il a fait pousser son estomac. Il acheta de la nourriture au comptoir, prit place à une table au milieu de l'auberge et se mit à manger son petit déjeuner. Pendant qu'il mangeait, il a remarqué une odeur plutôt désagréable. Je me suis baigné tout à l'heure... Je vais devoir la laver avant qu'on parte. Il s'est rendu compte que c'était la raison pour laquelle il avait attiré tant d'attention.

Removed

Voir Le départ de la Femme a apporté la pensée de Mortosh à l'autre personnage de la Boutique qui allait bientôt devenir son camarade d'armes la femme elfique qui s'est présentée comme Vaeri toujours dérangé il était quelque chose sur son apparence si ce n'est que c'était le fait qu'elle était une clerc la plupart de ses rencontres avec d'autres clercs ont toujours mal fini pour lui. les deux autres où un duo étrange peut-être même plus étrange alors lui et Zam. Peut-être que tout son malaise de la femme elfique n'était pas justifié peut-être qu'il soulagerait ses nerfs de non-existence s'il où se présenter correctement à eux ("Que pensez-vous Zam devrions-nous introduire notre soi?") Zam Qui semblait ignorer sa question venait de terminer son cube de sucre et Zam était donc allongée sur la table avec un sourire satisfait Mortosh juste éclaboussé à la vue ("Avez-vous apprécié votre Cube Zam? Zam a hurlé alors qu'elle se leva et regarda le vide où se trouvait le visage de Mortosh. "Tu sais ce que Mort je pense qu'on devrait faire ça" il regardait ("Alors tu as écouté!!!) s'exclama Mortosh d'une manière fausse et dramatique, Zam répondit de la même manière : « Bien sûr, pourquoi ne penseriez-vous jamais à peu de moi que juste cruel Morty!!! » Elle a dit qu'en posant de façon dramatique enfin Nether pourrait plus de l'un à l'autre antiques et juste la perdre. après avoir eu calme Mortosh a demandé à Zam il devrait vraiment le faire dans lequel elle a demandé s'il allait les ignorer pendant toute cette quête. Mortosh s'est levé de son siège et Zam a volé dans son trou caché sur l'épaule de Mortosh il a commencé à s'approcher du groupe Il s'est arrêté devant eux Et Zam a volé hors de son trou et a dit "bonjour je suis Zam et ce Mortosh" qui a seulement agité sur eux

Name: Mortosh Celjust and Zam Mano Age: last time he counted 696 (Zam is 200 a kid by her races standard) Alignment: Chaotic Good (Zam is Neutral Good) Race: undead but more specifically a Skeleton (Zam is a Petal For more information on those look for them on page 120 of monster manual III) Class: Cleric (Zam doesn’t really have a class as she is supposed to act as an item much like boo from Baldur’s gate) Appearance/Clothing: Mortosh wears an enchanted blue hood that obscures his entire face making appear as a black void with blue lights wear his eyes should be this is to hide his skull. He wears an iron chest plate with iron gauntlets his legs are hidden by a long blue skirt and iron boots (Zam’s Skin is light blue her hair is a darker shade of blue her bang cover her eyes she wares gray cloth dress her wings are the same color as her skin) Skills: For Mortosh it is Hide Diplomacy Knowledge (religion) Survival Heal ( For Zam it is Bluff and Gather Information Knowledge (nature) as Zam doesn’t actually have class I decided that it would be op to give her any more skills Natural Abilities: Undead-Life: as an undead you are immune to age effects and disease. Unbreakable: An undead has no death ticks. Undead appetite: The Undead are able to use the undead appetite encounter power. (Zam) Lullaby: Any creature within a 20-foot-radius that fails a DC 14 Will save is affected as though by a lullaby spell. A creature that successfully saves cannot be affected again by that petal’s lullaby song for 24 hours. The save DC is Charisma-based. Magic/Spells: Remove Fear: Suppresses fear or gives +4 on saves against fear for one subject + one per four levels Create Food and Water: Feeds three humans (or one horse)/level. Bless: Allies gain +1 on attack rolls and saves against fear Calming Embrace: By placing his hands on friends, or foes restores Mortosh will restore a bit of health as calm down bersekers Insect Plague: Locust swarms attack creatures (Zam) Chatter: A spell created by Zam And Mortosh To allow Zam to speak for Mortosh Calm Emotions: Calms creatures, negating emotion effects Light: Object shines like a torch lie. Additional Information: he is a cleric of Trew Barton The god of joy and undeath. The lack of a lower jaw makes it hard to speak so Zam usually translate for him she also sits on his shoulder. Mortosh sometimes will be overwhelmed with greed causing him steal without thought this has caused him to land into a whole heap of trouble in the past. Weapons: A Simple mace (Zam Like most of her race doesn’t carry a lethal weapons but she dose carry a blow gun which she uses to shoot darts laced with sleeping powder she doesn’t use this very often due to the ingredients used in the sleeping powder are quite rare) Possessions: Mortosh Carries a shrunken zombie around his neck (Zam Owns Shinobue a Side blown flute) Mortosh has a jar full of flower that he carries around for Zam he carries it around for so she doesn't faint from hot or thick air EDIT: Three vials of Moderate Inflict Wounds Personality: Mortosh is a very friendly Skeleton he is calm and hard to anger but his years of lacking the capability of speech has damaged his social skills quite badly which can make him come off as insensitive. while he is perfectly of take on offensive role he dose fell uncomfortable hurting others be they man or beast but he will not complain if fighting is necessary.(Zam is quite battle hungry once again by her races standard anyway she can’t really stand the thought of staying in one place to long she also has obsession with sugar give her some and shell be your friend for life ironically this is not the reason way she follows Mortosh) History: 696 Years ago Mortosh rose from his grave no memory of his past life the only thing he remembered was his cleric training Mortosh spent a good chunk of his first fifty years searching for his past to no avail Realizing that trying to search for a past that he no idea about or even the reason why he was searching so he gave up on searching and decided to just travel why? He didn’t know back then but now he know he was looking for purpose and he found it when he encountered a necromancer and a follower of Trew. He spoke to Mortosh and told him about Trew. Mortosh was intrigued with Trew so asked the necromancer how he could show his loyalties to Trew and the necromancer handed him the shrunken head. Confused Mortosh asked the necromancer about the head and he told him that the head was the symbol of Trew then he requested that Mortosh would spread the massage of Trew. Mortosh accept the his request but before he went he realized one thing. He would be run out of any village or town before he even toke his first step so asked the necromancer to enchant his hood so it would only show a void. So The necromancer enchanted Mortosh’s hood so with his enchanted hood on Mortosh thank the necromancer and went on his to spread the word of Trew and that how he spend his next two hundred years spreading the word that was until he angered a zealous paladin who broke his jaw to pieces. With no jaw all his words came out as mumbling so not being able to spread the word he turned to learning healing magic so he spent the next hundred years learning. this was around the time that Zam was Born two hundred years ago Zam was. Born in to a tribe of petals a race of tiny fey creatures she was treated well enough but she was still an outcast among her race she wasn’t as talented in art as the rest of her race. So she turned to other thing like spellcraft this is what taught her to speak all other tongues she would later encounter Mortosh when he would save her from a plague walker. Mortosh Seeing that Zam had gotten hurt would go on to heal all her wounds. Grateful for his deed Zam asked him what she could do for him. Mortosh lowered his hood and showed her his lack of lower jaw and he needed someone to speak for him as she was the only one that understood what he was saying she agreed and they have been traveling ever since

Hugh entendit le léger bruit de tissu grimpant sur le sol, il tourna la tête pour voir un Sana beaucoup moins vêtue secouant les hanches. Il s'arrêta et se pencha contre la porte, son corps se retourna à mi-chemin vers elle, donnant un soupir content alors qu'il la regardait s'habiller. Il a eu un sourire plutôt stupide sur son visage, comme son esprit semblait courir sauvage avec ses pensées d'elle dans ses bras et les deux d'entre eux appréciant quelque chose de bon ensemble. Avec le petit baiser sur sa joue, il se sentait un peu comme un enfant. Il se tenait loin de la porte alors qu'elle descendait, lui faisant connaître ses intentions avant de partir. "D'accord, je serai en bas, alors, à ton retour." Il a dit, comme elle s'est enfuie par la porte. Il courut ses doigts à travers ses cheveux et sortit, sa pipe et son tabac dans sa main. Il y avait probablement un peu de feu en bas qu'il pouvait utiliser pour allumer sa pipe, donc il n'avait pas besoin de l'ancien arc de friction et de la serviette. Il descendit les escaliers et se dirigea vers le quartier principal de l'auberge. Son arrivée au comptoir principal a été accueillie par l'hôte de l'auberge, qui l'a invité à s'asseoir. Hugh obtint ensuite l'hôte et lui demanda ce qu'ils servaient pour le petit déjeuner ce jour-là, et leur demanda d'en faire sortir deux assiettes. "Et deux tasses de café!" Il a fini, grincheusement. À la recherche d'un instant, il choisit une table située entre un pilier en bois et une fenêtre donnant sur la rue. "Prends-le là-bas!" Il a dit, en pointant vers la table. L'hôte a hurlé et Hugh a fait sa sortie du comptoir vers le foyer. Il sortit à la feuille de tabac, la roula, et la rapprocha des charbons qui étaient au bord du foyer. Il n'a eu besoin que de quelques secondes avant qu'il ne s'allume et il l'a coincé dans sa pipe, en empilant une autre feuille après. Ce processus a ensuite été suivi par lui soufflant dessus jusqu'à ce qu'il a donné lieu à des panaches solides de fumée, ce qui rend la pièce un peu plus trouble puis il avait été avant. Il a commencé à inhaler et à l'exhaler lentement et subtilement, afin de ne pas commencer à l'étouffer. Après son départ satisfaisant, il s'est dirigé vers la table qu'il avait choisie plus tôt et a pris place. Hugh se retourna tout simplement dans sa chaise, et mit ses pieds sur la chaise à côté de lui, appréciant le tabac qu'il avait. C'était particulièrement agréable, car il y avait si peu de clients à l'auberge à cette heure de la journée. Il pouvait profiter de la paix et du silence d'une boutique vide. Il a été interrompu par le bruit des portes qui s'ouvraient et se fermaient, captant l'attention de Hugh. L'un de ses sourcils montait et l'autre regardait vers la porte pour voir qui était entré. Il était soulagé de voir que c'était Sana et son visage semblait s'éclaircir, surtout avec la nouvelle présence d'un sourire dessus. Il se tint debout et leva la main, lâchant vers elle. Il avait l'air d'un grand garçon alors qu'il l'a agitée avec enthousiasme. "Par ici!" Il a appelé.

Name: Hugh Van Halder Age: 45 Alignment: Neutral Good Race: Human Class: Fighter, Ex-Paladin Appearance/Clohing: He stands at 6'2", a tower of years of built up muscle. He wears a dark earthen blue tunic over a white linen three button pullover shirt. He wears a pair of black shorts(under his pants) and a pair of dark gray hosen(medieval style pants). He'll wear a chain mail shirt and these pauldrons additionally he'll wear leather knee and shin armor. He wears a small gray hood and a bear fur cloak. Skills: He is a good brawler and can fight with anything he can get his hands on(He's used bed rolls before). Horseback riding. Swordfighting, throwing axes, and two handed weapon fighting. He's been able to use crossbows before, but despises them, as they are delicate and take a lot of work just to reload. Bushcraft and survival stuff. Smoking(if that qualifies as a skill). Some cooking. Natural Abilities: He's strong and durable and can take a lot of beatings. He's pretty much a tank. He can drink a lot of alcohol and only get buzzed. Otherwise, he's just a normal human. Magic Spells: N/A Additional Information: He is in a relationship with Sana Rawn. He has a draft horse, named Rodger. Weapons: He wields a large crude looking battle axe and a falchion. Additionally, he has one small crude throwing axe. Possessions: A rucksack with jerky, bread, cheese, rags, spark rocks(basically one is made of magnesium), rope, ladle, cooking knife, two plates, and tobacco. He also has saddle bags on his horse, which he stores his pipe, more tobacco, sugar cubes, a brush, a stick and bow(which he uses for lighting his pipe), and a few salt licks. He has two water skins. One he keeps on his horse, and one on his person or in rucksack. Additionally he has a pot and a frying pan strapped down to the outside of his rucksack. He also wears a ring on a little chain around his neck and he never seems to take it off, as it was given to him by Sana. Personality: He is a more contented man, liking simple things in life, especially enjoying smoking his pipe with a wonderful scenery, usually in the form of a beautiful day and his love, Sana. He has a more realistic attitude towards the world, not being an idealist, only doing things to help. He has great respect for the natural order of things, and you won't find him trying to seek out revenge. He still has a fiery temper when it is stoked enough to come out. History: Hugh was once part of a great order of paladins. They had much land and ruled with wisdom. Their lands were prosperous and fertile. Many were jealous of their lands, but no one had the courage enough to take on the great and Noble order. Their paladins were fierce and formidable fighters. They all stood higher than 6' and were towers of muscle. They were truly terrifying men. But they were brought down under scandal. Fabricated accusations about them stealing their riches and enslaving other groups of people for labor. The scandals kept growing until they were set upon by every surrounding nation. They stood no chance. Many were killed, only a few escaped. They have been long since forgotten, after being hunted for almost two decades, and killed off, until it was concluded that they were finally extinct. Hugh hid among tribes of barbarians to survive. The tribe was good to him, making him one of their own. He had built a life of simplicity. Some warring between other tribes would often end with them being brutalized and then integrated. Hugh had found love in a woman taken from one of the defeated tribes. He had a few sons and lived very happily with her, until they were set upon by a purge of the "savages". Hugh's tribe was wiped out and he was orphaned once again. He had brutally killed all the "civilized" army he could, but it was too late. His tribe was all gone, along with his family. He became a wanderer, and left to find life as a mercenary. In that life, he found an adventure awaiting him in a tavern. The tavern was filled with life, when he came in and joined up with a questing group. There he met a gypsy woman by the name of Sana. He got to know her going on this random little adventure with this party. It was all rather simple and jovial at first, until they were all taken captive by a lich. This lich tried to take Sana from them, and in that moment Hugh only felt desperation and rage. He had slowly begun to realize that he had fallen in love with Sana, and that if he lost her nothing would change about his existence as a wandering mercenary, and he would simply keep losing people he deeply cared about. So he took a chance at love, and broke out of his cage in a fit of rage. He fought like a lion to get to Sana, finally winning out(love triumphs over all!) against the hordes of undead after his party came to his aid. Since then, he's been a contented old soul, taking care of Sana and showing her his love for her, even though he has never said the words.

Vaeri connaissait les noms de 8 de ses compagnons maintenant. En quelque sorte. Tobias, Zack, Fiona, Sana, Drizzak, quelqu'un nommé Big Brut Pally Hugh, et Mortosh & Zam. Vaeri n'était pas très bonne avec les noms humains, ils avaient tendance à se mélanger dans sa tête, donc elle a assigné un mot à chaque nom qui aiderait à les garder ensemble. La parole de Tobias serait inquiète. Il ne semblait pas être un homme détendu. En fait, il s'inquiétait assez du paiement pour s'enquérir presque immédiatement. Le paiement n'avait même pas traversé l'esprit de l'elfe. La parole de Zack serait grande. Fiona serait écarlate. Vaeri a toujours aimé ce mot plus que "rouge". Rouge était un mot si ennuyeux, et Fiona n'a pas l'air d'être ennuyeux jusqu'à présent. Ainsi, elle serait écarlate, même si elle décrivait ses cheveux mieux que les premiers. La parole de Sana serait boucheuse. Elle a beaucoup parlé au cours des 4 minutes qu'elle avait passées dans le magasin. Drizzak, Mortosh et Zam se sont assez distingués que Vaeri était confiante qu'elle se souviendrait d'eux sans avoir besoin d'avoir un mot clé associé à eux. Big Brut Pally Hugh était certainement assez distinctive pour rester dans sa tête, et elle n'avait pas vraiment vu cette personne ainsi, même s'il y avait besoin d'ajouter sur un mot clé, le clerc n'aurait pas à ajouter. En dehors des noms, Vaeri a pris note de l'homme volé qui est entré, a pris un tas d'articles et ensuite laissé sans un mot à quiconque, le fait qu'ils étaient fournis avec des fioles et des bouchons gratuits de Wyslen et apparemment tout le monde a été invité à l'auberge. Après le départ de l'érudit grossier, elle s'est montée jusqu'à la caisse et a choisi suffisamment de flacons pour se sentir confiante qu'elle en aurait assez pour revenir à l'Apothicaire. "Merci pour votre cadeau, monsieur." Vaeri a dit et a exécuté un petit arc de remerciement à Wyslen. Vaeri s'éloigna du comptoir et ouvrit le sac à la hanche, plaça les flacons vides et les bouchons avant de le refermer à nouveau. Le clerc ouvrit la porte, mais fit ses adieux à ses futurs compagnons de voyage avant de partir. Sana avait suggéré que tout le monde mange avant de partir, mais Vaeri avait déjà mangé le dîner avant d'arriver dans le village, elle n'était pas pressée de manger. Où est-ce que c'était censé entrer?

Name: Vaeri Dryearurdrenn Age: 143 Alignment: Lawful Good Race: Elf Class: Cleric/Barbarian Appearance/Clothing: Vaeri is an innocent looking elf, standing at about 5' 7" (170 cm) with long, straight raven hair that extends down to the base of her back, pale skin and bright blue eyes. At a glance she's quite beautiful with full lips, a small button nose, thin eyebrows and high cheekbones, when one takes a closer look, several tiny scars are visible all over, disfiguring her otherwise graceful looks. Likewise, Vaeri's exposed flesh, the rare times one can see them initially appear smooth and untouched, but upon closer inspection are covered in scars and barely contain wiry muscle below. Vaeri dresses as a lady of the cloth should, with a dark blue full body cloak. The fabric is adorned with intricate patterns in white to provide visual contrast and indicating her status as a clergywoman. Around her neck and outside the cloak, Vaeri wears a necklace bearing the holy symbol of her god. However, underneath the cloak is a full set of leather armor, battle ready and kept in top shape at all times. Skills: Sense Motive, Knowledge (Religion), Knowledge (Nature), Climb, Jump, Sleight of Hand, fletching arrows, surviving out in the wild Natural Abilities: Keen senses, the ability to see better than humans in low light Magic/Spells: Heal: can decide how good this is Tongues: Allows the caster to speak any language for the duration of the spell Turn Undead: Vaeri can attempt to make Undead flee from her presence temporarily. Powerful Undead can resist this. Divine Might: Holy power infuses the caster, temporarily making them more powerful and resilient Flame Strike: Smites foes with holy flames Additional Information: Vaeri worships Menhit, lion-goddess of War. (Fun fact her name means She who massacres) Weapons: Vaeri carries a shortbow and a two-handed battleaxe Possessions: Vaeri carries a backpack that can hold more than you think it would and what Vaeri wants from the bag will always be at the top (the item in question must have been put in the bag beforehand for this to work). Inside the bag are her necessities (tent, rope, bedroll, tarp for the tent, soap, cooking utensils, oil, a lamp, flint and steel), holy texts, and about 2 weeks worth of rations. She also has a coin purse with about 20 gold pieces in it. On her hip is a quiver with 20 arrows. Personality: To strangers, Vaeri appears to be a gentle elf, always keen to help those in need and be a travelling force of good in the world. However, as you get to know her, slowly she morphs into an entirely different person, brash, head-strong and a braggart, this true face of Vaeri shows exactly why she worships the goddess she does. The elf loves battle of all kinds and will gleefully jump into battle whenever she can. History: Vaeri grew up in a forest village mostly populated by other elves to a carpenter. IN her childhood, she began learning the bow as all children did. Her prowess with weaponry was admired just as much as her excessive enthusiasm for using them was worrying. One day while out hunting alone she was overcome by a vision of the lion-goddess Menhit who commanded Vaeri to go out into the world and find a man with two right hands. After this experience, Vaeri began following the goddess of war and has dedicated her life to this mission. The cleric has been following this notice for strong adventurers as a possible lead for locating this mysterious man.

Assez vrai, l'activité ramassée comme quelques autres âmes sont entrées dans le magasin, cherchant à investir dans cette quête. Par les mots fournis par la Soeur, si peu d'autres avaient tenté de prendre ce travail avant qu'ils soient tous arrivés aujourd'hui - une curieuse coïncidence, Hanzo supposé. Néanmoins, le personnel a transmis à chaque client volontaire une liste des ingrédients rares qu'il aurait besoin de trouver, avec l'assurance qu'on leur a fourni tout le reste. ... 'Traitement des yeux'? "Blood of Mist Dragon"? Ce sont en effet des ingrédients exceptionnellement rares à trouver, et au début Hanzo s'est trouvé incapable de comprendre tout à fait quelle sorte de concoction aurait besoin de ces choses. Mais, encore une fois, le moine savait que la maladie de Cendrillon n'était pas exactement une sorte de peste "naturelle", donc peut-être que cela appelait une sorte de remède contre nature. Une des femmes les plus mystérieuses qui étaient arrivées et qui s'étaient fait connaître au sein du groupe a affirmé que ce travail n'était pas impossible. L'homme rougi était beaucoup moins sûr de cela, lui aussi étant particulièrement perplexe sur ces extractions spéciales à obtenir. Et puis la situation s'est tout simplement diversifiée, avec un sorcier éparpillé de sang qui est tout simplement arrivé pour prendre une liste et quelques conteneurs, suivi d'un impish... imp? Non, un goblin, plutôt; quoi qu'il en soit, Sana était certaine qu'elle s'était rencontrée auparavant, apparemment avoir été des compagnons aventuriers dans une croisade passée. Bien sûr, toute l'étrangeté n'a pas empêché le parti qui s'est rapidement formé d'éviter les manières courtoises. Prenant rapidement le signal de l'introduction mystique de Sana, la belle fille aux cheveux cramoisi s'est présentée comme Fiona, déclenchant une chaîne de noms donnés par chaque membre : Tobias était l'homme cynique qui accompagnait Fiona, d'après quelques commentaires directs. Le goblin bruyant était Drizzak, selon un surpris, puis rassuré Sana. La jeune fille elfine dans la robe sainte était Vaeri, comme elle l'a personnellement annoncé. Arrivé tard, il a fallu un peu à Hanzo pour assembler que le grand homme à la peau de feu s'appelait Zack. L'étrange non-mort avec le compagnon encore étranger était Zam, et son compagnon Mortosh - non, attendez, c'était l'inverse. Vraiment? Qui était quoi, là-bas? Il avait perdu la trace dans toute la commotion. Le moine sillonna son visage tout en arrachant sa mémoire pour l'arrangement approprié. Alors que Hanzo tentait de soulager la pression en revendiquant quelques-unes des fioles pour sa possession dans le groupe, Sana s'installa à la sortie, offrant au groupe l'idée de rester à l'auberge locale pour le petit déjeuner. Le moine a roulé sur la perspective dans sa tête, et a décidé qu'il serait approprié d'accepter et de rejoindre. Il est revenu pleinement à la réalité quand Sana a mentionné que "Big Brut Pally Hugh" serait là; peu familier avec son argot et ayant manqué le contexte, Hanzo a tourné un bref regard de puzzle à l'entrée où la gitane était debout, seulement pour la repérer déjà dehors la porte. Il respira un soupir tranquille dans son nez et secoua la tête, quelque peu exaspéré par le tour des événements qui se produisaient. "Quel que soit le groupe que nous avons réuni ici," le voyageur seul a audiblement murmuré. Une dernière chose encore dans son esprit, cependant- "Avant que je m'oublie, vous pouvez m'appeler Hanzo. Je ne suis qu'un moine itinérant qui est arrivé sur ce sort, cherchant à donner toute l'aide que je peux."

Name: Tobias Age: 22 Alignment: Chaotic Good-ish Race: Human Class: Thief Appearance/Clothing: Skills: Bluff, Acrobatics, Charm, Athletics, Sneak, Theft, Streetwise, Knife-Wielding, Knife-Throwing. Natural Abilities: The power of average-ness. Magic/Spells: Not a scrap of it. Additional Information: Tobias isn't the strongest fighter, being far more suited to running, hiding, or bluffing his way out of situations (he's capable by normal person standards, of course - just not really what you'd expect from an adventurer). He's also a massive pathological liar with trust issues a mile wide. Weapons: He has three knives - one on his belt, one on his back, and one in his boot. Possessions: Leather armor, basic adventuring supplies (rope, flint and steel, etc.). His hood is enchanted to make it very hard for someone who sees him with it up to remember his face. He also has a magic grappling hook enchanted to not make a sound. Personality: Tobias is glib, smart-alecky, cowardly, and tries his absolute best to be self-centered. Though he'd feverishly deny it, he's a fundamentally good person underneath the assumed selfish. He tries not to let anyone get close to him, and often uses snark and flat out lies as armor in social interaction. History: Getting the truth out of him about his personal history is extraordinarily difficult, but it's possible to determine that he's an orphan who grew up on the streets and has spent his life so far living in cities and alternating between pickpocket, con-man and cat burglar in order to survive. Also, hai Kronshi. Funny meeting you again. :p

Fiona n'avait jamais vraiment été inquiète. Peut-être qu'il y a une semaine, elle aurait pensé que Tobias l'aurait frappée au premier signe d'ennuis, mais après qu'il n'ait pas pris les premières occasions de s'enfuir, elle a pensé qu'il ne prendrait pas le reste. Et elle pensait honnêtement qu'il serait un ajout précieux au groupe, même s'il n'aide pas beaucoup contre les ennemis qu'ils pourraient affronter. Jusqu'à présent, le groupe ne semblait être que des experts en combat et en magie, et alors qu'elle pensait que certains d'entre eux avaient probablement un charme caché... elle doutait que ce serait le goblin, en tout cas. En s'assurant de prendre sa propre part des fournitures que la nonne avait prévues pour eux, Fiona la remercia et sortit de l'apothécaire derrière Tobias. Le groupe semblait surtout se rendre à l'auberge pour prendre un bon petit déjeuner avant de partir, et Fiona était trop tenté par cela pour résister, il grogne l'estomac en chemin. Elle était prête à parier que l'aubergiste était un peu submergée par tous les invités soudains, dont beaucoup pouvaient probablement manger beaucoup. Après s'être habitué aux maniérismes de Tobias, Fiona a largement ignoré son introduction, et a brièvement fouillé les occupants actuels de l'auberge pour trouver un endroit pour prendre place. En fin de compte, elle a choisi un endroit le plus proche du moine, Hanzo, alors qu'il se présentait, et a pris place, attraper l'entrepreneur quand elle pouvait et commander quelque chose de simple à manger. Elle a dû admettre qu'elle n'avait jamais rencontré un moine aventureux avant, et l'a trouvé intéressant.

Name: Fiona Age: 22 Alignment: Neutral Good Race: Human Class: Fighter Appearance/Clothing: Reference 1, Reference 2. Fairly average height, with a lean and toned build. Fiery, wild red hair and light brown eyes, skin tone a fair, slightly pale coloration. Skills: Close combat fighting, speed and agility, moderate strength, excellent horseback riding skills. Proficient both armed and unarmed, moderate endurance for taking hits. Good at cooking with relatively little to work with, and while likely irrelevant, good at farming. Natural Abilities: None - Human Magic/Spells: None Armor: Roughly as seen in the image, some pieces of scavenged light plate, most effectively protecting her right arm. Weapons: Use reference 2 for example. A fairly standard curved longsword, lightweight but sturdy. She has a dagger sheathed on her left thigh for emergencies. Possessions: Little of note. Her clothes, weapons, armor, packs, supplies, basic medical items and personal belongings. Most of it kept in her horse's saddlebags. Personality: Fiona's bold and brash, often unafraid of things she probably should be, and in general a very confident and self-assured individual. Like any good adventurer she is both curious and brave, but also deeply selfless, not preferring to use the word 'mercenary' to describe herself, as this implies the coin is the end goal she works for. Mostly she just enjoys her life for what it is: a chance to explore, meet new people and see new things, and help wherever she can, with what skill she has. Though typically a loner, she doesn't turn down help when offered, and tries to work together with others as best she can. She's an inexperienced, terrible liar, preferring both her combat and her conversation upfront and uncomplicated. History: Fiona's story is a relatively simple one, starting with a family not important enough to even have a lasting name. She's simply Fiona, of the village of Drayden, a little farming community quite a ways from many large population centers. Fiona was an only child, and thus assisted a great deal around the farm, becoming strong and physically active as a result. Wandering adventurers inspired her even as a teenage girl, and her mind would not be swayed from eventually leaving the family farm to see the world. When they were eventually able to hire some help, she used what coin she had to purchase some basic equipment, and set out at age 19, blade in hand, hunting for contracts. Naturally, without the best of training or a good starting foundation of equipment and knowledge, Fiona struggled in her first few years, but learned from her mistakes, and has developed into a competent and even confident fighter, willing and able to take on problems the average person doesn't want to deal with.

Alors que Zarxire regardait sur la liste, il pensait à tous les livres qu'il lisait. Il savait où trouver tout ça, mais certains seraient presque impossibles. "Hellhound, vous pouvez seulement trouver ceux dans l'avion abyssal de l'enfer. Ces choses sont extrêmement fortes, sans parler des éléments dont nous aurons besoin juste pour ouvrir une faille dimensionnelle pour voyager là-bas et en arrière. » On aurait dit que personne ne lui accordait l'esprit et qu'il suivait tout simplement le groupe jusqu'à l'auberge. Quand il est entré, il a remarqué une montagne d'un homme à peu près aussi grand que Zarxire était mais beaucoup plus musclé. Il n'y a aucun moyen qu'il soit humain. Sur cette note, Zarxire s'assurait que ses cornes étaient couvertes, puis réajustait sa robe pour mieux couvrir sa queue et marchait vers lui. "Bonjour, tu dois être Hugh. Je suis Zack, naturaliste, historien, planiste, comportementaliste et sorcier. J'ai étudié beaucoup de livres sur beaucoup de choses et j'espère que mes connaissances avancées seront d'aide pour trouver ces," Il mains Hugh la liste qu'on lui a donné, "Quelle est la chose rare et intéressante. J'espère qu'on pourra tous les récupérer avant qu'il ne soit trop tard." Zarxire a pris place à la table Hugh était à, en veillant à laisser un espace pour Sana pour s'asseoir à côté de lui. "Pour ceux qui sont venus après que je me suis présenté, je suis Zack, un magicien formé qui espère se faire un nom. J'ai hâte de travailler avec vous tous. » Il a regardé le groupe bizarre qui s'est réuni après son arrivée. Surtout des humains, mais il y a un elfe, un gobelin, un squelette et une petite fée que je n'ai jamais vue auparavant, peut-être que c'est dans l'un de mes livres que j'ai amené avec moi. Zarxire a fait sortir son livre sur les monstres exotiques et rares et s'en est emparé, à la plupart il semblerait qu'il cherchait les créatures sur la liste des recettes, mais il essayait vraiment de trouver la fée.

Name: Zarxire Age: 44, but due to Tieflings aging slower he appears 31 Alignment: Neutral Good Race: Tiefling Class: Pyromancer Appearance/Clothing: Except with the typical Tiefling horns and tail Skills: Intimidate, Knowledge (Arcana), Knowledge (Geography), Knowledge (History), Knowledge (Nature), Knowledge (Nobility), Knowledge (Planes), Knowledge (Religion), Perception, Sense Motive, SpellCraft, Pyromancy, Survival Natural Abilities: Hellfire: "Tieflings are able to fuel their rage into their attacks, leaving burn marks on their foes without ever summoning a flame." -Adds fire damage to all melee attacks, can only be used when extremely pissed, which is easy for a tiefling. Spiked Tail: "Some tieflings tails grow in with a sharp serrated edge. These tails are typically thicker and can be used in combat." -Can use tail to attack Magic/Spells: Fireball: Umm, does this need a description. Flame Pillar: A giant pillar of flame erupts from the ground, encasing the targeted area in the fires of hell Blaze Storm: Flames exude from the user, coating the area around him in flames Fire in the Body: The user coats himself in fire, lashing out at all those around him Fire in the Mind: This spell makes all of the user's allies feel his burning rage, causing his partners to become more passionate in the fight Fire in the Soul: The user takes on the form of a 20 ft. flaming beast, although this is an illusion and those with high intelligence or those he has told of this skill are un-affected. Fire in the Blood (Passive): Whenever the user takes fire damage, he takes no damage and heals for 1/4 of the damage he would have been dealt. Additional Information: He hates it if someone touches his horns Weapons: No weapons Possessions: A long fire-retardant robe and cloak, and fire-proof boots of his design. Backpack full of books he hasn't finished yet. Personality: Typically a very level-headed and calm person, Zarxire has spent many years training to learn everything he could. Though in the heat of battle, he loses all sense of focus and lashes out at everything that stands in his way until everything that defies him is dead. History: Born to a small Tiefling community, Zarxire was a rather happy and average child. The day he turned 10, raiders destroyed his town. They were seeking to eliminate the "demon scum". All he remembers of this horrifying massacre were the flames boiling around him before he passed out. Luckily, the raiders thought him dead and passed him over, Zarxire woke up with nothing but burning ashes remaining of his town. After wandering in the wilds, learning all about it and how to survive in it, he finally came across a wizard's home on the edge of the woods. Due to him being young, his tails and horns had not grown in yet, so the wizard thought he was human and adopted the boy. Zarxire learned everything he could about magic, religion, the planes his kind originated from, and everything he could about the people, their culture, and their land. He would walk around the village that was not far from the wizard's house and would study the people, learning how they ticked. Sadly, as he grew older the only magic he could learn was fire magic which hinted at his origins. but when his horns started to grown in, it was obvious. The wizard sold him out the the militia, and Zarxire fled back into the woods, taking all the books he could with him. He built his own shelter, studied the books he had scavenged as well as a couple he had bought at markets if he could hide his horns and tail. Zarxire swore to fight against any and all injustice, whether it was dealt be demon, monster, human, or royalty. One day, he saw the notices for The Convent and saw it as his chance to prove himself. By helping a holy church, it would prove that he wasn't just some malicious demon. Not to mention that but his knowledge of the world would be very beneficial to the group. So Zarxire packed his books and made his way to the Village of Gorlton’s Apothecary immediately, wondering who he would be teamed up with.

La boutique d'apothécaires Apothecary Wylsen s'est assuré de remettre les articles aux différentes personnes qui étaient venues dans le magasin pour aider dans cette entreprise et cela semblait mettre sœur Agnès à l'aise. Il y avait beaucoup de gens qui étaient venus dans le magasin demander et même parler d'au moins une autre qui allait se joindre. Elle se demande bien combien d'entre eux s'aventureront maintenant qu'ils disposent de toutes les informations qu'elle peut fournir à l'époque. Les regards sur certains de leurs visages l'inquiétaient; les regards d'au moins un étaient assez préoccupants mais elle n'était pas en position d'être difficile en ce moment et elle pensait qu'il devait y avoir au moins un bon en eux pour même se montrer. Certains sont partis alors qu'ils rassemblaient leurs affaires, d'autres sont restés et l'un d'eux semblait même s'envoler soudainement d'un trou caché sur un autre. Il a surpris la vieille femme légèrement, pas par peur, mais simplement parce que ce n'était pas quelque chose qu'on voyait tous les jours. "Bonjour Zam et bonjour Mortosh," Soeur Agnès leur dit tous les deux et retourna à Mortosh, pas sûr si elle devrait se serrer la main ou pas, mais elle avait un regard chaud sur ses anciennes caractéristiques. Merci d'avoir aidé, elle a dit à Zam et Mortosh avant de s'adresser aux quelques-uns qui étaient encore dans la boutique. Et à vous tous aussi. J'aimerais avoir plus d'informations pour vous, comme un endroit pour commencer,, elle a dit comme elle tournait et soupirait. Wylsen vient de s'approcher et a donné à la sœur une tape rassurante sur l'épaule. Ne t'inquiète pas, je suis sûr que ces gens sont capables, qu'est-ce que tu me dis toujours soeur? A-t-il la foi? – Il a dit avec un griffon avant de tourner son attention vers Vaeri et de hochement. La plupart des bienvenues en effet et merci d'être ici pour avoir besoin de lui. Faites un bon voyage, a-t-il dit avant de revenir sur ses affaires et de se tourner vers celui qui s'est présenté comme Hanzo. Voici Hanzo, Wylsen dit alors qu'il remettait les fournitures que Sana s'était assurée de demander pour chacun d'eux. Il se sentait un peu stupide de ne pas penser qu'ils en auraient besoin avant qu'elle ne l'ait mentionné, mais au moins quelqu'un l'avait couvert. Merci pour votre aide Hanzo, Sœur Agnes a dit avec un sourire avant de regarder vers la porte et s'est demandé si quelqu'un d'autre allait entrer ou s'il y avait tout ce qu'il y avait ce jour. Elle resterait juste au cas où et resterait là dans la ville jusqu'à ce qu'ils reviennent. L'auberge Sana regarda alors qu'elle entrait dans l'auberge, se demandant où Hugh s'était tiré; entendant sa voix, sa tête tourna et elle ne put s'empêcher de se moquer d'elle. Il était tôt, l'endroit était calme et il n'y avait pas beaucoup de gens là-dedans et pourtant il lui appelait comme s'ils étaient au centre d'une ville bondée. Dans l'esprit de Sanas même s'ils avaient été entourés par des gens et noyés par le bruit, elle doutait qu'il aurait dû passer tant de temps pour attirer son attention. Il s'est tenu sur le plus grand à six pieds et demi de haut dans ses pieds nus, il était très large d'épaule et bien construit, à peine un qui se perdrait dans une foule; mais là, il s'est tenu la larguer comme un grand enfant. Elle a dû admettre qu'il était plutôt attachant quand il a agi ainsi. Passant à la table qu'il avait réclamée par la fenêtre, elle avait déposé les bouteilles et les flacons qu'elle avait recueillis auprès de l'apothécaire avant de pouvoir lui accorder toute son attention; prenant un pas vers lui, elle se leva sur le bout de l'orteil en l'embrassant doucement. Elle s'est taquinée avant de s'asseoir à table et d'expliquer ce qui se passait, en tirant la liste assez intéressante des articles qu'ils auraient besoin de récupérer et de lui remettre alors que l'hôte apportait leur nourriture et leur café. Il semble que nous ayons un groupe assez intéressant. Haven't a saisi tous leurs noms encore, mais a pensé les apprendre sur le chemin," elle a dit comme elle a délacé son manteau et laissé tomber sur l'arrière de sa chaise. Elle a ajouté avant qu'elle ne prenne une gorgée de son café; puis tournoyer est allé pointer ceux qu'elle avait vus dans le magasin. Celle-ci, dit-elle, pointant vers Melvus, se retourna alors que Tobias entra avec Fiona et se présenta. Et ces deux-là, dit-elle avant de regarder en arrière vers Hugh. Et bien sûr Zack, ici, a-t-elle dit avec un sourire vers lui et un clin d'œil accueillant. Il y en a d'autres, dit-elle avant de regarder par la fenêtre. Et même une de l'Oasis, elle a dit comme elle regardait Hugh hors du coin de son oeil, se demandant comment il réagirait à l'audition il y avait quelqu'un de leur dernière fête aventureuse. L'hôte s'est rendu à Tobias et Fiona en entrant. Oui, que puis-je faire pour vous aujourd'hui... l'hôte s'est arrêté alors qu'il les regardait avant de regarder Tobias. Je te prends pour un clochard? Rue principale de Gorlton Le petit village commençait à se réveiller complètement; les gens allaient et venaient s'occuper des affaires. Certains quittaient l'auberge après s'être reposés pour la nuit; d'autres entraient pour prendre un repas. Les magasins commençaient à ouvrir comme le forgeron d'armes et l'armure à côté de l'apothécaire et un marché général à côté vers le bas. Les écuries étaient tendues par un jeune garçon tandis qu'un homme plus âgé avec une pipe s'appuyait sur le dos et bouffait dessus. La ville semblait avoir assez pour s'en sortir, mais si quelqu'un devait vérifier ce qui était disponible, ils trouveraient qu'il n'y avait rien de spécial. Toutes les armes étaient les plus basiques ainsi que les armures, mais au moins les forgerons ont bien fait avec ce qu'ils avaient et ils pouvaient réparer des articles si nécessaire. Les écuries étaient louées à des gens qui avaient leurs propres montures, mais il y avait deux chevaux qui étaient à vendre; encore une fois, la moyenne au fur et à mesure qu'ils venaient. Le marché général avait des aliments séchés, des peaux d'eau, des vins, des vêtements de temps plus frais, des paquets et des sacs ronds, des articles de toilettage, des cordes et plusieurs autres articles que l'on trouvait habituellement dans un tel magasin. Une ville assez banale pour devenir victime d'une telle peste pour l'orphelinat local, mais encore une fois, c'est peut-être pour cela que cela s'est produit là-bas, parce que c'était très moyen et qu'il semblait n'y avoir rien de spécial à ce sujet.

Name: Hanzo Jibero Age: 26 Alignment: Lawful Neutral Race: Human Class: Monk Appearance/Clothing: Skills: Acrobatics Survival Historical & Religious Knowledge Climbing & Swimming Perception Emotion Reading Ki Manipulation Martial Arts, Grappling, & Throwing Natural Abilities: Has honed his body to its upper limits in durability and reflexes, and learned to how manipulate his Ki (spiritual energy); otherwise, he possesses no special abilities of note for a human. Magic/Spells: Ki Strike - A focused attack bolstered through Ki. Grants a chance for normal damage to penetrate armor and natural resistances. Can be charged for a slightly greater chance. Ki Blast - Hanzo channels Ki into his hands to throw out a bolt of raw energy that travels a short distance. Functions as a basic magical attack with a chance to penetrate physical armor (akin to Ki Strike), but must be charged to yield the proper effect initially. Ki Mending - A monk's own 'lay on hands' technique using Ki. Restores a bit of health and fights magical impurities. Additional Information: This monk hails from an old culture that bears worship to the spirit of nature, rather than any specific god. They bless the sun and the moon for giving them light, and the earth and its bounty for giving them life. A somewhat nomadic culture, these monks rarely established buildings or relics for anything beyond shelter, aiming to preserve nature as best as they could. This culture took up martial arts and the art of Ki manipulation as a means of defensing oneself without resorting to weapons or lethality, and to hone one's body and spirit to its greatest potential. Life was simple and peaceful, yet active and fulfilling. They took what they needed from nature and kindly returned what they did not, blessing all creatures that lost their lives as fulfilling a greater purpose. For Hanzo, this has since changed somewhat. Where he once could've wandered without ever getting lost, he now struggles to find a purpose in this new reality revealed to him. He has long since gotten over the culture shock of the developing world, however, and still finds himself traveling about, benefiting others where he sees fit. The wonder still remains, however, and the monk can't help but wish for a sign to reveal his own destiny. Equipment: Hanzo possesses no weapons besides his fists, but does wear a small medium of protective gear: leather bracers on his forearms and legs, and a belt with magical properties that reinforces his natural durability. Possessions: Something of a miser, Hanzo carries little gear or money on his person. He is always seens with his monk's clothing (see above), as well as a waterskin, a crest of his clan, and a ring of prayer beads. Should the need arise, the sash he wears can be improvised as a ten-foot rope. Personality: By nature, Hanzo is a respectful individual, treating others with kindness when he can see they deserve it. Through his experiences, however, the monk has learned to only really trust those he has discovered as righteous at heart, even if not always purely good. As such, he comes and goes in his travels, not often staying to maintain friendships but still holding them at heart. Getting to know Hanzo and sympathize with him can turn the monk into a faithful ally, even beyond an initial partnership. As a result of his less fortunate experiences, Hanzo bears a stern sense of justice, and is quite willing to help others in desperate need (for better or worse, at times). He tends to be straightforward, but also cautious and logical - not below fighting others to reach a solution, but wise enough to seek an alternate method. As a part of his vowing of respect as a monk, Hanzo will never willingly kill a fellow human/elf/etc, but when pitted against the 'inhumane' (monstrous creatures and truly sinful individuals) he will not share that grace. History: Hanzo was born naturally within a nomadic tribe of monks. As a youth, he was eager to learn their ways and trained hard to better himself. He found himself fitting in well with the culture, benefiting greatly from its teachings and giving him a fairly fulfilling life, at the time. Of course, some things have a tendency to change so very suddenly. As Hanzo's generation was beginning to reach their coming of adulthood, one girl was suddenly outcast from the monks in what had to be a first in their history. She had always been something of a quiet loner, but what put her off the edge was her possession and obsession with a unique steel knife abandoned in the forest. Though Hanzo was somewhat regretful of her suffering this fate, as he was one of the few people to show her kindness, he was ultimately made to pay it no mind. Disaster struck, however, when but a few moons later, the girl returned in the accompany of a legion of violent warriors. She had discovered that the knife was of their craft, and immediately became absorbed into their vastly differing knowledge. When she weaved a tale of being isolated and betrayed by her primitive family and clan, the battle-bred warriors were empowered to aid her in revenge. So began the crusade against Hanzo's clan, a long night of fire beneath a bloody moon. As fear and panic settled in, a still-young Hanzo was desperately urged to flee, even as family and friends alike were quickly slaughtered under the warriors' powerful weapons. Under the shadow of the forest, Hanzo managed to evade the clan's new enemies, and believed himself to be a solitary survivor. But while the fires still remained in sight, Hanzo was suddenly confronted by the girl, bloody knife in hand. Though she had initially spared Hanzo for the kinship he had offered, the murderer claimed to have dicovered a new way of life, driven by a far more powerful emotion: wrath. Seeing the monk feel his own brand of wrath, she offered him another chance, to channel and release this rage the only way she knew how. Hanzo refused, deciding she had more than lost her mind, and attempted to fight her in his anger. Their tango was brief but brutal, put to a painful end when the murderer was knocked headfirst into a collapse of burning branches, blinding her. He only regrets not having learned her name. The time following was harsh to Hanzo, not because he could not survive but because he had nobody else to survive with. He was alone, his family, friends, and culture all mercilessly slaughtered. Hanzo's outlook changed - it had to, if he was going to truly live any longer. The monk began to wander the world again, a world that seemed to so vastly change overnight, as he passed through many towns, kingdoms, and nations. He would help others as he deemed without compensation, all the while hoping to find some new sense of purpose as she had.

L'arène était assez grande, il n'y avait pas de toit, le soleil était haut dans le ciel - il était midi. La température était assez basse pour garder la neige, Melvus savait pourquoi. Il se trouvait qu'il était debout à un bout de l'arène, de l'autre était un... un autre sorcier. Beaucoup l'appelaient la Bête de Goétia, l'une des factions rivales de Drisbane. "Fabricant de Goétia contre Melvus d'Aesil!" L'annonceur avait une voix magiquement amplifiée pour que tous les spectateurs puissent l'entendre. Les factions se battaient sur le territoire de Drisbane. Un simple tremplin vers la couronne. "Que la bataille commence!" Sans hésiter, l'opposition grandit et se métamorphose jusqu'à ce qu'il mesure 15 pieds. "Ah, forme géante de gel..." Melvus a dit sous son souffle. Il avait étudié son adversaire et était sûr que son adversaire l'avait aussi étudié. Goetia était connue comme la faction la plus mauvaise. La grande majorité de leurs membres étaient, en fait, mauvais. La Bête de Goétia a accusé Melvus. Melvus a gardé les yeux sur Fabrant. "Voudriez-vous regarder ça!" L'annonceur était soudainement excité. Melvus comprit bientôt pourquoi, son adversaire avait changé à nouveau, à la dernière seconde. Il a maintenant pris la forme de Frost Drake. Il a exhalé le gel et s'est brisé avec ses griffes. Melvus avait lu récemment et avait trouvé un sort intéressant, il s'appelait Ombre. Le lanceur ne pouvait plus être touché ou vu, mais il ne pouvait toucher personne non plus et ne pouvait le garder que pendant dix secondes, environ. Comme Melvus allait être frappé avec l'attaque de son adversaire, il ne pouvait plus être vu. Il a vite fait son chemin derrière son ennemi et autour de lui apparu des dizaines d'épées, environ quarante, ils ont filé et tourné. « Il semblerait que Melvus ait un nouveau sort dans sa manche! Comment a-t-il fait ça?" L'annonce a été prise au dépourvu, la foule a applaudi. Melvus s'avança et ses épées commencèrent à trancher l'air autour de lui, horizontalement. "Fabricant a encore changé! Maintenant, il est sous forme d'eau!" Les épées ont tranché à travers l'eau qui était maintenant le corps de l'ennemi sorcier et n'a pas endommagé. Melvus n'a pas repris les épées, pour conserver l'énergie. Il a déchauffé sa propre épée. Il étendit son autre main et tira d'elle un appendice qui donnait une lueur chaude. C'était quand Fabrant est revenu à sa forme originale, c'était un elfe. Une corrompue, à ça. La main éclatante le saisit à la taille, enveloppant ses figures autour de son corps. Il l'a soulevé et l'a frappé dans le mur. Melvus bougea la main pour voir son adversaire. Il n'était pas là. "Je ne voulais rien dire! Mais il semble que Fabrant ait encore changé! Pas étonnant qu'ils l'appellent comme ça! » La voix de l'annonceur est venue et Melvus a réalisé quelque chose. Il a jeté Ethereal Wings et a pris l'air, à la recherche de l'autre sorcier... Le vent souffla et Melvus se réveilla. Le son de la musique remplissait les oreilles du sorcier. Sa tête se reposait sur la table en bois devant lui. -- Où...? Il a dit sous son souffle. Le nez a pris une bouffée d'alcool, de nourriture, de fumée. Son assiette, vide de nourriture, était encore chaude devant lui. J'ai dû sortir quelques secondes... c'est ce que tu as quand tu ne dors pas... Il y a Sana, c'est elle qui parlait dans le magasin... Melvus se leva de la table et se rendit à la table près de la fenêtre. Il y avait trois occupants, un homme assez grand, peut-être que c'était le gars de Hugh dont elle avait parlé plus tôt. Il y avait un homme occulté, il ressemblait au type épelant et sentait comme un feu, mais ça aurait pu être l'auberge. Ça, il y avait Sana. "J'ai négligé de me présenter plus tôt... Mon nom est Melvus Garth. Je suis un magicien par métier." Il a pris place à la table pour discuter du travail.

Removed

Il était rafraîchissant pour Mortosh d'être traité avec une telle gentillesse était une rareté les paroles aimables de la femme et de sourire vraiment le mettre à l'aise et lui fait croire que ce voyage ne finirait pas dans la tragédie. Il fit signe et dit à Zam de remercier Soeur Agnès pour lui, il porta les provisions Tout en retournant la plupart d'entre eux n'ayant pas besoin de la plupart d'entre eux, Zam le convainquit d'autre part, il jeta toutes les provisions et se dirigea vers Door Zam dans son trou hideux qui se mit alors à s'ajuster pour que sa tête sorte de son trou. Mortosh a ouvert la porte et a regardé en arrière à la boutique maintenant presque vide les seuls à gauche où The Monk, Sister Agnes et le propriétaire de la boutique avec une vague au revoir Mortosh et Zam a quitté la boutique. Il avait été quelques minutes depuis qu'il avait quitté le magasin et Mortosh était simplement errant autour du village Mortosh errait puis a entendu Zam Inhalé profondément "Par Trew est-il bon d'avoir un peu d'air frais l'air dans le magasin devenait très stagnation" Mortosh regardé à Zam avec préoccupation ("Avez-vous besoin de vos fleurs Zam?") Zam s'est ébranlée la tête "non maintenant ne me les donne pas seulement quand nous trouvons l'auberge" ("Êtes-vous sûr?") "Oui Mort je suis sûr que o.k laisse juste trouver cette putain d'auberge" Mortosh Juste hoche la tête alors il a réalisé quelque chose qu'il n'a aucune idée où l'auberge est

Name: Mortosh Celjust and Zam Mano Age: last time he counted 696 (Zam is 200 a kid by her races standard) Alignment: Chaotic Good (Zam is Neutral Good) Race: undead but more specifically a Skeleton (Zam is a Petal For more information on those look for them on page 120 of monster manual III) Class: Cleric (Zam doesn’t really have a class as she is supposed to act as an item much like boo from Baldur’s gate) Appearance/Clothing: Mortosh wears an enchanted blue hood that obscures his entire face making appear as a black void with blue lights wear his eyes should be this is to hide his skull. He wears an iron chest plate with iron gauntlets his legs are hidden by a long blue skirt and iron boots (Zam’s Skin is light blue her hair is a darker shade of blue her bang cover her eyes she wares gray cloth dress her wings are the same color as her skin) Skills: For Mortosh it is Hide Diplomacy Knowledge (religion) Survival Heal ( For Zam it is Bluff and Gather Information Knowledge (nature) as Zam doesn’t actually have class I decided that it would be op to give her any more skills Natural Abilities: Undead-Life: as an undead you are immune to age effects and disease. Unbreakable: An undead has no death ticks. Undead appetite: The Undead are able to use the undead appetite encounter power. (Zam) Lullaby: Any creature within a 20-foot-radius that fails a DC 14 Will save is affected as though by a lullaby spell. A creature that successfully saves cannot be affected again by that petal’s lullaby song for 24 hours. The save DC is Charisma-based. Magic/Spells: Remove Fear: Suppresses fear or gives +4 on saves against fear for one subject + one per four levels Create Food and Water: Feeds three humans (or one horse)/level. Bless: Allies gain +1 on attack rolls and saves against fear Calming Embrace: By placing his hands on friends, or foes restores Mortosh will restore a bit of health as calm down bersekers Insect Plague: Locust swarms attack creatures (Zam) Chatter: A spell created by Zam And Mortosh To allow Zam to speak for Mortosh Calm Emotions: Calms creatures, negating emotion effects Light: Object shines like a torch lie. Additional Information: he is a cleric of Trew Barton The god of joy and undeath. The lack of a lower jaw makes it hard to speak so Zam usually translate for him she also sits on his shoulder. Mortosh sometimes will be overwhelmed with greed causing him steal without thought this has caused him to land into a whole heap of trouble in the past. Weapons: A Simple mace (Zam Like most of her race doesn’t carry a lethal weapons but she dose carry a blow gun which she uses to shoot darts laced with sleeping powder she doesn’t use this very often due to the ingredients used in the sleeping powder are quite rare) Possessions: Mortosh Carries a shrunken zombie around his neck (Zam Owns Shinobue a Side blown flute) Mortosh has a jar full of flower that he carries around for Zam he carries it around for so she doesn't faint from hot or thick air EDIT: Three vials of Moderate Inflict Wounds Personality: Mortosh is a very friendly Skeleton he is calm and hard to anger but his years of lacking the capability of speech has damaged his social skills quite badly which can make him come off as insensitive. while he is perfectly of take on offensive role he dose fell uncomfortable hurting others be they man or beast but he will not complain if fighting is necessary.(Zam is quite battle hungry once again by her races standard anyway she can’t really stand the thought of staying in one place to long she also has obsession with sugar give her some and shell be your friend for life ironically this is not the reason way she follows Mortosh) History: 696 Years ago Mortosh rose from his grave no memory of his past life the only thing he remembered was his cleric training Mortosh spent a good chunk of his first fifty years searching for his past to no avail Realizing that trying to search for a past that he no idea about or even the reason why he was searching so he gave up on searching and decided to just travel why? He didn’t know back then but now he know he was looking for purpose and he found it when he encountered a necromancer and a follower of Trew. He spoke to Mortosh and told him about Trew. Mortosh was intrigued with Trew so asked the necromancer how he could show his loyalties to Trew and the necromancer handed him the shrunken head. Confused Mortosh asked the necromancer about the head and he told him that the head was the symbol of Trew then he requested that Mortosh would spread the massage of Trew. Mortosh accept the his request but before he went he realized one thing. He would be run out of any village or town before he even toke his first step so asked the necromancer to enchant his hood so it would only show a void. So The necromancer enchanted Mortosh’s hood so with his enchanted hood on Mortosh thank the necromancer and went on his to spread the word of Trew and that how he spend his next two hundred years spreading the word that was until he angered a zealous paladin who broke his jaw to pieces. With no jaw all his words came out as mumbling so not being able to spread the word he turned to learning healing magic so he spent the next hundred years learning. this was around the time that Zam was Born two hundred years ago Zam was. Born in to a tribe of petals a race of tiny fey creatures she was treated well enough but she was still an outcast among her race she wasn’t as talented in art as the rest of her race. So she turned to other thing like spellcraft this is what taught her to speak all other tongues she would later encounter Mortosh when he would save her from a plague walker. Mortosh Seeing that Zam had gotten hurt would go on to heal all her wounds. Grateful for his deed Zam asked him what she could do for him. Mortosh lowered his hood and showed her his lack of lower jaw and he needed someone to speak for him as she was the only one that understood what he was saying she agreed and they have been traveling ever since

L'extase de Hugh a été soudainement interrompue par ce personnage portant un manteau qui s'est présenté comme « Zack » et une multitude d'autres choses qui sont allées d'une oreille et de l'autre, à l'exception du dernier : sorcier. "Oh, uh, je suis-" Le sorcier a rapidement remis à Hugh une liste d'objets, le perplexant complètement. "D'accord, oui, je suppose qu'ils sont rares." Hugh a regardé sur la liste, pas vraiment sûr de ce que beaucoup des articles étaient, ou s'ils étaient rares ou non. Il ne pouvait qu'être d'accord avec l'homme qui parle actuellement. La confusion de Hugh a été soulagée quand Sana est finalement venu et s'est levé sur les orteils pour l'embrasser. Ce qu'elle ne semblait pas réaliser, c'était que Hugh s'était raccourci pendant qu'elle mettait les flacons en bas, afin de recevoir un baiser. C'était une sorte d'habitude qu'il faisait sans s'en rendre compte. Normalement, elle draguait ses bras autour de lui, ou il se penchait et l'embrassait. Il a décidé de ne pas l'envelopper les bras autour d'elle et de montrer beaucoup d'affection car ils semblaient avoir de la compagnie et cela pourrait être un peu de remise en cause pour le nouveau venu qui s'est identifié comme Zack. "Tu m'as manqué. Tellement." Il a dit avec un sourire plein d'amour. Il s'assit comme elle, et écouta attentivement ce qu'elle avait à dire. Elle a dirigé son attention trop et fr, regardant de personne en personne, les identifiant comme membres de leur dernier groupe. Elle a attiré son attention plus avec les mots et même un de l'Oasis. Un sourcil cramponné vers le haut, alors qu'il regardait vers elle, ne savait pas vraiment à quoi s'attendre. Il y avait des gens qu'il aimait et des gens qu'il n'aimait pas. Son esprit a couru à travers différents visages de qui il aurait pu être. Son visage est revenu à la normale, et il a finalement dit « Alors qui pourrait être alors? » Soudain, il s'est levé une main, "Hold on". Il s'est levé : "Tu n'as rien mangé ni rien à boire!" Il a soudain dit, regardant vers Zack. Il a regardé autour de lui, dans différentes parties de la pièce jusqu'à ce qu'il aperçoive la personne exacte qu'il recherchait. "Barmaid!" C'est une jeune femme qui travaille à l'auberge. Il a agité la façon la plus amicale et la plus frénétique qu'il ait pu rassembler. Il ne s'est pas rendu compte à ce moment-là qu'il était tellement une tour d'homme, qu'il n'avait pas besoin d'essayer si fort d'attirer l'attention de la jeune femme. Bien sûr, ses actions ont été un peu repoussées quand un autre sorcier s'est présenté sous le nom de Melvus Garth. "D'accord, prenez un-" Ses mots ont été coupés par l'homme prenant un siège, "... Oui." Il a dirigé son attention vers la barmaid, en espérant que ses convocations ont fonctionné.

Name: Hugh Van Halder Age: 45 Alignment: Neutral Good Race: Human Class: Fighter, Ex-Paladin Appearance/Clohing: He stands at 6'2", a tower of years of built up muscle. He wears a dark earthen blue tunic over a white linen three button pullover shirt. He wears a pair of black shorts(under his pants) and a pair of dark gray hosen(medieval style pants). He'll wear a chain mail shirt and these pauldrons additionally he'll wear leather knee and shin armor. He wears a small gray hood and a bear fur cloak. Skills: He is a good brawler and can fight with anything he can get his hands on(He's used bed rolls before). Horseback riding. Swordfighting, throwing axes, and two handed weapon fighting. He's been able to use crossbows before, but despises them, as they are delicate and take a lot of work just to reload. Bushcraft and survival stuff. Smoking(if that qualifies as a skill). Some cooking. Natural Abilities: He's strong and durable and can take a lot of beatings. He's pretty much a tank. He can drink a lot of alcohol and only get buzzed. Otherwise, he's just a normal human. Magic Spells: N/A Additional Information: He is in a relationship with Sana Rawn. He has a draft horse, named Rodger. Weapons: He wields a large crude looking battle axe and a falchion. Additionally, he has one small crude throwing axe. Possessions: A rucksack with jerky, bread, cheese, rags, spark rocks(basically one is made of magnesium), rope, ladle, cooking knife, two plates, and tobacco. He also has saddle bags on his horse, which he stores his pipe, more tobacco, sugar cubes, a brush, a stick and bow(which he uses for lighting his pipe), and a few salt licks. He has two water skins. One he keeps on his horse, and one on his person or in rucksack. Additionally he has a pot and a frying pan strapped down to the outside of his rucksack. He also wears a ring on a little chain around his neck and he never seems to take it off, as it was given to him by Sana. Personality: He is a more contented man, liking simple things in life, especially enjoying smoking his pipe with a wonderful scenery, usually in the form of a beautiful day and his love, Sana. He has a more realistic attitude towards the world, not being an idealist, only doing things to help. He has great respect for the natural order of things, and you won't find him trying to seek out revenge. He still has a fiery temper when it is stoked enough to come out. History: Hugh was once part of a great order of paladins. They had much land and ruled with wisdom. Their lands were prosperous and fertile. Many were jealous of their lands, but no one had the courage enough to take on the great and Noble order. Their paladins were fierce and formidable fighters. They all stood higher than 6' and were towers of muscle. They were truly terrifying men. But they were brought down under scandal. Fabricated accusations about them stealing their riches and enslaving other groups of people for labor. The scandals kept growing until they were set upon by every surrounding nation. They stood no chance. Many were killed, only a few escaped. They have been long since forgotten, after being hunted for almost two decades, and killed off, until it was concluded that they were finally extinct. Hugh hid among tribes of barbarians to survive. The tribe was good to him, making him one of their own. He had built a life of simplicity. Some warring between other tribes would often end with them being brutalized and then integrated. Hugh had found love in a woman taken from one of the defeated tribes. He had a few sons and lived very happily with her, until they were set upon by a purge of the "savages". Hugh's tribe was wiped out and he was orphaned once again. He had brutally killed all the "civilized" army he could, but it was too late. His tribe was all gone, along with his family. He became a wanderer, and left to find life as a mercenary. In that life, he found an adventure awaiting him in a tavern. The tavern was filled with life, when he came in and joined up with a questing group. There he met a gypsy woman by the name of Sana. He got to know her going on this random little adventure with this party. It was all rather simple and jovial at first, until they were all taken captive by a lich. This lich tried to take Sana from them, and in that moment Hugh only felt desperation and rage. He had slowly begun to realize that he had fallen in love with Sana, and that if he lost her nothing would change about his existence as a wandering mercenary, and he would simply keep losing people he deeply cared about. So he took a chance at love, and broke out of his cage in a fit of rage. He fought like a lion to get to Sana, finally winning out(love triumphs over all!) against the hordes of undead after his party came to his aid. Since then, he's been a contented old soul, taking care of Sana and showing her his love for her, even though he has never said the words.

Vaeri a gardé sa capuche pendant qu'elle errait dans le village à la recherche de l'auberge. Ce village était un endroit pittoresque, il lui a presque rappelé un petit peu de sa ville natale. C'était pour ça qu'elle devait se cacher. Cet endroit a sans doute vu peu de trafic de non-humains, et même en tenant compte de cela, Vaeri était bien consciente que son apparence avait une habitude de gens troublants. Au lieu de cela, elle s'est promenée dans son manteau, regardant un peu moins suspecte. Après tout, un ecclésiastique d'une divinité inconnue des habitants serait beaucoup plus facile si tous ceux qui le regardaient ne le considéraient pas comme un culte. Après une quinzaine de minutes de marche, l'elfe s'arrêta là où elle se tenait et regarda autour. A sa droite, c'était l'Apothicaire. Elle avait fait un cercle géant. Elle n'a jamais eu ce problème à trouver son chemin forêts ou sa ville natale. Les humains et leurs établissements 2 dimensions. Il a rendu votre chemin beaucoup plus compliqué. Essayer de trouver où vous étiez par rapport au reste de la ville était presque impossible puisque les bâtiments bloquaient tout le reste autour d'eux. Retour à Lianyu vous pouvez regarder de haut en bas et obtenir tellement plus d'informations en fonction des niveaux au-dessus et au-dessous de vous. Frustré, Vaeri entre de nouveau dans l'Apothicaire et s'approche du comptoir. "Je suis désolé de vous déranger encore, mais pourriez-vous me diriger à l'auberge s'il vous plaît? Je n'ai pas pu le trouver tout seul."

Name: Vaeri Dryearurdrenn Age: 143 Alignment: Lawful Good Race: Elf Class: Cleric/Barbarian Appearance/Clothing: Vaeri is an innocent looking elf, standing at about 5' 7" (170 cm) with long, straight raven hair that extends down to the base of her back, pale skin and bright blue eyes. At a glance she's quite beautiful with full lips, a small button nose, thin eyebrows and high cheekbones, when one takes a closer look, several tiny scars are visible all over, disfiguring her otherwise graceful looks. Likewise, Vaeri's exposed flesh, the rare times one can see them initially appear smooth and untouched, but upon closer inspection are covered in scars and barely contain wiry muscle below. Vaeri dresses as a lady of the cloth should, with a dark blue full body cloak. The fabric is adorned with intricate patterns in white to provide visual contrast and indicating her status as a clergywoman. Around her neck and outside the cloak, Vaeri wears a necklace bearing the holy symbol of her god. However, underneath the cloak is a full set of leather armor, battle ready and kept in top shape at all times. Skills: Sense Motive, Knowledge (Religion), Knowledge (Nature), Climb, Jump, Sleight of Hand, fletching arrows, surviving out in the wild Natural Abilities: Keen senses, the ability to see better than humans in low light Magic/Spells: Heal: can decide how good this is Tongues: Allows the caster to speak any language for the duration of the spell Turn Undead: Vaeri can attempt to make Undead flee from her presence temporarily. Powerful Undead can resist this. Divine Might: Holy power infuses the caster, temporarily making them more powerful and resilient Flame Strike: Smites foes with holy flames Additional Information: Vaeri worships Menhit, lion-goddess of War. (Fun fact her name means She who massacres) Weapons: Vaeri carries a shortbow and a two-handed battleaxe Possessions: Vaeri carries a backpack that can hold more than you think it would and what Vaeri wants from the bag will always be at the top (the item in question must have been put in the bag beforehand for this to work). Inside the bag are her necessities (tent, rope, bedroll, tarp for the tent, soap, cooking utensils, oil, a lamp, flint and steel), holy texts, and about 2 weeks worth of rations. She also has a coin purse with about 20 gold pieces in it. On her hip is a quiver with 20 arrows. Personality: To strangers, Vaeri appears to be a gentle elf, always keen to help those in need and be a travelling force of good in the world. However, as you get to know her, slowly she morphs into an entirely different person, brash, head-strong and a braggart, this true face of Vaeri shows exactly why she worships the goddess she does. The elf loves battle of all kinds and will gleefully jump into battle whenever she can. History: Vaeri grew up in a forest village mostly populated by other elves to a carpenter. IN her childhood, she began learning the bow as all children did. Her prowess with weaponry was admired just as much as her excessive enthusiasm for using them was worrying. One day while out hunting alone she was overcome by a vision of the lion-goddess Menhit who commanded Vaeri to go out into the world and find a man with two right hands. After this experience, Vaeri began following the goddess of war and has dedicated her life to this mission. The cleric has been following this notice for strong adventurers as a possible lead for locating this mysterious man.

Tobias étendit ses mains de façon théâtrale et sourit à la barmaid. "Très astucieux de vous. Le tramp aura une tasse de votre plus belle serve, si ce n'est pas trop d'ennuis », a-t-il dit, mordant sa joue pour résister à la tentation du sac à monnaie délicieusement non sécurisé de la fille. Ses doigts démangeants pourraient sans doute le glisser sans qu'elle s'en rende compte... mais dans une pièce pleine d'aventuriers, il valait mieux ne pas le hasarder. Il a scanné la foule à l'intérieur de l'auberge. Surtout ses futurs compagnons, vraiment. Fiona avait déménagé pour s'asseoir par le culte moine/démon - Hanzo était son nom. Sana s'embrassait et s'adressait ensuite à quelqu'un de nouveau, un grand garçon plus âgé - c'était peut-être 'Big Brut Pally Hugh'. Tobias a pris un moment pour enregistrer l'espoir que 'Pally' ne défendait pas 'Paladin'. Il ne s'entendait jamais avec les paladins. Le démon était assis avec eux - apparemment il voulait être appelé "Zack". Le sorcier, qui avait l'air un peu fatigué, leur parlait aussi, comme s'il venait de se réveiller d'une sieste. C'était la plus haute densité de ses nouveaux amis. S'il allait commencer à s'engratier avec les gens qui tueraient Mist Dragons pour lui, ça semblait être un endroit où commencer. Le voyou s'est déplacé à travers la foule et a plié à haute voix à la table. "Salut, aventuriers! Tobias, pour ceux qui m'ont manqué : pickpocket, scélérat commun, voyou frénétique, trickster incorrigible, défileur d'une modeste quantité de filles (toutes prêtes à tout, je ne suis pas un fou), criminel de carrière, con-homme, chat-cambrier, lâche oh-so-amourable, sauveur de filles stupides qui entrent dans leur tête, et maintenant, futur aventurier!" Le voleur s'est penché sur sa chaise et a posé ses pieds sur la table. "Charmé. Oh, et si l'un d'entre vous est dérangé par le truc de "criminel de carrière"... Je peux courir plus vite que toi."

Name: Tobias Age: 22 Alignment: Chaotic Good-ish Race: Human Class: Thief Appearance/Clothing: Skills: Bluff, Acrobatics, Charm, Athletics, Sneak, Theft, Streetwise, Knife-Wielding, Knife-Throwing. Natural Abilities: The power of average-ness. Magic/Spells: Not a scrap of it. Additional Information: Tobias isn't the strongest fighter, being far more suited to running, hiding, or bluffing his way out of situations (he's capable by normal person standards, of course - just not really what you'd expect from an adventurer). He's also a massive pathological liar with trust issues a mile wide. Weapons: He has three knives - one on his belt, one on his back, and one in his boot. Possessions: Leather armor, basic adventuring supplies (rope, flint and steel, etc.). His hood is enchanted to make it very hard for someone who sees him with it up to remember his face. He also has a magic grappling hook enchanted to not make a sound. Personality: Tobias is glib, smart-alecky, cowardly, and tries his absolute best to be self-centered. Though he'd feverishly deny it, he's a fundamentally good person underneath the assumed selfish. He tries not to let anyone get close to him, and often uses snark and flat out lies as armor in social interaction. History: Getting the truth out of him about his personal history is extraordinarily difficult, but it's possible to determine that he's an orphan who grew up on the streets and has spent his life so far living in cities and alternating between pickpocket, con-man and cat burglar in order to survive. Also, hai Kronshi. Funny meeting you again. :p

Lob s'était séparé de son ami au temple. Elle lui avait remis la copie de l'avis et un brin d'herbes qu'elle avait acheté à l'apothécaire la veille. C'était un peu comme une mère qui envoyait son enfant à l'école alors qu'elle mettait ses doigts à travers sa crinière orange une fois de plus. "Suivez l'odeur, donnez-leur la note." Il sniffe le guérisseur et son huile de rose une dernière fois avant de prendre le nouveau parfum de la lavande. Dans son esprit primitif, il peut presque voir la ligne spectrale qui est sa location d'odeur loin du temple. Avec toutes les quatre poses à son nom, il lope près du sol pour prendre de grands poumons pleins d'air. Mais plus il se rapproche d'un bâtiment, plus il sent tant d'autres odeurs! Certains sont bons et d'autres sont mauvais odeurs. La suie de feu, L'homme en cuir huilé, L'odeur forte de la femme qui avait l'odeur de l'homme sur elle, La femme et l'acier, L'homme et le sang de bête, LA MORT! Ce parfum de délice l'a fait sortir de son reviré pour regarder de ses yeux un pas son nez comme il regarde à la porte de l'endroit plein de plantes séchées. La femme et le cuir, l'homme et la sucette, et... Les six-six sauvages en cuir noir armure a fixé le gobelin dans le manteau d'ours avec de grands yeux avant qu'il laisse sortir un s'exclamer: "Lève-moi!" Il a ensuite regardé le reste et a retenu l'avis qui a amené le reste à ce point dans leurs histoires de vie collective. Retroussant un peu ses talons, il s'accroupit à une posture moins menaçante et expliqua le mieux qu'il pouvait. "Bien trouvé, sent le chien." Encore une fois, qu'est-ce que la vie sans ses petits défis?

Name:Lob-otto-me! Age:21 (old for a half orc) Alignment: Chaotic Good Race: Half-orc Class: Barbarian(Brute Kit) (estimated 6th level based on wizard spells, 15 THAC0) Brute Description: The most primitive barbarian, the Brute combines traits of both humans and animals. He is heavily built and thick-boned, with a sloping skull resting low on his neck, and fanged jaws protruding over a receding chin. Coarse hair covers his hide-like skin. Long, powerful arms let him lope on all fours and clamber up trees like a monkey. Lacking the intelligence of other barbarians, he depends on his keen senses, natural resilience, and sharp instincts to help him survive. Requirements: A Brute has a maximum Intelligence of 6 and a maximum Charisma of 8. (Treat Intelligence scores of 7 or higher as 6, and Charisma scores of 9 or higher as 8.) A Brute gains a +1 bonus on his initial Strength score or a bonus of 25% on exceptional strength. Homeland Terrain: Any, with Mountains, Jungle, and Forest the most likely. Role: In his homeland, the Brute’s life consists of hunting, sleeping, and fending off predators. Consequently, he values personal virtues that enhance the chances of survival, including cooperation, courage, and genmiv. His moral code consists of two basic principles: (1) do no harm to those who pose no threat, and (2) destroy those who would harm him or his companions. The Brute has no use for virtues and vices associated with civilized societies. Etiquette, greed, personal honor, and loyalty to abstract principles are unknown to him. He can’t be insulted or blackmailed, nor can he be tempted with treasure. A Brute’s interests seldom extend beyond his current needs; with food in his stomach and a soft patch of ground on which to nap, he’s as content as he can be. A Brute allies himself with an adventuring party for companionship, protection, or even the promise of regular meals. He remains loyal so long as his companions treat him decently. He has no aptitude for leadership, strategic planning, or negotiation; he takes orders from anyone he trusts. He serves his party as a forager, hunter, and combatant. Though a Brute’s companions may admire his loyalty and friendliness, they may also balk at his animalistic behavior. He howls at the moon, licks himself clean, and grooms animals by picking bugs from their fur. He eats raw meat, tearing apart carcasses with his teeth. He speaks in grunts, never more than a few syllables at a time. He identifies friends by their smells, and investigates strangers by sniffing them up and down. Secondary Skills: Fire-maker, Forager, Hunter. Weapon Proficiencies: A Brute begins with only two weapon proficiencies. Thereafter, he gains new proficiencies at the normal rate. Required: Club. Brutes must select all subsequent proficiencies from the following choices: axe (any), Celt*, dagger, knife, spear. Non-weapon Proficiencies: A Brute begins with only one non-weapon proficiency. He gains new proficiencies at the normal rate. Bonus: Danger Sense*. Recommended: Artistic Ability,Endurance, Fire-making, Fishing, Foraging*,Hunting, Light Sleeping*, Tracking, Wild Fighting* Barred: Agriculture, Alertness*, Boating*, Crude Armorer, Crude Bowyer/Fletcher, Crude Weapon smithing, Dancing, Horde Summoning, Leadership*, Pottery, Riding (Airborne or Land-based). Economic System: Trade-free. Wealth Options: The concept of trade is new to the Brute, because he’s used to foraging whatever he wants from the wilderness, and doing without if he can’t find it. He begins with no funds or tradable goods. After the barbarian spends some time in the outworld-say, after he’s advanced one level-the DM may allow him to learn a barter system. Armor and Equipment: The Brute begins with padded or leather armor, usually a large fur with a hole in the center, slipped over his head to hang down his body. A Brute may not use any weapons other than those listed in the weapon proficiencies section above. A Brute rarely uses a shield; it interferes with hunting. Special Benefits: Enhanced Natural Armor: The Brute’s coarse hair, thick skin, and dense bones give him a natural armor class of 6 (boosted to AC 4 when he wears padded or leather armor). Improved Climbing: A Brute climbs as a barbarian two levels higher. Wild Brawl: When fighting without weapons, the Brute can propel himself into a berserk frenzy. Bites, punches and kicks are all directed at a single opponent. A single attack roll is used to determine if these attacks finds their mark. Damage is ld6. Enhanced Sense of Smell: A Brute can trail a human, animal, or demi-human by scent, presuming the quarry made the trail within the previous 24 hours. The Brute must be familiar with the quarry, or must have a sample of the scent (a scrap of hide, a lock of hair, a piece of clothing). A Brute has the same chance to follow the trail as if he had the tracking proficiency. (Refer to Table 39 in the Player’s Handbook. Use only the modifiers relevant to following a trail by scent, including those associated with the number of creatures in the group, elapsed time, and inclement weather.) Use the Brute’s Wisdom score to make tracking checks. If the Brute has the tracking proficiency, he receives a +2 bonus to his checks. A Brute can also identify a particular character or creature by its lingering aroma, presuming the character or creature was in the area within the past 24 hours. The Brute must be familiar with the creature or have a sample of the scent. The Brute identifies the scent with a successful Wisdom check. Surprise Bonus: Because of the Brute's sharp senses, he receives a +2 bonus to his surprise rolls. Special Hindrances: Reduced Movement: A Brute has a base movement rate of 12. Language Limit: A Brute can't know more than a single language. Limited Magic: A Brute will not use magical items that require command words or concentration for their use. He can use magical potions, clothing and weapons. *** Leaping and Springing. The barbarian fighter is skilled at making leaps (horizontal jumps) and springs (vertical jumps). To make a running leap or spring, he must have a running start of at least 20 feet in a straight line; less than this, and the best he can do is a standing leap or spring. Standing leaps and springs are made from stationary positions. Table 8 indicates the horizontal distances (for leaps) and vertical distances (for springs) for barbarian fighters of various levels. Distances are expressed in feet. Roll the die separately for each leap or spring. Back Protection. Table 9 shows the barbarian fighter's chance of detecting an attack from behind, made by any character or creature. If the barbarian successfully detects the attack, he avoids it. Additionally, the barbarian is entitled to counter-attack the attacker immediately, even if the barbarian already attacked that turn. Example: Grog the barbarian makes a club attack against a lizard man, while an ogre attempts to attack Grog from behind. After resolving his attack on the lizard man, Grog makes a back detection roll and succeeds; therefore, the ogre receives no special attack bonuses for attacking from behind. The ogre makes a normal attack against Grog; Grog is allowed a "free" counter-attack against the ogre. All of this occurs in the same round. Climbing. The barbarian fighter can climb walls and other surfaces-including ledges, cliffs, and trees-without the aid of tools. Table 9 indicates success chances. This skill works like the thief's climb walls ability Appearance/Clothing: 6'4" 250 Lbs Skills: Weapon specialization: Great club, (+1 hit +2 damage) Weapon proficiency: Dagger, Throwing Axe, Battle axe, Spear Armor proficiency: Padded, Leather Secondary Skills: Forager. Bonus: Danger Sense*, Endurance, Hunting, Light Sleeping*(only need 1 hour of sleep for full rest), Sign Language, Tracking, Wild Fighting*(+1 attacks a round, 3 penalty to AC, -3 to hit, +3 damage, good for minion sweeping or easy to hit enemies) Natural Abilities: Heightened strength(+3 hit +8 damage). Darkvision/infravision. Back Detection(40%) Climbing(95%) Running Leap: 3d6+6 Ft. Running Spring: ld6+3 Ft. Standing Leap: 2d4+3 Ft. Standing Spring: ld4+3 Ft. Additional Information: Highly bestial nature who worships the moon. Treats all dogs like family. His homeland terrain is the open plains, he is always considered proficient in survival, tracking, hiding, and animal lore in his home terrain and provides a penalty to his enemies to detect him when trying to surprise them in the plains. Weapons: CLUB! is a greatclub (2d4) that is little more than a bone ripped from the wing of a black dragon and fitted to a handle. Much of its energy is still rather raw from the experience, but its damage transfer the dragonic energy of acid to stop regenerating creatures. Even if it does not drip acid itself, it seems to work half the time to harm trolls and the like.(8/8/15 Gained a permanent +1d4 from shillelagh potion) (3d4+8 11-20) CATCH! A throwing 'axe' which was a parting gift from the last parties bard/cook, she could throw and catch three at a time in the air. It was an entertaining skill he never developed, but it is great for when he needs to hunt rabbits or use with his 'not a hat' if it is too cramped to use his club! Possessions: Hide of hiding! Hide armor made from the hide of a black bear, because black is good for hiding! He proved himself to his lost clan's shaman (druid) who put a 'blessing' (invisibility to animals) on the armor for good hunting. He has learned that he can approach an animal, but after the first attack, they can see him. He also learned the hard way that it only works on normal animals, special animals can see him just fine. Not a hat! is something he uses when he knows he is going to have to fight something directly and dangerous, not when he is hunting for game. When not fighting, he uses the buckler for a plate or to carry things from foraging. Personality: Fairly simple minded, He has a personality that focuses on loyalty to a fault. He is easily coerced by his friends to do most things. History: About one in ten half-orcs can pass for human, he could not. Left out in the woods and the wilds, he was taken up by a tribe of halfling plains-riders who thought him to be a curiosity. He grew in the tribe and grew some more, easily keeping pace with the 8 meal metabolism of the others and foraging for his own when extra hungry. His phenomenal strength lent him a place in the tribe, but his simpler than most mind meant he had no desires for chiefdom. One day, the plains-riders came upon a Gnoll tribe and their overconfidence was their doom. It was a glorious battle and now the halflings ride across the black plains as stars in the sky, but Lob was not one of those. He awoke some days later with a great gash across his forehead but alive all the same. He burned his people as they were to do and wandered on his own, breaking from the circuit of his people to see the rest of the realm. He came into sight of an adventuring party low on their luck and he brought them a whole elk that even the ranger hadn't been able to take down (to which the bard joked that he was the new animal companion for the ranger's lost wolf). They began to keep him like a pet and gave him his new name from the skull scar which he found good as his old name died with his people. The new family took him from woods to still water swamp where they sought out a black dragon and its treasure. The brackish trees were too thick to fly but not to climb as he made his way by branches when the dragon attacked. First it cunningly weakened the party with many animals of the swamp before striking. The party was doing well until the wizard was bitten by a snake and down for the count so Lob took the staff and swung it like a club across the dragons face. The reverberation of the shattered staff loosing all of its stored energy was enough to end the fight as the beast collapsed. But, when it came time to divide the treasures, the in-fighting broke the party in two with Lob merely claiming a trophy of the dragon as his reward. The party split up in town after all was said and sold, enough for some to retire. The city was no place for Lob and so he had one of the fighters help him get his bone made into a serviceable weapon before he left with the groups Healer who chose to go on a pilgrimage to renew her faith and could use his strength. After a few temples, he pilgrimage has been made to pause with this new sickness rising. Since Lob is 'ever so good at finding things', the healer asked lob to help the children while she stays at this village to tend to the sick. ***Scent tracking*** Drizzak -smoked meat, burnt earth and occasionally strawberries.. Fiona - wilderness, the road, and a little of her horse Hanzo -outdoor air, with hints of morning dampness and a slight earthy aroma. Hugh - tobacco, horse, his own sweat, metal, and grass. Lob - Dry dog, dirt, bit of dung Melvis - At the moment, Melvus smells like blood Mortosh -sorta dead with rust smell to him as well as a bit of blueberry Sana - cedar wood and jasmine flower. Sister Agnes-Lavender and rosemary oil Tobias -sweat and red apples. Vaeri -surrounding forest with a hint of cinnamon. Zack -Ash Zam-flowery blueberry and has a hint rust to her scent