Fantasy Percipience

[Edric Yuma]

Percipience
(First post is up! Big thanks to Alteras for the coding. You can view this on both computer and phone: if on phone, just tap on the black part! Unfortunately, the text for Marcel's tab doesn't show up, so be sure to click on Sanya's tab (bottom right) and then back to Marcel's to read the text for Marcel's tab! It'll make more sense if his is read first.)
[class=container] --color-1: black; --color-2: #c4c5ca; --img-h: 722; --img-w: 485; --width: calc( (var(--img-w) / var(--img-h) ) * 84vh); --shadow-content-height: calc( 20px + (30 - 20) * (100vw - 200px) / (1280 - 200) ); height: auto; padding: 10px; position: relative; background-color: var(--color-1); color: var(--color-2); overflow: hidden; [/class] [class=imageFiller] position: absolute; height: 84vh; top:0; left:0; width: 100%; font-size: calc( 24px + (40 - 24) * (100vw - 200px) / (1280 - 200) ); [/class] [class=flashCover] position: absolute; width: 100%; height: 100%; top: 0; left: 0; background-color: transparent; opacity: 1; z-index: 5; pointer-events: none; [/class] [class=flash] background-color: white; opacity: 0; transition: background-color .5s 6.5s, opacity 4s 8s; [/class] [class=flex] position: relative; width: 100%; height: auto; display: flex; flex-flow: row wrap; justify-content: center; [/class] [class=image] position: relative; top: 0; font-size:0; height: 84vh; max-height: 100%; padding-right: var(--width); max-width: 100%; box-sizing: border-box; [/class] [class=imageInside] width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; top:0; left:0; font-size: 0; background-image: url('https://pre00.deviantart.net/5300/th/pre/i/2016/146/d/3/phexdan_a_k_a__feqzjian__dsa__by_neferu-da3rdgx.jpg'); background-size: cover; background-repeat: none; [/class] [class=imageShadow] position: absolute; top:0; left:0; width: 100%; height: 100%; box-shadow: inset 0 0 50vh 50vh var(--color-1); transition: box-shadow 3s 9.5s; [/class] [class=shadows] box-shadow: inset 0 0 3vh 3vh var(--color-1); [/class] [class=content] position: relative; height: 100%; width: 100%; max-width: 0; box-sizing: border-box; transition: max-width 2s linear 16s; overflow: hidden; padding: 5px; display: flex; flex-flow: column nowrap; justify-content: stretch; [/class] [class=contentHolder] position: relative; max-height:0; max-width:0; height: 84vh; overflow: hidden; width: var(--width); transition: max-height 1s linear 15s, max-width 2s linear 16s; [/class] [class=contentShadow] position: absolute; z-index:4; height: 100%; width: 100%; top:0; left:0; box-shadow: inset 0 0 50vh 50vh var(--color-1); transition: box-shadow 3s 18s; pointer-events: none; [/class] [class=contentHolderOpen] max-height: 84vh; max-width: var(--width); [/class] [class=contentOpen] max-width: var(--width); [/class] [class=contentShadowOpen] box-shadow: inset 0 0 0 0 var(--color-1); [/class] [class=quote] color: white; position: absolute; padding: 5%; width: 100%; z-index:2; pointer-events: none; [/class] [class=quoteTop] top:0; left:0; opacity: 0; transition: color 2.5s 7s, opacity 1.5s; font-size: .9em; [/class] [class=quoteMid] top:50%; left:50%; transform: translateY(-50%) translateX(-50%); opacity: 0; transition: color 2.5s 7s, opacity 1.5s 3s; text-align: center; font-size: .9em; [/class] [class=quoteBot] bottom:0; right:0; text-align: right; opacity: 0; transition: color 2.5s 7s, opacity 1.5s 5s; font-size: 2em; [/class] [class=quoteOpen] opacity: 1; color: transparent; [/class] [class=name] position: relative; width: 100%; height: auto; max-height: 100%; text-align: center; border-bottom: 2px solid var(--color-2); box-sizing: border-box; font-size: calc( 46px + (70 - 46) * (100vw - 200px) / (1280 - 200) ); line-height: 1; flex: 0; [/class] [class=tabs] position: relative; width: 100%; height: auto; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 2px; font-size: calc( 20px + (30 - 20) * (100vw - 200px) / (1280 - 200) ); line-height: 1; order: 3; display: flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; justify-content: stretch; z-index: 3; border-top: 2px solid var(--color-2); [/class] [class=tab] flex: 1; display: inline; text-align: center; z-index: 3; cursor: pointer; font-family: 'Special Elite'; font-weight: normal; transition: color 1s, font-weight 1s; [/class] [class=bolded] font-weight: bold; color: white; [/class] [class=tabContentHolder] margin-top: calc( -1* var(--shadow-content-height) ); position: relative; overflow: hidden; flex: 1 0 auto; box-sizing: border-box; [/class] [class=tabContent] height: 100%; width: 100%; top:0; left:0; position: absolute; overflow: hidden; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 1s; [/class] [class=scroll] padding-top: var(--shadow-content-height); width: 100%; height: calc( 100% - var(--shadow-content-height) ); position: relative; overflow-Y: scroll; padding-right: 100px; font-size: 16px; [/class] [class=Opacity] opacity: 0; pointer-events: none; [/class] [script class=container on=mouseenter] addClass shadows imageShadow addClass quoteOpen quote addClass flash flashCover addClass contentOpen content addClass contentHolderOpen contentHolder addClass contentShadowOpen contentShadow [/script] [script=tab] set CurTab "Marcel" addClass Opacity tabContent removeClass Opacity basicContent addClass bolded Marcel [/script] [script class=tab on=click] set SelTab (getText) if (eq ${CurTab} ${SelTab} ) (stop) if (eq ${SelTab} "Marcel" ) (removeClass Opacity introContent) (addClass Opacity introContent) if (eq ${SelTab} "Marcel" ) (addClass bolded Marcel) (removeClass bolded Marcel) if (eq ${SelTab} "Sanya" ) (removeClass Opacity goalContent) (addClass Opacity goalContent) if (eq ${SelTab} "Sanya" ) (addClass bolded Sanya) (removeClass bolded Sanya) set CurTab ${SelTab} [/script] [div class=container][div class=flashCover][/div][div class=imageFiller]
[div class="quote quoteTop"]In a nimble leap, Marcel lands on the house roof.[/div]
[div class="quote quoteMid"]His grip on the pistol tightens. He aims slightly left.[/div]
[div class="quote quoteBot"]Bam![/div]
[/div][div class=flex][div class=image][div class=imageInside][/div][div class=imageShadow][/div][/div][div class=contentHolder][div class=contentShadow][/div][div class=content][div class=name]THE CALL

Arc I: Vigilante

[/div][div class=tabs][div class="tab Marcel"]Marcel[/div][div class="tab Sanya"]Sanya[/div][/div][div class=tabContentHolder]
[div class="tabContent introContent"][div class=scroll]

Yassord Clan, Zenobian Region, 2 Days Ago

​

Marcel looked down at his flyer again, scanning the words for information. 'HELP WANTED. Occult fire-spirit religious group terrorizing Yassord Clan, on edge of Zenobia Region near No-Man's Land. Will pay for their deaths in food and precious metals.' After a quick glance, he crumpled the paper into a ball, stuffed it back into his pocket, and looked at his surroundings. "This seems about right," he muttered.

Marcel was standing in the middle of a marketplace. Normally, the Zenobia Region was full of technology, but this clan seemed to be neglected due to its distance away from the region's central hub. The central market street was lined with adobe houses, and the dust and sand that littered the streets tainted his pants a bright shade of tan. It was a couple hours before noon, and it seemed like this was their trading time; the market streets were completely filled with vendors, shouting their wares to the wandering masses. Everyone once in a while Marcel, who was standing in the dead center of the street and not moving, would get shoved to the side by someone in the crowd. Others would hurl insults at him, incredulous someone was rude enough to stop moving during such a time. "Sorry, sorry- I'm on important business! More important than your stupid ass," Marcel murmured. After observing for a few more minutes, he determined there wasn't any suspicious activity happening in the moment and decided he was thirsty. Walking over to a vendor, he said, "I'll take whatever cold drink you have."

"That'll run ya two pieces, ser."

Marcel rummaged through his pockets, then fished two gold pieces and held them out for the vendor. The vendor glanced at them quizzically, then back at Marcel. "Well?" Marcel asked, shaking the pieces in emphasis. The vendor shook his head. "Ser, we don't e'cept gold fer payment. Our clan only takes coppa or silva."

"What?" Marcel asked, in disbelief. "What kind of clan doesn't accept gold? It's gold, for crying out loud! Gold, as in the precious metal everyone wants? Hello?"

"Ser, the clan has no need fer-"

"Well the clan can isn't here, you are! Look dude, I'm out here doing the work of the Gods, saving your lazy butts from whatever religious cult you guys seem to be having trouble with." At the mention of the cult, the vendor seemed to shiver a little. "Won't you cut me some slack and accept these two gold pieces?"

"I, er-" The vendor's eyes darted left and right, as if to make sure they weren't being watched. "Fine. Just leave the booth. Quickly."

~

Marcel sipped his greenish-blue drink as he sat on a steel crate, watching the marketplace hubbub subside to a low buzz. He was on the lookout for anything suspicious, but it seemed so far there was nothing out of the ordinary occuring. Just as he got up to leave, however, a scream from his left caught his attention. A woman dressed in black around her forties stood atop a wooden platform at the center of the market, holding a machine gun in her hands. "By the great spiritual leader Gegmarun, I command all of thee to submit your dues to the mighty fire spirit! Pay up before thou art sentenced to die. For all those who oppose the mighty fire spirit are condemned to-"

Marcel pulled out his gun and shot her in the head. She fell facedown on the platform, dead. The people of the marketplace shouted in surprise and fear, and there was a mass movement of pushing and shoving to get out of the main street. In a matter of minutes, leaving Marcel alone, sitting on a steel crate, sipping his greenish-blue drink. Marcel shoved his gun back into its holster on his right hip, then got up and walked over to the woman. "Ma'am, with all due respect, it seemed like you had no clue how to use that gun. Had you even shot it before?" The platform was now drenched in blood. "If you use a gun against a crowd of people, you sure as hell better be ready to have a gun used against you."

Marcel picked up her body and slung it over his shoulder, slightly grunting at the weight on his back. "Time to pick up my payment, I guess. This was a lot easier than I thought it would be." As he took a couple steps off the platform, however, a voice stopped him.

"Wait."

Marcel instinctively dove to his left into a crate, dropping the body and smashing the crate. A searing column of flame roared down the center of the marketplace where Marcel just was, leaving the wooden platform smoldering and the body in ashes. Marcel looked back in the direction the flame came from. A man in sleek, black robes ornamented with an X-pattern of gray orbs and strange symbols stood there, hands glowing in heat. His hood was up, and Marcel didn't get a good look at his face before he fired a second column of flame. "Woah now!" Marcel dove again back to the center of the marketplace as the second column of flame blasted into a house, reducing it to smithereens. "Woah woah woah-" Marcel held up his hands. "Stop! You shouldn't attack without warning like that, it throws off the epic battle vibes. Besides, I wanted to talk to you."

The robed man paused, piercing holes through Marcel with his fiery glare. "Quickly, mortal, for you gave my apprentice no time to respond."

"First off: who the hell are you? Are you the Geggy-guy that woman was talking about? Second: Who do you actually follow? And Third: Can we not fight here? Please? Destroying these houses takes a bit off my pay for this assignment."

The robed man snarled, causing Marcel to pull out his pistol. "These foolish talks are of no concern to me. I, Gegmarun, ambassador for the spirit Thalvallog, will end your distasteful heresy now!"

As he muttered an incantation under his breath, Gegmarun's eyes glowed, and he tore off his robe to reveal glowing red tattoos across his muscular arms and back. Marcel whistled. "Ooh, fancy. So you figured out how to do a spiritual transformation, huh? But by no means-" Marcel lifted his pistol up and fired three quick shots at Gegmarun- "does that warrant such obnoxious actions!" With a quick circular hand motion, Gegmarun created a ring of fire that incinerated Marcel's shots, then used the same ring of fire to launch a barrage of small fireballs at Marcel. Marcel ducked and ran, hiding behind a house ("damn, hope this house doesn't burn,") to reload and assess his options. He decided against using his powers; Gegmarun was simply not skilled enough for Marcel to think it honorable to fight with his own powers.

A sudden creak in the house interrupted Marcel's thinking, and broken wooden roof planks fell around him. Gegmarun's fireballs were about to break through. Thinking swiftly, Marcel grabbed a broken wooden plank and chucked it out into the street, shouting as if he were about to run out. Gegmarun, falling for the bait, quickly switched his fireball to target the moving object. In that split second, Marcel jumped onto the top of the house, tightened his grip on the leather-textured padding of his pistol, aimed his sights slightly left of Gegmarun's head, and fired. Gegmarun, realizing the trap, had begun turning his ring of fire to block Marcel's shot, but it was too late. A bullet sailed through Gegmarun's cheek, causing him to drop his ring of fire, clutch his cheek, and fall to his knees in pain as blood flowed profusely from his wound. "Gotcha!" Marcel sang, jumping down from the roof.

As Marcel approached him, Gegmarun's tattoos and eyes faded and were no longer glowing. However, as the glowing faded, fury surged. Marcel could feel raw waves of anger gushing out over him. "Oh, c'mon. I didn't kill you, and you give me that look? You're coming with me, I have some questions for you." With a quick kick to his gut, Gegmarun fell unconscious to the ground, and Marcel slung him over his shoulder.

~

"Uh... Marcel, is that correct?"

"Yes, Mr. Elder. You owe me some payment." Marcel stood in the infirmary building, and the Elder of the clan stood hunched over a clipboard. The Elder had moon-shaped glasses, and they gleamed whenever he paused to look up at Marcel. In a nearby room, Marcel could hear Gegmarun's cries of pain as the healers of the clan attempted to stop his bleeding. "Yes. Your reward of five hundred gold pieces was ready. As you may already know, our clan sits atop an abundant gold mine and is in no need of more gold. However, we saw it fit to deduct two hundred gold pieces from your reward due to the level of havoc you caused within the clan territory. It, uh..."

The Elder lifted his clipboard very close to his face, peering at it from the bottom of his lens. "It says here you intimidated one of our market's merchants, caused tremendous traumatic stress by shooting and killing someone in the middle of a busy crowd, scorched the entire central road with a line of ashes, burnt the center wooden platform we use for speeches, destroyed two houses, and basically interrupted all activities for the remainder of the day. Surely there were better ways to go about the task with your abundant wealth of abilities, Marcel?" The Elder looked up from his clipboard at Marcel.

"I, uh.... Yeah. Three hundred gold's fine." Marcel groaned, combing his fingers through his hair. "Sanya's gonna kill me." The Elder nodded, eyes twinkling in amusement. "Glad we could reach an agreement. The man you captured, Gegmarun, is the leader of the religious cult that was harassing our merchants, so they will likely no longer be a terrorizing force in our area. You have our thanks. He is over in that room, if you wish to talk to him." The Elder pointed down the hallway.

~

After receiving a clinking bag full of his three hundred gold pieces, Marcel walked over to see Gegmarun. He was cuffed to a medical examination chair with half of his face covered in stained bandages. Upon seeing Marcel, he spit at his feet. His voice was coarse and slurred from the blood in his cheek. "Have you come to me for personal gain, that you may humiliate me for your entertainment? You will not find me very amusing."

Marcel shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He walked over to stand above Gegmarun's chair, then bent down so he could observe Gegmarun's single, visible bloodshot eye for any indication of emotion and to display his own sincerity. "I'm not low enough to humiliate a worthy opponent. I only have one question."

Marcel waited, hoping he would see some sort of positive response. There was none. Standing back up, Marcel paced around his chair. "Who hired you?"

"The spirit Thalvallog-"

"Thalvallog is not your real master. You could not have possibly forged a contract with him yourself; spiritual transformations are only used by the most skilled of fighters, and you seem very, very inexperienced. Pro tip? Next time you find yourself in a firefight - pardon the pun - keep moving." Marcel stopped pacing, then gazed at Gegmarun: his eye had narrowed; his hands gave an involuntary jerk. "I know nothing."

Marcel sighed. "At this point, I would usually call on Sanya to beat the confidence out of you, as I hate getting blood on my shirt, but she's not here. You're lucky she's not; I'd have had the truth out of you in no time." Marcel absentmindedly twirled his pistol around his right index finger, pondering what to say next. He was pretty sure he just messed up. Something about not revealing his flaws? Maybe it wasn't worth asking anymore. One way or another, if it was important information, he'd probably find out soon. Deciding he'd rather just head back, Marcel turned to leave.

"Banshee will return."

Marcel stopped, returning his gaze back to Gegmarun, whose visible eye had transformed to projected defiance; confidence, even. Marcel's face darkened slightly: he'd heard that name before. "Is that all you have to say?"

Gegmarun's open hands closed to form fists. "Banshee will return." Marcel swiftly turned heel and left the room. "Thank you for the information." As he exited, he could hear the hoarse calls of Gegmarun echo down the hallway. "Banshee will find you! You cannot run, you cannot hide! Your sins will never go unpunished."

Marcel strode down the hallway and back in the direction he came, arriving back at the room where he received his payment. The Elder was still there, scribbling away at his clipboard. "Mr. Elder!" Marcel walked over, causing the Elder to look up in surprise. "Y-yes? Did we not settle our debts correctly?"

"No, no, not that. Something more important has come up. Listen: Would it be possible for you to send me a list of any nearby requests related to hostile activity such as attempted revolution or control?" Marcel tried his best to suppress a smile, but it still showed through a slight smirk. It had been a while since he last encountered a potentially big task, and excitement was flowing through his veins.

"Sure, Marcel, but may I ask why that specific kind of activity?" The Elder set down his clipboard, leafing through a files on the nearby table. "It's not often I am given such a strange request."

Marcel pat the Elder on his back, no longer bothering to hide his grin. "For your protection and my entertainment. Besides, I'd say a new wave of revolutionaries are long overdue, wouldn't you? Haven't gotten those in a while."

The Elder cocked an eyebrow, then nodded slowly. "Yes - uh, okay. I will send them... where, exactly, do you want me to sen-"

The Elder turned back to speak to Marcel, but he had already disappeared. Sighing, the Elder returned back to leafing through his files. "Damned youngsters."

Continued in Sanya's Tab....​

[/div][/div]
[div class="tabContent goalContent"][div class=scroll]

No-Man's Land, Region Between Rudonia and Zenobia, Present
​

Sanya sensed Marcel coming from miles away, but she didn't bother to look when he jogged up behind her. Sanya was sitting on a rotted wooden chair located between two tall piles of scrap materials providing shade from the blistering sun. The two piles were stacked in a cone shape; one was piled so high it rivaled a skyscraper. As Marcel entered under the shade of the piles, Sanya continued sketching in her notebook, ignoring his calls until he got too close. "Hey, Sanya! Fancy finding you at the twin spikes."

"Sup bitch."

Marcel frowned, setting a clinking bag of coins on the ground. "That wasn't very nice. What are you doing here? I thought my flyers said to meet up at the destroyed Rudonian aircraft?"

"Yeah, and you deciding to not show up until thirty minutes before our flyer's announced time wasn't very nice either." Sanya exhaled sharply, shutting her notebook and stuffing it under her arm. "I was trying to embody the beautiful waste around me in my notebook before your lazy ass showed up."

Marcel muttered something about "emo," then laughed. "C'mon - I was out earning some bank for the clan! Cut me some slack." Sanya leaned out and peered behind her at the bag Marcel had set down. "How much did you get? I'll accept your excuse if it's over one thousand, but that looks pretty puny to me."

Marcel groaned. "Well - you see - this fire guy started randomly destroying things, and because of that my pay got reduced a little -"

"How much?"

"Three hundred."

Sanya scoffed. "Three hundred? You call that money? I bet I could earn three hundred walking the dog for some rich guy. There's a reason why our clan is dirt-poor, you know. You and those 'Morals' are always losing us money. Who cares if he's too weak for your abilities? Just bust his ass. Hopefully these new recruits will pull their own weight more than you have."

Marcel walked over to the taller pile of scrap materials, looking for his own chair to sit on. "Speaking of new recruits- this is the wrong place, remember? The flyers? They said something different."

"Ah... these?" Sanya held up a stack of papers that appeared to have scribbled, incoherent writing with a drawing of a deformed hand. "I never used these. I made my own and changed the location to the twin spikes; I wanted to draw the spikes more."

After sifting around, Marcel found a metal bucket in the pile, flipped it upside-down, and sat on it facing Sanya. "What?! I put so much effort into making those flyers." Marcel glumly rested his chin on his arm. "They look nice!"

"Marcel. I have some really important advice for you the next time you try doing anything artistic: don't. First of all, your writing is trash. Literally I could stick a pencil in my rear end and write better than you. Secondly, your drawing is trash. Is this a hand? It could be a penis for all I know. What even was the point of having a drawing of a hand on a recruitment flyer? I had to drastically change the whole thing for it to even make sense." Sanya held up a second stack of papers. On the front of each paper was a sketch of a small map of the nearby area with the label 'TWIN SPIKES' starred. It read:

'Looking for a new home or job? The Unknown Clan is recruiting! Free room and board, provided you work all your jobs. Meet at the Twin Spikes two hours before noon. - Sanya & Marcel'

"See?" Sanya asked. "Much more informative." She smiled, putting down the flyers, satisfied with her handiwork. "What's more, I even got others to do it! Some guys came over and thought they could pay me for sex, so I beat the shit out of them and made them put the flyers up instead."

Marcel booed gloomily. "Whatever... You didn't have to be so mean about it... I tried my best!"

Sanya flashed a thumbs up. "Yes, yes, most improved and all that."

"Whatever, emo-girl."

"Right back at you, scobberlotcher."

Sanya and Marcel briefly locked eyes - then burst out laughing.

Marcel had been gone for seven days, and they quickly began catching up with each other's experiences. Marcel described his misadventures in the Yassord clan's market, and Sanya described the horrors of running the clan. "So get this - I had to convince Zayden I was incapable of love to get him to stop flirting! His advances have been SO annoying. He's such a fuckboy! Ugh."

Marcel laughed, offering a consoling pat. "If it makes you feel any better, my week wasn't great either. I had to sleep next to cow manure because no one, and I mean no one, in Yassord takes gold for payment! Can you believe it? Unbelievable."

At this, Sanya laughed some more, and, before they knew it, twenty minutes had passed.

Marcel glanced at the shadows on the ground. "Well, they'll be here pretty soon. Do we have some sort of speech prepared or anything? And has it occurred to you just how potentially dangerous this is for us - just putting up flyers with our names and location and time on them?"

Sanya rolled her eyes. "Why don't you think about this stuff before we only have a few minutes left? This was your idea, dumbass. Just wing it. You always do. I'll just keep watch for anyone or anything suspicious."








[/div][/div]
[/div]
[/div][/div][/div][/div]

Objectives Welcome to the world of Terranthea! For your first post: Describe how your character arrived at No-Man’s Land (and, if applicable, how long they've been in it), found/spotted one of the flyers lying around, and decided to join. Were they hesitant? Did they just want to check it out and leave if it was bad? Be sure to describe their thought process and motivations as well. Keep in mind that the Unknown Clan already has a reputation as the “Moral Mercenaries” within the No-Man’s Land; you can use that to influence your character’s decision. This is not a backstory! Just post as much as you wish to reveal, as long as it meets the above description. The first to post is the first to arrive at the twin spikes, so if you arrive last, you (if you want) could talk about your character’s reaction to the other people. Berries Collidias Rex Kloudy Fayree ithinkcat Damafaud Aurum

 

[Collidias Rex]

Valencia Fire-Speaker
​

Moral.

There was a word Valencia didn't put much faith in these days. Long had man departed from that which the gods had set in place, so much so that she wasn't sure if the word 'moral' belonged in this world at all; let alone whether it belonged in the same breath as 'mercenaries'.

Yet all the same, the Unknown Clan alone were labelled the 'Moral Mercenaries', whereas other groups were not. That had to mean something. There must have been something to their methods to warrant such a title. Warriors by trade - protectors by rumor.

She stretched, luxuriating in the sweltering heat of the sun high above. Her robe had been wrapped around the end of the staff slung across her shoulders as her bare shoulders basked in the warmth. Her strapless shirt had been hiked up and tied with a cord just below the breast, leaving her midriff exposed to the weather.

Twin peaks reflected and bobbed in the small, circular lenses of her sunglasses with each step, hidden eyes fixed on the objective.

The days trekking through the Zenobian territory hadn't been the kindest. The dank urban jungle left her cold and uncomfortable, and finding a moment of solace had been difficult. Hadn't she stopped to scan a local noticeboard in a small border region, she'd have marched straight through No Man's Land and into the warm deserts of Rudonia to continue her soul-searching.

But fate had its own way of finding her.

She stretched a hand to her robe and pulled a leaflet from the pocket, gently prying it open in one hand as her head bowed to read it.

It seemed too good to be true.

She didn't linger. She carefully folded the flyer again and slotted it neatly into the pocket again. The illustration on the front was simple, but there was a distinct expertise to it. It was nice.

She pressed on, moving for the edge of the scrapmetal spires and tracing a path along the edge of the heaped junk. Her free hand rested at her collar, fingers idly weaving into the chain of an amulet and holding it tight as she crossed into the shadow of the debris. The sheer mass of trash had astounded her even from a distance - but up close, it was nigh incomprehensible. There was more than she could process, the size exceeded what any normal person should be capable of contemplating. She shunted the thought aside. She would contemplate it later, from a distance where it was easier.

She heard them before she saw them - a pair of voices sparring back and forth. The two shared a subtle elation, a kind of mindless merriment as they exchanged quips. Joyous. Rounding an outcropping vehicle husk jutting from the base of the heap, she found two figures masked in the shadow of the mountain. One seemed occupied, but the other was staring right at her. Had the figure heard Valencia's approach? Impossible - the dirt and sand would not have betrayed her presence. Nonetheless, the flyer had told Valencia to expect two individuals - lo and behold, two individuals she was faced with.

She came to a stop twenty paces from the two, standing for a moment in silence. The two looked familiar, in a manner of speaking. One hot, energetic and masculine, the other cold, calm and feminine. At a glance, the two shared a stark duality.

She withdrew the flier again, holding it outstretched toward the two.

"You are looking for warriors." She stated plainly. Her eyes were hidden behind her lenses, but her lips curled into a cocky smirk. She gestured to herself with the flier in hand, a subtle flourish. "You found one."

She sheathed the flier in her robe again and brought a fist firmly against her abs, standing tall with her staff laid across her shoulders.

"Valencia Fire-Speaker, Fist of the Gods." She craned her neck right, peering at the two from behind her sunglasses.

 

[Berries]

[div class=fyurifauxtabs]Angela Tyranna | Twin Spikes | Edric Yuma | Collidias Rex [/div]
This had been a mistake.

Drenched with sweat from head to toe, Angie had been forced to take off her fur snow boots and trade for a pair of sandals which were highly uncomfortable but still better than overheating one bit more. The woman had lived in the cold, snow-ridden Whiteband territory for her entire life and the blistering sun was a new experience that she regretted with a passion. Her thick, insulating pants had been rolled up to her knees and her hair was tied up for once in a desperate attempt to cool herself off. Chugging water from a bottle that had once contained packed snow, Angie put a hand up to her eyes to try and see if her destination was near. The directions she had received from the locals were sub par so she didn't know her precise location, but she was good at reading maps so she knew where she was going in a general sense at least.

Her discomfort had managed to take her mind off of all her other concerns which was a welcome distraction. For the last five months she had been tirelessly searching for her lost travel companion to no avail, and in the midst of it all she had stumbled across an odd flier. Her desire for some purpose in her life was perhaps why she had decided to seek out these so-called moral mercenaries; too long had she wandered No Man's Land with no objective outside of plain and simple survival. The experience had been difficult, for sure, which was perhaps why she hadn't become bored with it before but now there was an itch at the back of her mind that couldn't be sated, and this flier had come at exactly the right time to persuade her.

Nonetheless, Angie was in the process of bitterly and completely regretting her decision. The heat, the sun, the glare and the burning ground were all her enemies. For awhile she had attempted to shield herself from the sun's rays using her shield to no great benefit, and the handle of her hammer was dragging across the dirt as if it shared her exhaustion. She no longer remembered how many days she had traveled to get here, but concluded rapidly that she had simply spent too many. The only reason why she hadn't turned back after the snow began to melt was because she was stubborn beyond reason and once she had started on her path she had simply not stopped.

Glancing down at the map she grasped in her sweating hand, Angie decided that she must be close to her destination. "About time," the woman growled unhappily, but seemed to gain some solace from the idea that her journey was nearly over. Her footsteps picked up a little bit of speed and she had untied the hammer from her bag so that she could carry it on her shoulder. After a few minutes more she saw two spikes in the distance accompanied by the silhouettes of two people along with a third also on the approach. Letting out a long sigh of mixed relief and exasperation, Angie paused for a second to look down at the map and back to the spikes to ensure that she had, indeed, found her destination.

Deciding that she had finally concluded her journey, and had calculated her time to make it to the destination nearly exactly, Angie continued her steps until she made it to the spikes at long last. She arrived as the other woman was just introducing herself, and for a few seconds Angie stared at her sunglasses before turning to look at the two sat underneath the spikes. Deciding that the other woman was done speaking - she had stopped listening after the word fire, for any person who willingly associated themselves with this blistering heat was Angie's bitter nemesis at the moment - Angie took her hammer and swung the pointed end down in the dirt. Taking a seat upon its blunt end and relishing the shade, Angie looked resentfully outward at the small gathering.

"Angela," she said with a cold voice that rivaled even the heat still beating down on the earth. "This better be worth my time."

It could be argued that years of living in isolation had taken a toll on her social skills.
[class=fyurifauxtabs] width:100%; text-align:center; background:none; box-shadow: 0 1px 2px rgba(34, 25, 25, 0.4); border-bottom:1px solid #fff; [/class]

 

[Damafaud]

Francis Ward
Street ==> Twin Spikes
Monologuing; Monologuing
Interaction: Edric Yuma
Mention: Berries Collidias Rex ​

It was a hot day.

A very hot day indeed. On the No Man's Land, on a cluttery old cart, a man endured the hot day with the help of a dusty cloak to protect him from the sun. A large piece of cloth covered the goods at the back of the cart. The man and the cart were towed by a horse. The horse had seen better days. As it was, the white of its fur had faded, stained with mud and dirt. Its hooves stepped forward one after another slowly, tired from the journey. There was no doubt, however, that it was once a horse of high quality. A suspicious man who showed not his face, towed by a horse unlikely to be owned by those of a lower standing. It was something that-

"Screw this cloak! " The man threw the hood off his head, revealing the face of a young man with pale blond hair on the top of his head. With the cloak off his face, his eyes narrowed as it was intruded by the glaring sunlight.

"It is hot under the cloak. Yet the sun is glaring without it. Oh, fate. How cruel can you be today to this man who has never travelled much under the sun before? No. Fate is not this cruel without a reason. Could it be?! Curse you, worshippers of the sun! Curse you! Curse you for asking for this much sunlight at this time of the year! Have you no mercy on people who don't worship the sun?! I will take this personally as a challenge, by praying to the spirit of water! Oh mighty spirit..."

The horse kept walking forward, unpertubed by the man's soliloquy. No one was sure which spirit of water he was praying to. Or if it even existed at the first place. Maybe he simply didn't understand it. God help the poor horse if he understood the man. As the man kept prattling on about the evil of worshippers of the sun and the humility of the spirit of water, a gust of wind blew a flyer to his face.

"Ah! Whose hand I accidentally touch without throwing a peeble into a body of water this time?" After uttering the nonsensical sentence, he took hold of the paper and read it. He felt silence for a while, to the relief of the horse if he could understand him. After a while, he slowly started again,

"Fate is this a test you have given, or an opportunity toward this man? Whose action let this flyer rest in front of my face, who has no home and is in need of a job? Is this an answer to my desire, or a test by the cruel fate who will tug this away when I have hope in mind? "

He felt silence again.

"No matter. Unknown Clan has been known as Moral Mercenaries in this land with no morality. Those that differ will tangle the threads of fate like a pocket will tangle a coil of rope. Onwards, Edmund my horse! To the Twin Spike! "

The horse turned to the left... and started waking at the same pace as before.

After getting lost for a while (He was supposed to keep moving straight instead of turning left) and asking around, he finally reached his destination, with his cart and Edmund. But he was shocked! Startled! Horrified! There were four people there instead of two! He sat silently for a moment on his cart. Then he suddenly stood, arms raised to the air.

"Of course! How foolish of me to assume that Sanya and Marcel are two people! How many people there are with the same name? How many people there are that share the same identity? Greetings, Sanyas and Marcel! I am Francis, a follower of Fate who is in need of a job! Now tell me-"

He stopped and pointed at Marcel, the only other man there.

"Are you really a Marcel or is there a mispelling for Marcella?"

 

[ithinkcat]

I R U L A N
_______________________________________________________​

Random street-folk stared silently at the sight of a woman limping down the sandy road alone. The woman wore clothes iconic to the Seishisaian region including a large conical straw hat that shielded all of her head and most of her body from the sun's blazing rays as well as hiding her eyes--adding to the mystery of the foreign newcomer. Openly strapped to her waist was a sheathed sword and her posture radiated competence. Her left arm was cradled in a crude cloth sling and more sweat soaked bandages could be seen wrapped around various other parts of her body including around the ankle of the leg she was limping on. Despite all her wounds, and an likely useless arm, the young woman had a large backpack slung over her right shoulder. It was big for her small stature and the fact that she couldn't wear both straps of it notably affected her stride by exacerbating her limp. Some couldn't help but think she was some hired goon or assassin and began to keep their glaces at her discrete--lest she decide to dispose of any witnesses. She stopped abruptly in her pace and turned her head to face an older man minding his own business tinkering away a top a metal stool next to one of the few bushes growing this close to Rudonia. Intense anxiety filled one onlooker after the next. What could this old man have possibly done to offend the lady and what was she going to do?

The woman dropped her backpack onto the ground, catching the attention of the old man. She drew her sword slowly, like water pouring, and walked towards the man. The blade gleamed all different colors in the bright sun. The man jumped out of his chair frightened. "What do ya think yer doing lady?!" he barked at her, but she didn't respond. She just kept walking towards him. Another man gathered some courage and began rushing over to stop her, but he was too late. The lady got right next to the elder paralyzed in fear, knelt down next to the bush, and began whispering to it.

Everyone was stunned with confusion. After she had privately spoken for a mere couple of seconds to the bush, she cleanly cut one of the bush's blossomed white flowers and re-sheathed her sword. She pulled a plain notebook out from her sleeve, placed the flower between two blank pages, and returned the notebook to its hidden pocket. Oblivious to the social climate, she looked up at the old man revealing soft brown eyes and a gentle smile. "I was surprised to see something so beautiful growing out it such harsh conditions, sir. When I saw it it gave me a morsel of hope. I made sure to minimize my damage to the bush so it wouldn't die, but I just could resist keeping one of its flowers as a reminder." she explained. She stood back up and introduced herself. "Excuse my manners, sir. My name is Irulan. I'm supposed to be meeting some people here about a job or sorts. You wouldn't happen to know where I can find the scrap towers would you? I'm new to this area."

The old man snapped out of his paralysis and gripped his chest tightly inhaling deeply to regain his breath. "Ya scared me half to death lady, er...Irutan." he said failing to get her name right. "Yeh, I know where tat is. Just take a right at the next street, keep heading down that way until you-" the man paused realizing how confusing the directions actually were when you weren't a native to those parts. "Tell ya what lady. You look like you could use some help carrying the heavy backpack. How about I give ya hand or two and walk you there?"

Irulan's cheeks flushed some as the rest of the pedestrians began to relax and move on with their business. "Oh, no sir. I'm capable of-" she tried politely rejecting him, purposefully omitting his name, before he cut her off.

"It's Rothalbert, and it's not about whether you can, lady. It's about me doin' the right thing. I can't very well see a woman as beat up as you and not help out." he reasoned with her.

Irulan was pleasantly surprised. She'd not met many people in a long time with manners like his. "That's very kind of you, sir. I suppose it would be rude to not accept your help, then." she replied. The man strapped her backpack on, letting out a grunt as he lifted it, and motioned for her to follow alongside. Irulan felt guilty, avoiding eye contact as the man made small talk about the town and exactly who put those two heaping towers of scrap in that spot. She didn't like feeling useless, even though she knew in her mind that her right leg was really sore and she probably should have stayed off of it for longer to let it recover. She just didn't have the money to lie around anymore. She politely listened to his chatter, or sometimes the occasional rambling, but spoke little herself.

Five back-in-the-day stories, three political opinions, six trivia, and five history lessons later they had finally reached the towers. Irulan took the opportunity to thank him cordially for his assistance but assured him that she could take it from there. She flung the backpack around and onto her one good shoulder, nearly tipping over from the weight imbalance, and rushed, as much as her condition allowed, over to a group of six. She had expected there to be some others responding to the flier but not so many already. She couldn't help but think she was actually late or something. Once she reached the group she dropped the pack to the ground once again, and took a moment to catch her breath. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was late. I swear it won't happen again. Please, I need this position." she pleaded in-between deep breathes.

 

[Aurum]

Anahi wasn't one to rush over to meet absolute strangers out in the open for such a sketchy job offer. She figured that if anyone else was crazy enough to also show up here, they would hide and bide their time until the right moment came, just like she had been doing. Of course, she didn't count on the fact that maybe not everyone was as cautious as her.
She had arrived early with her presence hidden, courtesy of her ern manipulation. Even animals and birds passed by without noticing the young woman sitting atop some scraps of trash, looking into her binoculars to spot the meeting place. She was 200 meters away from the base of the twin spikes, which was as close as she was willing to get with the lack of information she had about the people looking to hire her and other mercenaries. Also, her gut told her that getting any closer would be a bad idea. Her instincts whispered in her ears about strong people waiting under the shadows of the scrap towers; people strong enough to maybe even notice her here. No, anywhere close and she'd be seen.

Her general attitude towards the situation changed progresively with each new person approaching the supposed Moral Mercenaries. With the first one, she figured she must have been a newbie. The second person made her think that maybe she had slightly overreacted. By the third newcomer, she could only think of the fact that she had totally lost her chance to nonchalantly walk there without calling for too much attention.
'So, what now?', she wondered, her cheeks slightly flushed, worry evident in her eyes. If she stayed where she was for too much longer, maybe they would leave without her. She didn't want to have to follow them, it would only make her seem even more suspicious than she already felt. But she didn't know what to say once she reached them.

The former Symrustar sighed, pulled down her binoculars, and took a piece of paper from her right pocket. 'Looking for a new job or home?', the flyer asked, and she nodded. She had been alone for far too many months, and no matter where she went, she still didn't feel safe. Running away had felt like a good idea at first, but she was lonely. Lonely enough to want to go back to-- NO. She pinched her cheeks, and the soft pain brought her back to reality. She couldn't go back, she had nowhere to go but forward. Anahi took a deep breath, and determination gleamed in her eyes. 'Nowhere to go, but forward. C'mon you looser, you can do this', and with those beautiful words of encouragement, she stood up, deciding she would figure out what to say or how to act as soon as she got a little closer to--- Ah, another person.
She clumsily sat down again.

Anahi massaged the bridge of her nose for a little while. She could not believe how unprepared she was for a simple social gathering. She could kill anyone without being noticed without a problem. She could escape dangers and survive on her own, piece of cake. But meeting new people? Now that was a challenge where her skills simply did not suffice.

Alright, one more time. She would just get up, walk over there, and introduce herself. Simple as that. No complications, no flashy entrances.

It took her three minutes and thirty three seconds to arrive, and by the time she was there, she had already lost her initial surge of courage. She walked with purpose, her black hood up, her steps light but firm. She showed no emotion; not because she wanted to look badass or anything, she was just too scared to say anything at all. Anahi only spared the other mercenaries a quick, cold glance, and then reached into her pocket once more, taking out the recruitment flyer. The held it on her hand, making her intentions to join known without having to speak. She really, really wanted to turn around and run away.

 

[Kloudy]

The Blood Champion
(Kypher "Cheater" Hawthorne)

A hot day for some, but not for the infamous 'Cheater' it wasn't. Sure, the sun was beating down like Apollo himself had decided to blast the Earth with his fiery chariot, but Kypher had sheltered from his wrath by hiding in some travellers horse-drawn cart. Sneaking in had been easy, the cover of night and the thick tarp helped. Plus there was even some food to get by on, so the days spent travelling hadn't been rough. Where was he going? Kypher had no clue. Kypher didn't even know where he himself wanted to go, so long as it was far away from Phantomshade for a while then he didn't care.

Now, his travels seemed to have taken him to the 'No Man's Land' beyond his homeland's frontier. The man he was travelling with, albeit without the man's consent, seemed to talk a lot and once had mentioned a certain 'Unknown Clan' among his eccentrical ramblings. The twin spikes were their destination and Kypher wasn't particularly sure what he was supposed to do when they reached the end of their journey. He pondered killing the man and leading the horse elsewhere, but decided that doing so wouldn't really put him in a better position. No, he needed a guide, someone to teach him the ways of society and allow him to grow in knowledge. Kypher was well aware that his knowledge of the world was very limited due to his time in that Phantomshade hell hole. Perhaps he would just stick with this man and see where he went? If anything, at least Kypher was getting a better grip on language from the man's nonstop incessant talking, regardless of how annoying it still was. Falling asleep, Kypher began to dream of an endless plain of blood-drenched ground backset to a clear blue sky...

Some time later...

Kypher suddenly awoke, startled, to the sound of his travelling partner exclaiming his arrival loudly. Something about a 'Sanya and Marcel'... He'd also said his own name, so Kypher now knew that Francis was the person he was with. Never knew when random knowledge would come in handy, Kypher had long since learned. He supposed now was as good a time as any to emerge from his hiding place. Lifting the tarp that covered him carefully, Kypher sat up from his lying position so that he could see everyone that was around: 7 people by his count. They seemed to be somewhat armed and/or dangerous, but that didn't particularly phase him. Lazily picking up an apple from the cart, Kypher took a bite out of the fruit and gave those present a careless wave, ever mindful that he was technically stealing from Mr Francis sitting just a few metres away.

Damafaud (I hope you don't mind )

 

[Fayree]

AMALYA

​

Another day, another bar, another drink. I’m her heart of hearts Amalya knew that this couldn’t continue. She ran a black silk gloved finger aimlessly around the rim of her glass, staring into the effervescent amber liquid. It had all seemed so grand, these last couple of months- the planning, working out what needed to be done. Copying and packing and stashing cash in secret... but now. Now it all seemed so..so..meaningless. She has no friends, no family and no prospects beyond this drink and the next bartender.
With a sigh she picked up the glass and drained the last of the beer it contained, setting it back down with a thump. Leaning back in the chair her eyes narrowed at the ceiling, evens as wisps of long brown hair struggled free of the loose bun confining them. This wouldn’t do. She leaned forward, elbows resting on the wooden bar top as she signalled the waiter for another drink. She wasn’t a drifter, and she certainly wasn’t going to build her new life up as a day drunk. What she had to start thinking about was what she did have, not everything she didn’t.

No. She was no longer the top of her field. No. She wasn’t recognised as one of the greatest minds in Vanarin. No. She couldn’t trade in new and exotic poisons. Not openly anyway. But she did still have talent. And she did still have training. She could ply that knowledge out. Something of a forensic consultant perhaps. As the bartender came with the ordered beverage, she fished out the couple of bits it would cost, sliding them across the bar without removing her fingers. A smirk quirked up the corners of her mouth, as he eyes narrowed at he bartender. “Stereotypically, bartenders hear and know everything. Correct?”

The man behind the bar placed the glass down, nearly splashing beer foam on the sleeve of her white blouse. “In stories. But this ain’t no story. I don’t give a damn about your problems unless the problem is you can’t pay.” He looked her up and down before frowning, “Give ya one word of advice though. You look new to this life. Most e’ryone got a past and a problem out here and looking to get by. Careful who ya trust, and expect little in return for it.” He looked pointedly at the coins. With a defeated sigh she took her fingers off the coins which the bartender quickly swept into the pocket of his apron. “Thanks, for the advice,” she muttered dejectedly, reaching for the cool glass with one gloved hand. She heard a muttered ‘bah’ from the barkeep as he wandered away to serve other customers. Lifting the glass to drink she saw a folded paper tucked just behind where it had been sitting. Flicking it open she saw the design of two...spires? Reading it over she sat straighter. Reading it again she decided. She wanted to lend her expertise to a cause, well. Here was one.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-​

The meeting place was hot as hell. Trekking out through the midday heat was foolish by anyone’s standard. Snorting a little at herself she almost laughed. Foolish was her to a t. Foolish to trust an anonymous benefactor. Foolish to poke the bear. Foolish to have run with no plan. Foolish to put her fate in other hands. Again. But, here she was. At least those she cared about were safe.

Looking up from the monotonous tan of the ground, the spires came into sight. She frowned up at them, pushing sweaty tendrils of hair back from her face to do so. The artist who had drawn the flyers had been good- but hadn’t captured the levels of junk they contained. Or the precariousness of how such spires could have been formed or stay upright in such a manner. As she drew closer she tried her best to brush off the tan dust from her blouse and black trousers although really, they were going to be ruined after this trek if she were honest. She’d have to be careful to keep one set safely packed away as ‘good clothes’ just in case as she realised that this might end up the way all her clothes looked after a while.

Soon the outlines of a group of people came into view and she raised a hand in greeting as she approached. Of course she wasn’t the only one responding to such a flyer- although she was surprised to see a horse there. Fingers grazing along her belt she picked a vial and held it loosely in one hand. Moral Mercenaries or no she was still wary that this was as likely to kill her as accept her. Schooling her face to almost bored she sauntered up, taking a moment to relish the shade. “Seems I’m a little tardy, sorry for that. Amalya Adinova, at your service.” She gave a small half bow as she gave her name before scanning her surroundings. It seemed a motley bunch- someone from just about every walk of life but hey what’s that saying. Beggars and all that.

 

[Edric Yuma]

VanesaVanesa woke to a loud banging on her door. "VANESA! Wake up! It's already almost noon!"

Vanesa rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and turned in her bed to look at the clock. "There's still two whole hours before noon, Iolanda..." She moaned, covering her face with a pillow. She heard the door click and creak open but made no move to get up.

"Ah!" Vanesa jolted in surprise as the pillow she had been holding to her head was snatched away, revealing a stern, middle-aged woman standing over her. Natural light from the small rectangular window on her ceiling flooded into the cool climate of her underground room, forcing her to squint. "My pillow! Give it back!"

The woman named Iolanda frowned down at the complaining young teen, who was currently in the process of searching the air for any sign of her pillow. "Vanesa, you can't sleep in today. We're having visitors. Jorell just left to pick up Marcel and Sanya's new recruits. You have to get dressed and look presentable."

"Why does that matter to me? Just give them a tour of the facility and send them away on their opening mission or whatever. I can sleep in, I won't bother them, everyone will be happy."

"Sanya asked that everyone be present to welcome them. She also specifically asked me to make sure you were present. She knows you too well."

"...fine." After much muttering and complaining, Vanesa got up out of her bed. "Alright, I'm ready."

"You are most certainly not ready, young woman! Your hair is all over the place! And what is that shirt? Are you trying to hold up your breasts with twine?" Iolanda put her hands on her hips. "I don't know what girls these days think they can wear, but you are absolutely not wearing that in front of our guests.

"They're called spaghetti straps, Iolanda. And it's not like I'm going to be assaulted while all you guys are here." Vanesa reached up to the coat rack next to the bed and slipped into a thin black jacket, then grabbed a brush and began sorting through her clumps of hair. "I'll come out in a second."

Vanesa watched as Iolanda looked around her room. It wasn't very big; it was only long enough to fit her bed and wide enough to fit her desk. Her desk was cluttered with blueprints and pencils; she had spent all night designing and sketching her idea of a more convenient, Ern-efficient hovercraft. The one the clan currently used was very old and inefficient, but, without the required parts, they were unable to give it the upgrades and replacements it needed.

"More sketching, huh?" Iolanda muttered. "Shame you're more into this than learning how to heal. You would have been an excellent healer. Must be that damned fatherly influence." She started for the door. "Speaking of your father, he's still in the workshop. See to it he is aware of the visitors today and is dressed properly."

"Yes, ma'am."

Vanesa waited and listened. As soon as Vanesa could no longer hear the sound of Iolanda's boots on the stone floor, Vanesa dropped her brush, tore off her jacket, grabbed her blueprints, and bounded down the hallway to the left. Upon reaching the familiar stone entrance to the workshop, she slowed to a brisk walk and breathlessly strode in.

The workshop was massive; Vanesa remembered her father telling her it had once been a hanger for vehicles. After identifying an echoing banging sound in the back of the workshop, Vanesa raced to the back, humming happily. Her most favorite place to be in the whole clan base was the workshop. She found him hunched over a large anvil, hammering away at a smoldering red-hot axehead. "Dad!" Upon hearing his name, he stopped hammering and turned around. The majority of his face was covered by a giant pair of rounded goggles, but when he saw Vanesa, he took them off, exposing his glowing happy smile. His apron was covered in soot, but Vanesa could make out the small name tag on his breast pocket: NEVEN.

"Vanesa!" The mechanic ambled over, embracing Vanesa in the familiar smell of soot and hickory wood. "What is my precious daughter doing up so early in the morning?"

Vanesa giggled. "Iolanda wants us to get ready for some visitors, but that can wait." She broke the embrace, beaming up at her father and gesturing to her blueprints. "Look at this! I designed a new, more economic approach to the hovercraft's coolant system...."

SANYASanya wasn't exactly a fan of meeting new people, but Marcel seemed to be having a lot of fun as they stood next to each other watching people arrive. "Watch your language," he whispered seriously, leaning in to Sanya, "That woman's Renwhirl." He then proceeded to wave at the woman named Valencia. "Hello! You've come to the right place. You do seem to be a very able fighter." Collidias Rex

Sanya rolled her eyes. "Suck-up," She muttered under her breath. No sooner had Marcel finished addressing Valencia another woman came. As cocky as the first one had seemed to Sanya, the second, named Angela, was even worse. She had a noticeably aggressive air about her, and her first words made it clear she'd rather be anywhere else but here. Sanya almost pointed out that she was never required to come here, but she decided to keep her mouth shut for Marcel's sake. He was still beaming even after Angela's rude announcement.

"Nice to meet you too, Angela! You are from Whiteband, yes? Sorry you had to brave this terrible heat in No-Man's Land. We will be in a much cooler place in no time." Marcel grinned. Berries

Another person approached, this time with a huge horse-drawn cart. Sanya detected a sinister presence from beneath the cloth of the cart, and she knew Marcel could feel it too. The man himself, however, seemed completely oblivious, and Marcel didn't let on anything was wrong. At the question, Marcel let out a chuckle. "Young man, you're not thinking very properly! I am Marcel, short for Marcel, that is Sanya, and those two over there are like you: travelers guided by our clan's flyer! If I may ask: what is your name?" Damafaud

Before the man had a chance to respond, a breathless woman emerged, plopping a rather large backpack on the ground. She seemed heavily wounded, and was apologizing rather profusely for someone who was on time. Sanya smiled. Finally, someone who seemed intelligent and kind! Sanya held up a hand to stop her talking, and in a gentle voice said, "Don't worry. You're not late, and it'd certainly be understandable if you were with wounds like that. When we head to the clan base, Iolanda can get you fixed up." ithinkcat

Marcel gave a surprised glance at Sanya. "What?" She asked in a low voice, challenging.

"Nothing... I've just don't usually hear you actively try and talk to new people before."

Sanya huffed. "Clearly you don't know me well enough. If they are nice, I'll talk."

Marcel smirked, and the two watched as a fifth person approached. Had she not been looking forward, Sanya never would have detected the woman's arrival. She watched as the woman wordlessly broadcasted her intent on joining, then sighed and lightly punched Marcel in the shoulder. "Another weirdo, this one's yours."

Marcel turned to the woman with a delighted smile. "Symrustar? I could barely detect your presence. Awesome to have you here. One day your skills could save a clanmember's life. Would you be willing to enlighten us with your name?" Aurum

Marcel then looked back at the whole group. "So - welcome to the Unknown Clan! We might as well begin introductions. Oh by the way - Mr. Cart guy - you seem to have a stowaway eating some of your fruit." Marcel pointed down at the now uncovered cloth where a man sat, eating an apple. "Unless you're trying to join the clan yourself?" Marcel asked, addressing the man directly.

Sanya observed the man. He radiated a chaotic nature: it didn't seem like he was there with evil intent, but it seemed as if he could be unpredictably violent. With the way he looked, he was likely from another No-Man's Land or from the Phantomshade region. Sanya decided he could stay but kept a close eye on him. Kloudy

Before Marcel continued with introductions, Sanya spotted another woman approaching from afar and waved back. As she got closer, Sanya saw her dressed in what used to be professional attire. She lazily walked in, an attitude Sanya could respect. Upon her introduction, however, Sanya turned to Marcel. He returned the look: they seemed to be thinking the same thing. The Amalya Adinova?

Marcel burst out laughing and slapped Sanya on the back. "I don't know if I should be impressed or scared that you've managed to recruit this many impressive women with that flyer of yours."

Sanya grinned back. "Definitely scared, if you weren't already."

Marcel turned back to Amalya and returned the bow. "What a pleasant surprise! Our clan laboratory has been empty for quite some time now, if that is what you came here for. Otherwise, your skills in this clan of mercenaries are greatly welcome." Fayree

Marcel straightened and stood there for a moment, dusted cloak billowing as the wind picked up. A black ring gleamed from his right index finger as he scratched his chin, observing the group that had gathered. After the brief moment, he smiled at them all and clasped his hands together. "I am absolutely astounded by the talent I see here today - thank you all for coming! Let me go ahead and introduce myself. My name is Marcel Riedl, and I am the leader of the Unknown Clan. I have personally never been a part of a faction - call me a wanderer, if you will. This here is -"

"Sanya Savit." Sanya stepped forward and gave the group what she hoped was a warm smile. "Formerly of the Wuflyn Faction but also more of a wanderer like Marcel. As you may already know, we have a reputation of being 'Moral Mercenaries,' and we'd like to keep it that way. Our clan is more of a loose organization of people; we all have different roles and come from different backgrounds. Recently, however, a couple of people have not been as effective-" Sanya gave a pointed glare at Marcel- "in their respective roles, and we are in need of more income. So here's the deal: you all work on jobs for us and get fifty percent of the pay from it. The other half goes to funding the clan's expenses such as food or weaponry. In return, the clan provides housing, food, and whatever weapons and resources we have in our storage are for you to use. Our base also comes with other benefits, but we can discuss those later."

Marcel winked at the group. "We also have some alcohol for all you happy-hour people."

As Sanya was talking, a large hovercraft pulled up alongside the shaded region of the twin spikes. It had an octahedral shape and was about thirty yards wide and twenty feet tall; at the bottom of the craft were glowing blue thrusters as the hovercraft landed, and the top of the octahedral craft bent inwards into a ring of windows that served as the cockpit. Its outer metallic shell was tainted yellow and brown from all its rust and kicked up dust, but a faint outline of spray-painted lettering could still be made out: "ZH-193."

"Behold!" Marcel exclaimed, walking over to the hovercraft. "The one and only vehicle we have: a salvaged Zenobian hovercraft from the inter-faction war!" Marcel reached out and pat the side of the hovercraft. "They don't make these things like they used to: now, it's all about efficiency and sleekness, but this one was for storage capacity. That way we can all ride in it!"

With a sharp hiss, the backside of the hovercraft began to open, and the door to the back of the craft opened outwards to form a bridge up into the hovercraft. With a vibrating thud, the door touched the earth and a muscular man of dark complexion walked out, waving and smiling. Sanya and Marcel waved back. "Meet Jorell! He's mute, so don't expect him to talk much. He's been with us for a long time, however, and is a great help within the clan."

When Jorell reached Marcel, they exchanged a brief friendly handshake, and then Jorell strode forward to bow to all seven of the new individuals present. Sanya smiled; Jorell was always very amicable with anyone he met. "So!" Marcel spread his hands out among the group. "This is all we have for now. If you are still interested, hop into the hovercraft and feel free to ask Sanya and I questions as we take you to our humble abode. Our hovercraft is also fitted with some insanely wicked air conditioning thanks to our two awesome mechanics back at base, so that's a plus." Marcel almost directly spoke to Angela. Berries

"Jorell, if you will, please help the man with the cart and stowaway lift the cart up into the craft." Jorell nodded, then walked over to the cart with his arms out, indicating he could help if it was needed. Damafaud

Sanya had already started for the hovercraft. Whether or not the recruits decided to join was of no concern to her. She hadn't exactly told the full truth when she said the clan needed more income. Sure, it would be nice to have more people working for the clan, but if they really needed money, everyone within the clan was fully capable of taking jobs. They just chose not to. This was Marcel's project; Sanya wasn't exactly sure why, but one day Marcel suddenly insisted on recruiting more people into the clan. He claimed it was due to shortage of funds, but she wasn't so sure. This wasn't the first time Marcel had said one thing and intended another.

Objectives Describe your character's thoughts as they see everyone and observe Marcel and Sanya. What are their first impressions? Also respond if one of them addressed your character directly. Or don’t. Get in the hovercraft! I'd rather your character do the majority of his or her dialog in the hovercraft, as that allows for plot progression and dialog at the same time. Converse! Once your character is in the craft, ask as many questions as your character wants. Feel free to make collaborative or single-paragraph posts after your initial one if you are responding to someone else's question or want to ask your own. (If you didn't know, collaborative posts are when two or more people DM each other and roleplay there, ultimately creating a single post for the actual thread. This makes it easier to have fast and short replies.) By the way: In the "Others" Extra page I have posted the face claims for several of the NPCs you will or have encountered. I will also be updating it with story summaries in the future.

 

[Fayree]

The ease of the people around her, well, of most of them was clear and it looked as though she’d just missed the introductions. But, Amalya guessed that she’d be aquatinted before too much longer because they seemed to be miles from anywhere. She managed to arch an eyebrow at their reaction to her name- she should just be a nobody.... unless she’s known as a drunk... Doing her best to stay nonchalant she sunk into one hip and nodded, still fingering the potion clutched in one hand. She was about to reply when the stance of the man infront of her changed. Rather she closed her mouth and waited to hear what she imagined was going to be some grandstanding.

The first to speak was the man. Marcel. He seemed to be the whimsy or flair of the pair. Big words to say very little really. The girl then stepped in. Sanya. The girl with the plan. Amalya listened carefully, noting the glances thrown about. She did wonder at the moral part of the name- after all what was ‘moral’ and who decided it when it’s such a subjective term. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath she pushed it from her mind. Here was a group promising something amazing- with pay- and perhaps if she hoarded enough she could use them to gather resources on whomever it was that ruined her old life. Maybe one day she could go back to it.

Breaking herself from her reverie she gave a wry smile at the mention of happy hour. Maybe her reputation as a day drinker had preceded her. As Marcel spoke of the hovercraft like a showman announcing a show she gave it a quick eye over. She was no mechanic but it had definitely seen better days. But it also looked like it had seen some love too and what other choice did she have? Certainly none that gave her lodging and food. ‘Or a lab’ she thought wryly.

As Jorell bowed to them all, she reflexively gave a small bow back. An old habit of a more formal time. Looking around she saw a bunch of ragtag strangers all hoping for clean slate. A new chance. Just like her she realised belatedly. And if she wanted a new life, and to eventually get help to refund her old one, she was going to have to make friends. Her eyes alighted on the girl with the bandages, her heavy looking bag on the ground beside her. Twirling the vial nervously in her hand she dangled on the string of indecision. The girl might need help as she was clearly injured, but she had got it here so maybe asking to help her would seem condescending and rude? She sheathed the potion back to her belt and rubbed her hand over her face. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been nervous before, she’d always known she was among the elite in a room. But now, well, why should that change.

Wrapping her old confidence around her like a favourite jacket she wandered closer. The girl was dressed like she was from Seishisai, and her blade was almost definitely their make. “Hi, pleasure to meet you. I’m Amalya but then, you’ve caught that,” she gave a small self conscious cough before continuing, “mind my intrusion but do you need a hand carrying your pack?” Her eyes lingered on the bandages as one hand gestured at the pack and the other fidgeted with the handle of her own bag. ithinkcat

 

[Collidias Rex]

Valencia Fire-Speaker
​

A ragtag band if there ever was one.

Renwhirl wasn't exactly the most 'social' of clans, and Valencia couldn't pick out the attire of the new arrivals, but a small number jumped out at her, courtesy of weaponry alone. While the next arrival and cart-bound duo didn't betray much to a cursory glance, Valencia knew a Seishisai at a glance. She'd heard plenty enough tales of them during her childhood, and she found her eyes wandering for the famed blade.

She stood quietly, waiting as other warriors arrived in turn. She had made a point of standing forward of the group - she'd arrived first, and sought to make herself known. She'd assessed a 'comfortable distance' to stand from Sanya and Marcel, and she'd pushed a few feet closer than that distance.

More faced and garbs she didn't recognize - until a dark figure made her presence known. Valencia felt a breath of tension wash through her she stared at the figure's bow. Syrumstar. She knew Renwhirl had fought alongside the Syrumstar during the war, but she'd also heard cautionary tale of turncoats assassins. She knew Renwhirl veterans who feared not bullet nor blade - but each and every one of them spoke warily of the Syrumstar and their arrows.

The woman was ... fascinating, in something of a morbid way. Like Valencia, she was tall, dark and had the body of an athlete - but where Valencia knew herself to be bold and bright, she saw subtlety and dark in the newcomer. Where Valencia's robes were a fiery red and white, the stranger wore an almost earthen green and black. Where Valencia's hair was white and tied high, the stranger's was black and braided behind her. The curve of the bow reminded her, uncomfortably, of her staff - but bent at odd angles, twisted into a weapon that dealt death from afar. She stared, transfixed. What kind of distorted mirror had she gazed into for such an alien yet familiar face to stare back at her?

Fate at work again? Valencia hooked a finger over the bridge of her glasses, tipping the lenses down to look over the rims at the woman, openly meeting her eyes for a long moment. Seemingly reaching some conclusion, she nodded firmly to the woman as she neared, before pushing up her glasses again and returning her attention to Marcel.

Marcel seemed a pleasant sort, and Valencia found herself taking a shine to his enthusiasm. He was confidant - or simply pretending to be - and he seemed to pick out details quickly. He was perceptive, and it made sense that he would be in charge of recruiting operations. Such a keen eye was a gift indeed, and it was assuring to see such a gift being used to its fullest.

Sanya was harder to pick out. She seemed ... not reserved, but simply unwilling to do too much speaking. Perhaps she wasn't blessed with a silver tongue or gift of the gab, as her companion seemed to be.

When the vehicle lumbered closer, Valencia took the opportunity to remove her glasses entirely and stare for a moment. She ... hadn't exactly been in many vehicles, save a simple cart. Sure, she'd seen a few hovercraft in her time, but been in on herself? Definitely a new experience. Then again - this entire situation was a new experience. Why else was she out here? She needed something new, and this was it.

She inhaled a lungful of courage and marched up the ramp, shooting a short wave to Jorell as she passed and immediately picking a spot nearest the door. Act like you belong, and all that carry-on. That said, the interior of the craft was uncomfortably familiar, and she was struck with a sudden coldness. The interior of the craft reminded her of the dep-tanks back home. She shuddered. Ice water and silence were the last thing she needed now. The elders had assured her for the longest time that a numb body and empty mind meant an open vessel, and an only an open vessel would freely connect with the gods. But in light of everything she'd been through in the last month ... perhaps it wasn't best to place too much faith in the elders.

She wrapped herself in her robe and slipped her glasses into a pocket, turning her gaze to the doorway as the other recruits trailed - keeping an eye out for the Syrumstar in particular.

Mentions: Aurum ithinkcat

 

[Damafaud]

Francis Ward
Twin Spikes Ground ==> Hovercraft
Monologuing; Moving Crates
Interaction: Edric Yuma Kloudy
Mention: -​

Kyper "Cheater" Hawthorne
Twin Spike Ground
Eating apple​

"Oh by the way - Mr. Cart guy - you seem to have a stowaway eating some of your fruit."

Francis turned his head abruptly. Stowaway?! His fruits?! Inexcusable! Marcel was right. There he was, a white haired young man, slowly munching away at an apple. It was not the out of place white hair that drew his attention. Not even the sinister air around the young man. The fact that he had rode in his cart without permission was also ignored. No, Francis attention was drawn to the apple on the young man's hand. The half bitten red apple.

"My apple! My precious red apple I had bought from some pedddler three days ago! Do you know what you have done?! I don't even like the apple that much nor did Edmund like them, but my lack of sentimental feeling for the apple for the last three days! How can you be so cruel and eat an apple I have planned to throw away at a later date for the sole reason that I don't like them? How do you plan to make up for this?! "

His anger, no matter how you look at it, was not justified. If he was going to throw it later, why would someone eating them be a problem?

Nevertheless, Francis looked furious. His breath was heavy. His chest, even covered with his cloak, puffed up and down visibly. His fists were clenched, and if it was not for everyone listening to what made him angry, it would be as if the white haired young man had offended Francis greatly.

Kypher gazed lazily at the loud postulating man as he took another bite of the succulent apple. 'They sure didn't grow 'em quite like this in Phantomshade.' he thought to himself absentmindedly, effectively ignoring Francis' cries of outrage. Was the small lithe man concerned about his nonconsensual benefactor's angered mood? No. If he wanted to fight, he'd lose very quickly, and Kypher doubted the others cared enough to come detain the mischievous stowaway either. They all didn't really seem the type, and Kypher had spent nearly his whole life reading people's expressions and body language. It helped when trying to predict if someone was about the randomly attack, as was a common occurrence where he was from.

Unfortunately, the annoyingly dressed man was still wittering on about his precious apple and it was growing rather tiresome. Kypher was a patient man, but he had been listening to this Francis' eccentric flairs of grandeur for the entire trip and it was getting old quickly. Narrowing his eyes to convey his annoyance, Kypher quickly took several bites and completely devoured the entire apple, core and all. Still somewhat hungry, Kypher shrugged with indifference at Francis, "Stop talking. There ain't no apple to complain 'bout anymore."

Francis blinked. The man had eaten the apple clean, down to the core and seeds right in front of him. The same apple whose fate he had lamented. Several emotions passed through his face, as if he was unsure how to react. Then he broke into laughter.

"Amazing, good sir! How can one feel hunger when there is food never exist at the first place? Without an apple, no one can worry about apple! Marvelous, marvelous! Come join me in this clan! A stranger as great as you will be be a good companion! This man name is Francis! And I am always thinking properly!"

He turned to Jorell, who, with hand stretched, offered his help.

"It is good to get help here and now! Edmund carried a lot of explosives in his cart. Without the help of strong armed earth spirit, it would take hours to move it all. Yes, I beseech you, and you, stranger, to help this man moving his wares!"

As Francis rambled on with his speech, he undid the heavy tarp that covered a large portion of the cart. Apart from a basket half filled with fruits, the crates and barrels on the what was an old rickety cart gave off an ominous feeling. Barrels of gunpowder. 'Grenade', 'Mine', arsenals that would impact the tide of a battle greatly with their explosive offensive power were all stacked neatly on the cart.

"Ah, do not touch the crates with 'Mine' written on them! They are sensitive to pressure! Again, do not touch them! "

Francis started to lift a 'Mine' crate himself, heaving them on one of his shoulder. Despite his lanky build, his hands were very sturdy. The crate was placed firm on his shoulder, practically unaffected by the movement during its transport. Francis moved in large slow steps, letting the ball and tip of his foot to first touch the ground before he proceeded to take another step. Eccentric as he was, he was still someone in the explosive industry. Taking care of them on daily basis was a part of his job.

After he put the crate on one corner of the hovercraft, Francis relaxed his shoulder. With how hovercraft moved, he needed to fasten the crates to the cart once the hovercraft started.

He moved outside to take another crate.

 

[Kloudy]

The Blood Champion
(Kypher "Cheater" Hawthorne)

Kypher gave the man a strange, almost confused look at his reaction to having lost an apple. It... hadn't been what he'd expected at least. That fact alone left Kypher feeling somewhat unsettled. He could usually predict what someone was going to say or do just by observing them and getting a read on them, but this Francis was too unpredictable to the point that Kypher had no clue what he'd do next. And that meant he was dangerous.

Perhaps in a swift turn of ironic fate, Kypher's eyes widened considerably as the tarp was pulled clean from the cart. Barrels upon barrels of explosives, or so Francis claimed. The Phantomshade dweller had a very keen nose and had smelled the gunpowder easily enough, but had simply assumed it was for some rudimentary gun or something. Francis seemed to like old fashioned things, what with the horse and cart. Upon learning that he'd been living next to enough gunpowder to blow the whole area sky high, despite his many long years of veteran fighting experience, even Kypher knew that there was little he could do to save himself if the cart suddenly caught alight. He eyed Francis' cheery expression warily. 'This bastard's probably the most dangerous out of the lot...' he thought, realising that he should probably get out the cart very, very soon. It didn't help that the man didn't seem completely all there. Hell, Kypher himself wasn't either, but this guy was literally a loose cannon, just with a bigger boom.

Sighing and shaking his head, Kypher placed his hands on the side of the cart and flipped up into a handstand before turning over again and landing on the ground directly beside the man named Jorell. Kypher gave off no indication that his impressive feat of gymnastics had in any way been difficult and looked the larger man beside him up and down. He didn't seem like he'd be an issue. When Francis tried to 'beseech' him for help, Kypher simply ignored the man and walked away. Although he was muscled, Kypher was more suited to lifting his own weight around and delivering hard and fast strikes, not lifting heavy stuff. Besides, he didn't really feel like helping the crazy demolitionist.

Kypher hadn't really been listening to a word that Marcel had been saying either. The man seemed to be more talk than action, although he did have sharp senses too. 'Perhaps he's the deadly-fool type, like me?' he wondered to himself, rubbing the back of his head seemingly absentmindedly. In reality, he was sizing up everyone currently present, trying to discern who would be a problem when a fight broke out. The woman called Sanya seemed to be the polar opposite of Marcel, the type to find more meaning in actions over words. They usually tended to act without warning or even reason, but Kypher wasn't overly worried. He had dealt with those types before too. He would have continued identifying threats, but then a certain something appeared that completely blew his mind.

A hovercraft! The young man's eyes widened considerably, the left bloodshot one even twitching slightly, and his jaw dropped in an almost comic fashion. Kypher had seen horse drawn carts and had been told of cars and other vehicles of transportation. This, this was something completely new altogether. A vehicle that levitated?! It was inconceivable! Kypher had never heard of Zenobia or whatever war everyone was referring to, but this was absolutely ridiculous. So technology had advanced this far whilst he'd been stuck in the unprogressive Phantomshade clan? Still marvelling at the wondrous construct of modern engineering, Kypher ran swiftly into the back of the hovercraft and began inspecting every inch of the vehicle.

Damafaud Edric Yuma

 

[ithinkcat]

I R U L A N
_______________________________________________________​

Relief washed over Irulan when she heard that she had made it on time. Maybe she had gotten lucky and found a good clan to join on the first try. Sure, she had heard the rumors that they were known as the moral mercenaries, but she had suspected the moniker was ironic if nature, like a humble person bragging about just how amazingly humble they were. Things seemed to be looking up, but she couldn't help but feel that she had failed to make a great first impression. First, she had mistakenly misread the situation. Lacking acute judgment and perception was unacceptable if she was going to protect her new clans-men's lives. Second, she had showed up to recruitment basically already in need of medical care. The woman name Sanya assured Irulan that she could get some healing back at the clan from a woman named Iolonda, but Irulan knew her wounds would still take time to recover fully from, and that meant she wasn't in peak condition if they needed her to do a job for them soon. Anything less that perfection and she could end up right back where she had been before meeting there.

The thought of it twisted her heart. Irulan placed a hand over her mouth to mask her attempt at holding her emotions back. She had already made a terrible first impression, and randomly balling her eyes out in front of everyone was sure to make them question her emotional stability. Irulan inhaled deep, let it out slowly, and regained her composure. She needed to steel herself.

Irulan had lost focus on the events unfolding around her, but after she had pulled herself together she fixed her smile and looked to find that several more new recruits had arrived. She couldn't help but notice the trend among them. Each of them had an aura of confidence to them, each one unique in how they displayed it. She could tell every single one of them knew what it was they wanted, and Irulan was the same. Her smile was more genuine now. She was going to make sure she got what she desired and keep the others safe as they chased their own desires.

It seemed as if there would be no other recruits. None that Marcel and Sanya were willing to wait for at least. Good thing Irulan had been on time. The two of them made their official introductions to the recruits as their ride pulled up. Irulan had seen one other hover-ship like this one before, though it had been derelict for some time. She was impressed that this clan was able to get one working and hold onto it without someone else stealing it in the night. Despite the fact that it was obviously being held together at the seams, one of the old ones in operable condition could've fetched a very high price on a Phantomshade auction. Irulan was excited to board the craft and see what it was like on the inside. She could only imagine what sort of contraptions it took to make a giant metal vessel repel the ground itself.

Before Irulan could go grab her belongings, one of the female recruits approached her and introduced herself a second time as Amalya. Though the woman looked unkempt, making her look older than Irulan, it gave her an air of wisdom to her. Amalya was polite also as she offered to carry Irulan's pack. "Oh, well...I guess I could take you up on the offer." Irulan replied. As much as she really didn't like feeling helpless and wanted to decline Amalya's generosity, she didn't want to seem rude or ungrateful. "Sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier. I'm Irulan. If you ever need help with something don't hesitate to ask. Especially since you're giving me a helping hand. Ooh, maybe I could cook you a meal tonight as payment. What sort of dishes do you like?" Irulan was quite shocked to find herself being so talkative after just meeting someone. Either she was more desperate for a connection with someone than she thought she was ready for, or Amalya effectively had a friendly, approachable essence to her at the moment. The former worried Irulan if it were true.

But then all attention was drawn to the two clowns performing with a cart as their stage. Irulan couldn't get a good read on the apparent owner of the cart. He obviously loved talking, or perhaps broadcasting was a more descriptive word for the man's verbal fits. Maybe he wasn't always that way and he was just infuriated at someone stowing away in his cart and eating his precious food. The stowaway had pure white hair and looked young like Irulan, maybe younger. His interaction certainly had a boyish rebelliousness to them. She held back a chuckle with her good hand as she imagined him to be some powerful soldier refusing to eat the vegetables on his plate because they were yucky. The two were like a father and son; the man was right to scold the boy. As entertaining as their display was, and stranger when the man, Francis, did a one-eighty somehow befriending the stowaway at the end, Irulan felt a little guilty at her characterization of the young man. People don't just stowaway for the fun of it. Usually it because of a difficult or desperate situation. 'Perhaps he's looking for something similar.' she thought.

Then Francis revealed the stockpile of ordinance in his wagon. Irulan's eyes widened in fear. How reckless was that man? In temperatures this high, in a ricity wooden cart, and on these pothole filled roads? Irulan leaned over to Amalya and spoke in a hushed volume. "Perhaps we should board after the...volatiles have been carefully loaded." After saying that Irulan took a few steps back from the vicinity and waited for the explosives to be loaded. When they had been transferred safely she finally boarded the hovercraft, took a seat as far from the cargo as she could, and motioned to Amalya to take a seat next to her.

Fayree - Kloudy - Damafaud - Edric Yuma

 

[Berries]

[div class=fyurifauxtabs]Angela Tyranna | Twin Spikes | Edric Yuma | Collidias Rex [/div]​

Angela seemed to immediately get annoyed at Marcel's upbeat response to her cold entry and her eyebrows steadily furrowed as he continued to speak. However, as soon as he mentioned that there was the possibility of a cooler place her eyes slowly lost their chill and a hopeful, pleading look entered her face. Weeks of traveling in the heat without enough money to stay anywhere with air-conditioning and now there was the possibility of finally putting the infernal heat to an end. She didn't know what to make of his grin - was he teasing her? Was this a trick designed to catch her off-guard? Was this some sort of mind-game-weapon? Despite her misgivings, Angie's demeanor improved immensely from that point onward as she attentively listened to what Marcel and Sonya said from there on out though she didn't venture to make any more comments of her own. Her eyes occasionally flickered towards the other people who had assembled though she didn't see anything even remotely familiar. She was totally out of touch with any of the other clans except her own so didn't know much about the miscellaneous skills and weapons they bore, and still wasn't feeling exactly social so she wasn't taking names or introductions into account either.

The man who arrived in the cart with the outburst of unnecessarily loud exclamations annoyed her, and when another man was revealed under the tarp it served to lump the annoyance onto the both of them. The unnaturally pale one with the weird red eye caught the blunt of Angie's judgement, but she continued to hold her silence and just observe. She had continued to sit on the end of her hammer though she occasionally shifted to stay out of the sun, and had pretty much faded into the background of the gathering without spoken comments or particularly making a scene out of herself. Instead she continued to judge from afar, which was unfortunate for the others because her initial judgments tended to be negative and long-lasting, even if they weren't based off of anything but her mild annoyance.

When the hovercraft arrived she eyed it for a few seconds curiously; she had been out of touch with technology for awhile and hadn't seen anything of the like recently, not to mention that big technology was somewhat uncommon in Whiteband territory anyway due to their low amounts of Ern. Her interest wasn't peaked in the vehicle itself, and instead she was much more looking forward to the rumored air-conditioning it had. She had zoned out of the rest of Marcel's words about the craft, including its pilot, and instead stared, fixated, on the opening of the craft and already was imagining her escape from the blistering hot sun. She conveniently missed the comment about Jorell's muteness which would doubtless put her in a tough spot later but her mind was totally occupied. When Marcel seemed to be addressing her she reluctantly turned her eyes back towards the man and at his words her face finally broke out into the wide smile that had been hiding ever since the air-conditioning was first mentioned.

Bolting into the hovercraft with a beaming smile at Jorell, she relished in the air conditioning as it washed over her. Her happiness was evident and it was a good few minutes before she regained her composure enough to talk to some of the other people on board. Her mood had been restored and she was now in the mood for conversation so she simply located the nearest person to her. It happened to be the fire-woman who had arrived before her at the gathering, but she hadn't caught her name. "Uh- who are you again?" Angie questioned Valencia, her awkwardness overcome by the sheer force of her intent to create conversation. "And how'd you end up here?" She added, realizing that her initial question wasn't much to converse off of. Angie's eyes flickered briefly back over the others in the aircraft before returning her gaze to Valencia intently. From her behavior so far, it was clear that Angie's moods were fickle and that she was quick to snap to judgement, so perhaps it was best to tread a bit carefully around her.

 

[Edric Yuma]

MARCELMarcel boarded the ship last, thinking it would be courteous to allow the others to enter the cooler space first. He laughed a little when he saw Sanya go in first. She had never exactly been a fan of frivolous conversation; Marcel fondly recalled the time when she had walked away from a potential suitor because he was "too friendly and too fake."

The inside of the hovercraft was spacious. On either side of the craft were long, padded benches for its riders to sit on. In the center of the craft, a single vent from the ceiling blasted cold air into the room. Two thick metal poles bordered both sides of the vent, holding up the ceiling. A closet-like storage area on the left side was filled with assault rifles, and in the back center, a short stairway led up to the cockpit where Jorell and Sanya now sat. The room itself was rather dark; glowing green low-power lights ran alongside the bottom and top corners of the walls. There were only two small, circular windows on the left and right center walls.

Mr. Cart guy, after some bantering with a much quieter white-haired man, had just finished fastening his explosive crates in the far right corner, stacking them in a neat pile -- most of the rest of the group decidedly sat away from the pile. Amalya seemed to have begun a conversation with Irulan, albeit one with an awkward start. Marcel amused himself watching their interactions; if there was one thing he learned in his years of interacting with fighters, it was that strong fighters had poor conversations.

But Marcel had to applaud Amalya for even starting a conversation. Others, like Valencia and the Symrustar, had decided to wander on board without saying a word. Valencia was also eyeing the Symrustar in a weird way, so Marcel was relieved that the woman named Angela struck up a conversation with Valencia. The Symrustar didn't exactly seem comfortable with social interaction -- likely due to her trained instincts -- and Marcel hoped she could warm up to the others without feeling wary.

Once everyone had loaded onto the craft, the back door retracted and shut, releasing the sounds of spewing and hissing air as the pressured gas tanks worked to ensure the door stayed in place. The floor beneath the group rumbled as the hovercraft's engines started up, and after a brief period the rumble settled to a low growl as the hovercraft lilted forward to the clan base.

As they traveled, Marcel decided not to sit and instead gripped one of the two center poles for balance. He waited until most of the conversation died down, then knocked his black ring against the pole to get everyone's attention. "Awesome! It looks like everyone decided to board the ship and join the clan. Uh -- before we arrive -- why don't we go around and tell everyone our names? I know that sounds rather dumb, but humour me. We're going to have to get to know each other better anyways if we are to work together."

As everyone said their names, Marcel made sure to pay special attention to each person's face. It helped him remember their names more, and he wanted to be able to personally know everyone. "Excellent! That wasn't too bad, right? Now let me tell you a bit more about our clan, now that we're in this cooler environment: currently, not including you guys, our clan has seven members. Like I said, not a big clan, but that's what makes it fun!" Marcel smiled.

"Sanya, Jorell, and I, you've already met. Sanya and I lead the clan, but she does most of the clan leading since I'm generally outside working on assignments. Jorell is like the coolest dude you'll ever meet, and he also helps out with guarding the clan base. The other four you haven't met yet: Neven Nimae and his daughter Vanesa Nimae act as our friendly mechanic duo, Iolanda Nakata as our healer and clan mother, and Zayden Vorster as our informant and tech wiz. Ladies -- try not to hit him too much when you see him."

"Too late!" Sanya called from the cockpit.

Marcel laughed. "Yeah. It's hard. But he's actually a really nice dude."

Ten minutes later, Jorell knocked twice on the side of the wall: they had arrived. On first glance out of the windows, it seemed as if they had simply stopped in a clearing in the middle of No-Man's Land -- half-buried broken scrap pieces lay all around the area, and there was no hit of the base. However, Jorell pulled a lever on the dashboard of the craft, and they rumbled to a halt, parking on what seemed to be the only flat area for miles. Marcel grinned at the group. "This never gets old."

A roar beneath the ground sounded as the view out the windows appeared to shrink down towards the ground. Then lower, and lower, until the view touched the ground -- and went under. Marcel watched as a conveyor belt of concrete walls replaced what was originally a view of the sea of sand and scrap around the area. The concrete walls opened up to reveal a large room, and the roar beneath the ground softened and stopped as their descent slowed to a standstill. "Cool, huh?" Marcel asked. "Welcome to our underground base. You are currently in our entrance -- it doubles as a garage for our only vehicle. You just experienced our rising platform!" Marcel frowned. "It does cause a lot of sand to fall into the room, however. We should probably do something to change that."

Marcel walked over to the back exit, then pressed a blue button on the side. The door hissed and squealed, then shifted outwards. As the door opened, a whoosh of cool, dry air of the underground swept into the cabinet, revealing four figures standing at the front. The one on the left had her hands around her hips with a disapproving look on her face, and appeared to be in her middle ages. The second one was a waving old man with a face obscured by his huge beard and round goggles. On his apron was a small name tag: NEVEN. The one to his right was a very young teen holding the old man's hand with a curious look on her face. She had a tank top on, much to the disgust of the older woman. On the far right was a man, around the age of Marcel, with a scar across the center of his face. He was smiling in what was supposed to be friendly, but Marcel knew he was secretly checking out the women. "Hey guys! We're back." Marcel stepped out of the craft, waving back at the quartet. "Thanks for welcoming us here."

ZaydenBeing too pretty had to be a sin. Zayden had been dragged out of his tech den by Iolanda and wasn't exactly looking forward to greeting a bunch of new recruits, but as the door to the craft opened, Zayden was met with not one, not two, but FIVE beautiful women. He couldn't help but whistle as he looked at them. Many fighters were naturally hot because of their toned muscles and elegant skills, but he was sure these women left their mother's womb pretty. "Hello, Marcel!" He waved, not looking at Marcel at all. In a couple quick strides, he boarded the ship and offered his hand to the nearest lady he could find, a woman with white hair and a red robe. "And hello, m'lady. Might I offer you my assistance?" Zayden held out his arm and flashed a smile.
Collidias Rex

"Oh NO you don't!" Zayden felt a strong tug on the collar of his shirt as he was yanked back by the ever-bothersome Iolanda. "These women are perfectly capable of walking off this craft, you love-struck buffoon!"

Zayden sighed as he was led back to where Neven and Vanesa were standing. Vanesa giggled as she watched Iolanda pull Zayden back. "Looks like Zayden didn't get his flirting fill," She teased. Zayden grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a natural."

"A natural loser." Sanya walked up, as attractive as ever, and sharply elbowed Zayden in the side. "You're lucky Iolanda stopped you. I was about to give you a new bruise. Can't you meet women around your age without panting all over them? Creep." Neven chuckled a little at the remark, fondly rubbing Vanesa's head.

"Sanya!" A stern voice came from behind Zayden, and Iolanda marched up to face Sanya. "Look what you've done to our precious little Vanesa! She's practically wearing a rag held up by strings!"

Zayden watched as Vanesa rolled her eyes, giving Sanya the can you believe her? look. Sanya sighed. "You mean spaghetti straps? It's a new look, Iolanda. We don't wear your weird war-issued uniforms anymore."

Zayden almost added that it was also good for the eyes, but bit back his tongue. Sanya was already mad at him for what he saw as playful flirting, and he didn't want to make things worse. Iolanda looked as if she were about to say more, but a quick announcement from Marcel reminded them of why they had gathered in the garage entrance in the first place.

"Alright, guys, enough talking! Clan, meet our new recruits. New recruits, meet our clan. Zayden, if you will, please show them around. Without your usual philandering. I'll meet you in the briefing room." One look at Marcel was enough to tell he meant business. Oh well. He'd have more opportunities to get to know them better later.

"Okay, team! Time to show you our wonderful clan base. I'll just give you a very brief rundown, and you guys can explore the rest of the base later." Zayden waved the group off the craft, then began guiding them through the clan base. [Clan Base Layout added in the "Lore" Section]

When Zayden had finished giving the general rundown of the clan base, he led everyone to the briefing room. The briefing room was rather small, but it was home to Zayden's vast array of information. On one side, there was a desk cluttered with papers that Zayden had not yet sorted through. On the other side was the storage shelves full of papers he had sorted. In the center, a bright overhead light illuminated a tall, wooden table with a rough map of No-Man's Land, the Unknown Clan's location, and parts surrounding factions' regions: Zenobia and Rudonia. Marcel was leaning against a wall filled with pinned jobs from around the nearby area, waiting for the whole group to enter. "Come on in! Sorry to rush you all through the process like this, but we need to make sure none of you guys are spies or other troublemakers. To do that, we'll be sending you guys out on a mission and making sure none of you all kill each other!" Marcel beamed. "This one should be pretty easy. Zayden, give them the rundown."

Zayden rubbed his hands together. This was his expertise, and he wasn't about to let up an opportunity to impress the newest recruits. He bent over the wooden table with the map, grabbed some pins, and motioned for the group to gather around. "Right. So, you guys are going to be dealing with the Vinate clan, located-" he grabbed a pin and stuck it into the table right over a small dot- "here. They are a rather large, wealthy, independent clan in the middle of No-Man's Land, and that causes them some problems. We are usually called to solve them. Recently, some bandits have been harassing them, stealing money and other precious items. Vinate suspects that the bandits are hiding out-" he took another pin and stuck it to the right of his first pin, placing it over a ravine- "here. Your job is to gather information with the Vinate clan, see if they have any new leads on the bandits, then investigate the ravine for the suspected bandit activity. Depending on how well a job you all do, they are offering up to 1500 gold pieces. That would mean 750 split among you all, and 750 for the clan. Sound good? Any questions?"

Zayden placed the rest of his unused pins back in a small pouch by his side. "Marcel, are you sending anyone to help them out?"

"Hmmm... no, but that's a good idea. Why don't you go?" Marcel asked.

"Never thought you'd ask." Zayden suppressed a smile, grabbed his trusty sniper rifle, slung it over his shoulder, and turned back to the group. "So who's in?"

ObjectivesThis one is a bit rushed, sorry! It's to get us to the exciting parts! Finish up your conversations on the hovercraft! Announce your character's name to the rest of the group when Marcel asks! Now we won't have to be like, "that Symrustar" or "Mr. Cart guy" anymore! There's a LOT of shameless info-dumping in this one. How does your character think of all that they're learning? And the question to start the real adventure: "So who's in?" Berries Collidias Rex Kloudy Fayree ithinkcat Damafaud Aurum

 

[Aurum]

A lot was going on all at the same time, and Anahi felt her mind retracting to the deepest parts of her subconscious as everyone talked, and played, and looked at each other with a mix of interest and waryness.
She hadn't gotten the urge to speak at all from the moment she arrived to the Scrap Towers, to the second Marcel pointed at her inside the aircraft, as her turn to introduce herself came up. All she could do at that point was utter a faint "...Anahi...", and let the others continue. Speaking of the hovercraft, what a sight that was. Her mother had told her of the weapons and vehicles of the war many times, and she could name most of them by just looking; then again, her mother would talk fondly of anything that had to do with killing people better.

Marcel was cheerful, but his demeanor spoke of skills that shouldn't be underestimated. Although most people seemed to be warming up to him quickly, Anahi couldn't help but think of him as a sort of wolf drapped in sheep's clothes. Sure, he was charming, but she was sure he was also lethal. People who could hide how strong they were usually meant trouble, or so she'd learned over her many years of training to face them. Sanya, on the other hand, was more to Anahi's liking. She seemed distant and detatched, but she could tell her senses were placed directly over the new recruits, and the atmosphere around her sang of the many things she would do to anyone who dared hurt her dear clan leader, or any of the members they were surely about to meet, for that matter. If there was something Anahi could appreciate, it was subtlety.
As for the rest... An interesting bunch indeed. The two men who had showed up were what most people would call "excentric". Especially the apple-obsessed Francis Ward, who she could assume was originally from somewhere in the Steamheist faction, from the absolutely insane amounts of explosives he was willing to confidently store in an aircraft. Only Steamheist trusted bombs more than people. Then, the white haired younger man. He reeked of blood. It made her think of the many outlaws from the Phantomshades she had been paid to kill off during her time as a not-so-moral mercenary. His presence made her uncomfortable in a way she was all too accostumed to.
The rest of the group were all women. Irulan, the already injured Seishisai, based on her unusual weapon. Her people were not to be messed with, and usually kept to themselves. What brought one of their own into this land with no law? It was a question she had no actual reason to be asking herself other than it was interesting. She couldn't care less for the others' reasons for being here, but Seishisais were a rare sight.
Then, Valencia, who had been eyeing Anahi since she first showed herself. She was not sure whether she was trying to figure out if she knew Anahi from somewhere or if she wanted to fight, but both those options would be problematic. So she had taken to fully ignoring the Renwhirl until she decided to leave her alone.
Angelica bore a very heavy looking weapon. Pretty much the exact opposite of what Anahi had ever trained with. This made her interested in her abilities.
Last but not least, there was Amalya, who Marcel and Sanya both seemed to know from somewhere. Judging from their reactions, not only was she a respected scientist, she was also an unexpected appearance. Anahi didn't care much for science, but it may do some good to keep an eye on her for the time being.

The flight throughout No Man's Land was about as depressing as she'd come to expect after several days travelling through it. But she forced herself to keep a distance from the loud, newly-formed group. For a hunter of the forests and shadows, being confined to a single floating box in the sky with a big number of strangers was not ideal. Her movements would be noticed with or without her ern manipulation, and even if she did manage to hide, the moment someone noticed she wasn't there they would get suspicious. She could not afford the luxury to provoke any of them inside here, where the advantage of her long ranged weapon was utterly useless.

Lucky for her, they didn't take too long to arrive. Anahi looked out the window expecting to see a fortified base, or house, or maybe even tents. She found herself at a loss when the entire horizon showed nothing but more rocks and sand. Then, the floor started moving.
Her right hand grasped the longbow hanging from her back as an instinctual response to the unexpected turn of events. For less than a second she was ready to fight everyone there and then bolt out. Of course, Marcel was quick to explain what was going on.

Anahi tried to be the last one to leave. She did not enjoy the sensation of having someone watching her form behind. But she did not have that much time to worry about it, as even more new strangers came into sight. She was already calm enough to nod at everyone without the fact that she had been about to shoot their leader showing through her features (hopefully). She hid her presence and hid herself behind Valencia right in time to not be noticed by the man introduced as Zayden -she didn't care for his shenanigans. She was sorry that it was Valencia who got his attention instead, but doubted it would annoy her too much.

The tour revealed the Unknown Clan's base to be quite impressive. They had everything they needed to live comfortably there, and then some. She could imagine making herself at home in such a secure place, away from... Her troubles. And if all they asked for her in exchange was to finish some jobs, then she would be more than happy to oblige.
"Do we really need eight of us to do it?", she asked, making her voice actually heard for the first time since she'd arrived. When talking about a job, she had no time to be shy. "I'm thinking we could get in each others' way if we aren't coordinated enough. And, having just met, I doubt we will be". Her voice had a sweet, feminine base to it, but years of hardship had clearly made it hoarser and darker than it would've been had she been born under different circumstances. In spite of her apparent newfound confidence, she did not look at anyone's face. Her amber eyes were set on the map, studying it diligently in order to memorize it as fast as possible.

 

[Damafaud]

Francis Ward
Hovercraft ==> Base
Self-Introduction; More Monologuing
Interaction: Edric Yuma Kloudy
Mention: Aurum Berries Collidias Rex Fayree ithinkcat ​

It took Francis and Jorell a little over fifteen minutes to move all of the explosives, barrels and all, over to the hovercraft. The white haired young man did nothing to help, but Francis didn't look like he mind it. In fact, when he saw the white haired young man ran over to the hovercraft to give it a good look, he let off a whistle a continued his work while humming. The sight of the wary, suspicious young man inspecting the hovercraft lightened his mood.

A child! Yes, only someone with the heart of a child can be enthralled by something simple like a hovercraft! Those with the heart of a child can greatly influence fate! Fate has shown me one of his main actor! With these thoughts in mind, Francis watched the white haired young man with a new fervour, determined to help him as best as he could.

The poor young man didn't even know what he had got himself into.

Once everyone was ready to go, the last decision to be made was what should Francis do about his cart and horse, Edmund. However, Francis made this decision rather easily. He released Edmund from his cart and led him into the hovercraft, right beside the explosives. A horse, even with the discovery of hovercraft, was still a valuable asset. It was less intimidating than a hovercraft, and for those who decide to peddle, a horse and cart were faster than walking.

Of course, that exactly was not why Francis brought Edmund along; The more variables that could influence fate exists around him, the more interesting his fate would be, he decided. And what could be more unpredictable than a living being that couldn't talk and larger than a human?

With him bringing Edmund in, the hovercraft became a bit cramped. Francis decided to sit on his pile of explosives instead to save space. The others, for some unclear reason, stayed away from him. He was quite satisfied with himself that day, already proclaiming his name twice in a time span shorter than ten minutes. That was a new record! It was also why when Marcel (Not Marcella, he thought to himself) asked his name, he only said "Francis Ward. I call myself Francis," in a calm manner, unlike his previous boisterous and proud speech. It was never wise to have too many good things.

It wasn't long until they arrived at their destination.Although he was disappointed to discover that there weren't three Sanyas as he previously thought, the women were interesting individually that he felt joining the Moral Mercenary was the the best choice he had made. Francis, sitting on top of his explosives, was unable to see the ground opening below him and everything, which made him a bit disappointed. All he saw was the light suddenly becoming dimmer, before lighting up again. Then he walked out of the hovercraft.

Everyone and everything were interesting! Francis followed the tour silently with wide eyes, not offering a single comment to any of the infrastructures they were shown. If one wanted to be listen, one had to listen. So he did. Even when he felt like throwing one of his experimental fire bomb into the training room (Strong as steel! Just like he need it!) or measuring the space of his soon to be room with a ruler (He wonder if Edmund can fit in there), Francis stayed silent and went with the group.

The tour soon ended, and they were led to the briefing room. A mission! Secretly, he felt excited, but it didn't last too long.

The mission was to... investigate? Asking around? Leaving the rest on the hand of another? Repulsive! When one had the chance to influence the fate of others' the mission is to create the opportunity and hand it to another? He was going to lash out. Rejection. Offended.

"Do we really need eight of us to do it?" One voice asked. It was one of the women. Wait! That was Anahi, the Symrustar woman! "I'm thinking we could get in each others' way if we aren't coordinated enough. And, having just met, I doubt we will be".

Francis frowned in thought. Coordination? In each others' way? How could that happen when the mission is to investigate? Symrustar's concern could be severely different from his realm of expertise he couldn't even begin to comprehend it, but he didn't think, as otherworldy as he was, that was the case. Then how can one get into another way-

"Ah!" He broke into a grin.

"Praise the spirit of fire! This mission will certainly not be a bore! " Of course! He had completely misheard Zayden! Why would one worry about coordination in investigation? The spirit of air was always against him, even in travel (He grudgingly counts the number of tarps he lose to wind), so it was not unexpected for him to misheard! The word was not investigate but exterminate! He could make full use of his new fire bomb!

"Now, will a smoke warhead be necessary? No, the spirit of wind is against me, it is best not to rely on it being complacent. A flash warhead will do. Let fate be the witness, I am ready for this mission! " Francis declared his intention with a wide confident grin and a fiery heart. He would use this oppotunity to influence fate as best as he could!

"And you are coming with me!" He firmly grasped Kypher's shoulder. His fervent stare return. He would absolutely help this child grasp his destiny!

 

[Kloudy]

The Blood Champion
(Kypher "Cheater" Hawthorne)

It was just one surprise after another and Kypher almost wasn't able to keep up with each and every new development. If he had thought the hovercraft would be the height of his wonder today, he had been sorely mistaken. Kypher's face was positively glued to the window in amazement as the ground literally descended before him and they sunk into a murky abyss below. While there was that grounded element of his true nature in relation to his past, there still remained that childlike hint reflecting the more innocent thoughts within. Perhaps because he had grown up without a childhood he was unconsciously trying to catch up?

His marvelling was cut short as Marcel called for everyone to introduce themselves, earning him a sigh of resignation from the smaller Phantomshade man. This was mandatory, he supposed, wondering which name he should give. When it was his turn, he raised a hand and three of his five fingers forward, accompanied with a now bored expression, "They called me 'Cheater' back in Phantomshade." He didn't elaborate on which spelling/meaning he'd meant by that, nor did he particularly care which they decided to go for. Both described him fairly well anyway.

Soon they were tasked with exiting the hovercraft to meet the clan. The journey itself had been mostly amazing for Kypher as he'd been staring at all the fancy new technology he'd never seen before, although he'd been extremely wary of Francis still, occasionally sending dubious glances in the direction of his many crates of explosives. Kypher was brave, but brave enough to remain locked in a small room filled with easily ignitable explosives? Actually, he'd been in worse spots, he decided. Everyone else was either talking to each other or listening, so Kypher ignored them too. He didn't pay particular attention to names, aside from the dangerous ones like Francis and potentially Marcel. During the ride, Kypher also noticed the Seishisaian, Irulan. He'd fought several of her kind back in the day and their swords were just downright ridiculous in his opinion, he couldn't even block their strikes or anything! Luckily he was quick, but his eye had not been so lucky. While some might resent the Seishisai for such an injury, Kypher somewhat respected them for their indomitable combat prowess and power. Irulan was not as impressive as he'd hoped, but he was never one to underestimate an opponent either. He knew what that sword was capable of.

As everyone exited the hovercraft, they were introduced to the rest of the clan. A young girl and her father, both mechanics, some kind of old lady maid and a slimy playboy weirdo. Kypher wasn't particularly interested in any of them and soon began to aimlessly glance about at his surroundings. A quick tour of the clan, which Kypher decided to actually pay attention to out of sheer boredom, and they were soon in a briefing room discussing the upcoming mission they were apparently being sent on. 'So much for settling in.' he thought to himself sarcastically. When Zayden was finished, he had to suffer listening to everyone put in their own opinion of the mission instead of just getting on with it. He tried his best to drone them out, especially when Francis kept going on about blowing up the people they were meant to be investigating. Although one thing he did agree with the demolitionist there: he wasn't about to ask anyone anything unless it involved some level of torture.

It was then that he felt a hand quickly and firmly grasp his shoulder. Kypher was a fairly calm individual most of the time, but living where he had grown up, not just in Phantomshade but where he was from specifically, meant you grew reflexes that reacted to even the smallest of things. For the split second it lasted, the rattle of his chains were the only indication to the others that Kypher had moved. As the hand made contact with his shoulder, the Phantomshadeian moved with incredible speed, twisting his torso around and gripping the hand's wrist with an unexpectedly vice-like grip and twisting it into a painful position. Simultaneously, his other hard shot forward towards the offender's neck, oozing with malicious intent. Upon closer inspection, one would notice what looked like a shard of sharp rusty metal in his hand. Kypher had picked it up and hidden it on his body at the Two Spikes, just in case he would need it for situations like this. Of course, Kypher realised he had overreacted when he noticed his shard of metal was digging into Francis' skin, drawing a small droplet of blood, and he was currently in the process of wrenching the man's hand painfully to the side.

Swiftly, Kypher released Francis and took a step away from him. Unpredictable. Dangerous. Threat. The man had seemed to have found some vested interest in Kypher, which the smaller man knew would prove to be either extremely annoying or threatening to his life. Slipping the shard back into his tattered shorts, Kypher crossed his arms and frowned in clear displeasure, "I'm gonna go straight to the ravine. Don't have no fun with your 'investigating' without me." Having spoken loudly enough to be heard by the whole group, Kypher donned his usual dismissive expression and moved to the wall at the back of the group so he could lean on it. As he walked past Francis, he felt the smallest twinge of guilt for having attacked the man. Of course, it was still Francis' fault for touching him like that, but the feeling remained. He muttered something under his breath as he passed him, "Sorry...", and went to lean on the nearby wall with his brooding aura.

The air tasted stale, almost artificial down here, probably due to the ventilation this place had. Kypher had spent nearly his entire life living underground until recently, so he at least knew how things worked down here. If need be, he could even escape through the ventilation in a dire situation. This thought brought some peace of mind to him and took his attention off of the violent outburst that he just occurred. Despite his less than happy attitude, Kypher did actually like the place. It was nice enough, more so than his last home. Perhaps he would stay here after all.

Edric Yuma Damafaud ithinkcat

 

[Collidias Rex]

Valencia Fire-Speaker​

Company should have been the appropriate word, but that implied a level of camaraderie which Valencia distinctly lacked.

"Uh- who are you again?"

It was the second arrival. Valencia hadn't paid much mind to her, but had noted the irritable tone with which she had spoken some minutes prior. That seemed to have softened now - though it was no wonder why. Valencia had caught the woman from the corner of her eye; relishing the artificial breeze streaming into the craft.

She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. She hadn't expected anyone to strike up a conversation so abruptly. She had resigned herself to sitting quietly in the craft for the duration of the trip, but now someone had caught her attention. It took her a moment to recall how one should hold a conversation, but the woman decided to speak up again before she could respond.

"And how'd you end up here?"

"That ... is something of a difficult question." Valencia added at length. Her eyes stared straight ahead, distant, but her expression was plenty animate, as if she were face to face with a listener. "It was ... hmm. I know mainlanders have little appreciation for 'fate' so I won't preach to you. But ... a lot of things in this world guided me here. I don't think I would be able to summarize them in a way you could easily understand." She stopped, locking eyes with her interlocutor.

She let the other question hang for a moment, looking about the craft as the others gave their names. Two birds, one stone. She waited until a pause lingered, then spoke up.

"Valencia Fire-Speaker." She said aloud, lifting her head. "I prefer a name in full, but 'Valencia' can be a mouthful. You can call me 'Val' if it suits you. Renwhirl."

And just like that, it was as if her sociability had deserted her. She bowed her head only a fraction but diverted her eyes to the floor. There was a lot to take in, and trying to focus on many things at once had left her uncollected. Uncertain. It left her in a state not befitting of her character.

She drew a sharp breath and closed her eyes, holding it as she drifted into a quiet stillness. Words scratched at her eardrums, but they grew muffled and distant. She exhaled, slowly, and a flicker of warmth blossomed in her stomach. Slowly, steadily, it radiated through her, and she found herself sinking into darkness as the voices were quashed beneath the silence.

She opened her eyes some time later. She'd become accustomed to the smooth hum of the craft, and so when it began to slow and the craft began jostling ever-so-slightly, she had stirred at the change of pace. Her rest had not been as long as she would have liked, but it was enough to come to terms with her immediate surroundings.

She pushed off the seat and stood, taking a moment to stretch her arms with a broad yawn. Her shoulders rose, shifted forward, then rolled back place testingly. She felt good. She collected her staff, and strode to the doorway. It remained closed, but the stirring around her told that it wouldn't remain closed for long.

Surely enough, Marcel made a quick beeline for the doorway but a moment after. She shifted aside, as not to keep him from the door, but when given the opportunity she moved into and through the doorway, striding into the cool, spacious chamber.

Dark, was the first thought to cross her mind. Of course, the chamber was lit - but lit and bright were entirely different things. She registered four figures standing at ease, but found herself busy studying the environs first and foremost.

"Hello, Marcel!"

She snapped her sights to the figure ahead, the one approaching. Approaching her. A word came to mind: fluffy. The man had a kind of pretty softness to him. Like a flower. He certainly didn't strike her as the sort to associate with mercenaries.

"And hello, m'lady. Might I offer you my assistance?"

Valencia frowned. For what use did she have of his assistance? Did she strike him as helpless? In need of help? She quirked a brow at the strange man, and thought to answer ... a moment too late.

"Oh NO you don't!"

A second figure yanked the man away before Valencia could respond.

"These women are perfectly capable of walking off this craft, you love-struck buffoon!"

Oh, that's how it was. She'd heard tell of mainlanders and their flights of fancy, but she had long assumed those stories were smear and propaganda. In hindsight, it was only natural that there had been some truth to them.

Still. She couldn't fault his taste in women. She stood by silently, watching with quiet amusement as the 'experienced' members bickered between themselves. When everything was settled and sorted, she fell in behind the strange man - Zayden. Yes, of course, she'd been warned about him on the craft. She mentally matched names and faces as she followed behind him. Straight off the craft and into mission briefing, it seemed.

The task seemed simple enough. For as long as man existed whom was incapable of defending himself, there would exist another to prey upon him. Despicable. Naturally, there would be no shortage of predatory bandits on the mainland. Valencia found a smile touch her lips.

Naturally, there would be no shortage of tasks for a person of her disposition and talent.

"Hah." Valencia grunted as she watched Zayden take up his rifle. "You carry a weapon. I half suspected you would poison our enemies with your words, and cut them upon your wit."

His obvious shallowness aside, the man had a refreshing energy about him. Perhaps not such a flower after all. A flower would uncurl lazily in the sunlight - yet Zayden took up his arms with much more zeal. Curious.

"Our Syrumstar ally makes a point." Valencia moved several steps toward the Syrumstar (whose name she had not caught), then stopped. She turned to Marcel. "We are to be brothers and sisters in arms - and we should act as such. If we all attempt to enter the fray as one, we might cause trouble for one another. Aught we split into two groups in combat? It may be easier to coordinate that wa-"

The rattle, she hadn't picked up on - but the blur of movement caught her eye, and caught her tongue simultaneously. The creepy dark one. A dirty, hard shape. She couldn't make out the shape exactly, but knew the motion. A blade to the neck.

She kept her quiet, slowly wrapping her free hand around the haft of her weapon and making watching the men. What had she missed? What caused this kind of commotion? She noted the gap between her and the pair - too far. She'd feel if the Phantomshade made a move, but she wouldn't be able to reach him in time to stop him. What could-

And he made a move - thankfully, not the move Valencia had anticipated. As swiftly as the circumstances had come to be, the two men untangled, and the Phantomshade parted, seemingly calm.

"I'm gonna go straight to the ravine. Don't have no fun with your 'investigating' without me."

... what in the world had happened?

Hesitant, she watched as the Phantomshade - Cheater, he called himself - made distance between himself and the other man. Had the situation been defused? She slowly rested the end of her staff on the ground.

"So much for coordination."

Mentions: Aurum Berries

 

[ithinkcat]

I R U L A N
_______________________________________________________
​

Irulan watched eagerly as Amalya boarded carrying both their luggage and sat next to her. Amalya's expression had changed from its previous pleasantness. Despite having been very forward before, now she seemed withdrawn. Her soft smile had vanished. Amalya simply sat and said nothing more. Irulan was perplexed at the tone shift. She wondered if she had offended the kind woman in some way. Perhaps the offer to help had merely been a colloquial formality in wherever Amalya was from. Was she not supposed to accept the offer? Or maybe she should have waited up a bit. Regardless, Irulan was convinced she was at fault for whatever it was that had caused the sudden change in mood.

Irulan had been excited to inspect the flying scrapheap, but the awkwardness of the situation instead had her staring at her feet silently while the others talked. She nearly missed Marcel's instructions for everyone to introduce themselves. "Irulan..." she gave in a meek reply still avoiding eye contact with everyone. Irulan hadn't even paid enough attention to remember the names of the others. So much for Marcel's attempt to break the ice.

After a bit more time passed the hovercraft stopped and Marcel played up the theatrics of their hidden base. Despite Irulan stuck in a feedback loop of her own emotions, the sight wouldn't have impressed her as much as it did some of the others. There were some really big machines and facilities buried out in no-man's-lands, and Irulan had spent the last few years exploring those very things. Her last crew had once found a door large enough to fit several dozen hovercraft through at once built in to the side of a mountain. They managed to jump-start the door with a sizable piece of liquid ern, and boy was it impressive to see that monstrosity pry open. Sure, the piece of ern only had enough juice to barely crack the thing open before it shut off, but it was still a sight to behold.

Once the ship had set down into the hanger and the craft's bay door had lowered Irulan stood, making sure to beat Amalya up from her seat, so that she could grab her own pack this time. She didn't want to make the same mistake again and offend anyone else. She strained picking up the large backpack and slung it over her good shoulder as she prepared to depart while keeping a mental note of the name of the healer Marcel had named again. Before the ride Marcel had mention to Iruan that she should see this Iolanda about getting patched up. As humiliating as it was to need healing before she had even done a mission for her new clan, it was too irresponsible to go on any sort of job in her current state. She needed to be strong. Stronger than before, and rushing into battle with a broken arm wasn't exactly the pinnacle of fitness.

Standing in the open hanger bay was the rest of the clan. The group departed and were handed off to Zayden, a man a bit too excited by the gender ratio, for a tour of the base, but before Irulan could follow Iolanda grabbed Irulan's pack and stopping her. "Nope. You stay here and drop that pack now." Iolanda commanded. "You look like you've been rolled down a briar covered cliff, young lady. I'm fixing you up before you go anywhere."

Irulan resisted a bit. "...but, I should really stick with the group for the tour." Irulan replied.

The aged woman shushed the newcomer. "You can walk around the base anytime you want, but right now you need some medical care." Irulan surrendered and dropped her backpack on the ground. Iolanda motioned for Irulan to follow her to a different room. "Vanesa, take this young woman's things to her room." she instructed the young girl.

Iolanda guided Irulan to the healing ward, had her lay down on a sterile bed, and began to work her medicine. Time passed slowly as the woman worked on Irulan's injuries. Tingling slowly replaced the dull, sore pain Irulan had been tolerating, and soon enough Iolanda declared she was done. "There. It's not 100 percent but what do you expect for such a quick job. Sorry to say, but we're putting you all to work right away so let's go find the others now."

Irulan stood up from the bed and was genuinely shocked at how much better she felt. She could still feel some tightness in her muscles, but she had not expected that level of treatment. Irulan gave a small bow and thank you to her caretaker, but Iolanda had already begun leaving the ward. Irulan quickly caught up to woman and followed until they reached the briefing room. They arrived just after the others had finished their tour and gotten to the briefing room themselves. Irulan mingled back into the group as Zayden began the briefing for the groups first mission. A test to see how loyal and capable they'd all be. She was confident she could prove both, especially thanks to Iolanda's treatment.

When Zayden had finished the brief, he asked who all were interested in accepting the job. Irulan was a bit confused that she even had a choice in the matter. She had always thought that everyone that was available to go on a mission for a clan were obligated to. What kind of clan could survive if its members chose to not go on missions? It just didn't make sense. A few of the others spoke up immediately, obviously accepting the job. Anahi, a cold Syrumstar woman, questioned the need for some many people. She made a wise point that so many people unfamiliar with each other could cause issues in battle but reach what Irulan thought was the wrong conclusion. Valencia supported Anahi's point but the two men...boys, seemed fixed on skipping the information gathering stage and just dealing with the problem head on. A foolish idea, but one that fit Irulan better. Still, a division in the group was already starting to form, and that, she thought, was far worse than just going on a mission with some people you weren't comfortable with.

"Uh, I think we should stick together." Irulan spoke up. "I agree we all are unfamiliar with our new clans-members and that it may cause issue. That's all the more reason we should try and overcome it as quickly as possible. Avoiding each other isn't going to teach us any teamwork." Irulan was trying to stay non-confrontational, that was until it came to her next remark. "I hate to admit it, but I agree with Cheater that we should just go take care of the problem. We know where they are, supposedly. Spending more time than we need to gathering unnecessary information could result in these bandits harming more people." Irulan straightened her back. "I say we go straight to the ravine."

Collidias Rex Kloudy Damafaud Aurum Edric Yuma

 

[Berries]

Angela Tyranna | Twin Spikes | Edric Yuma | Kloudy​

Eyes fixated on the fire-woman as she contemplated her words before speaking, Angie systematically filtered out everything else that was going on around her. She was rather good at that; narrowing her focus down to just a few things that she concentrated on to fully absorb them. However, that state didn't last long as Valencia chose her words and responded to her two questions. Nodding her head in response to the other woman's answers, Angie pretended to understand and acknowledge what Valencia spewed about fate and hints at other-worldly guidance. Preferring to lead a more simple life, Angie mostly dispensed with Valencia's answer, though she didn't greet it with hostility now that she was in a good mood.

Noticing that Valencia seemed to be waiting for other people to speak, Angie tuned into the rest of the group's conversation just in time to register that Marcel had asked them all to introduce themselves again. Happy to wait her turn to speak to the group, Angela turned away from Valencia who had obviously shut down and didn't want to speak anymore. When there was suitable silence in the aircraft, Angie raised her hand slightly. "Angela. I prefer Angie." She supplied before shifting her hammer so that it was sitting in between her legs. For the rest of the flight she sat back and rested, not particularly observing anybody but taking in Marcel's words about the clan. Once they arrived at the base, however, her attention was noticeably refocused on her surroundings.

The tour of the base blurred by, and the introductions to the other clan members also faded in her memory. By the end of it the only people she knew were Valencia, Marcel and Sonya and she wouldn't have been able to find her way around the base if her life depended on it, but she wasn't focused on the negatives. What she was really interested by was Zayden when he started to talk about the actual mission they would be conducting. Edging towards the table curiously, Angie looked up when she noticed some sort of commotion occurring between the two men recruits. When she saw that there seemed to be some sort of physical conflict, her hand instantly gripped her hammer, though the situation quickly diffused from there and she dismissed the event with a shrug of her shoulders.

The task they had been presented with seemed simple enough, so when Zayden asked who was up for the mission she nodded and brought her hammer up to rest on her shoulder. She didn't exactly have a good head for strategy so didn't bother thinking about complex investigations. "Ravine," she agreed with a few who had come before her, "may as well exterminate the enemy sooner than later. We can investigate later if they're not there." She stated, making eye contact and nodding to the weird white-haired man who had been the first to suggest heading to the ravine.

 

[Edric Yuma]

The RavineThe Ravine was bustling with activity - amid shouts for gear, repairs, and more beer, a grizzly man stood, tattooed arms crossed, dreadlocks swaying in the wind, inspecting all the actions unfolding before him.

"Boss." A voice from behind interrupted the man's observations, and he swiveled his single eye to acknowledge the presence of the smaller man. The smaller man had wrapped his hair in a bandana and covered his mouth and nose with another, leaving only his eyes visible. One of his arms was missing, and in its place was a rusted cannon pistol of sorts. The man addressed as Boss was not a patient man and was in no mood for conversation, but the smaller man was one of his most trusted underlings. "Whaddya want, Wuhan? I'm kinda busy right now."

The smaller man, Wuhan, shifted uncomfortably. "If you don't mind me asking, why are we deploying our entire fighting force? I thought Vinate would be an easy picking? We already have two of their people here. Are we going to capture more?"

The boss glanced over to a cutout in the ravine. In a small cage, a man and a woman sat, huddled and scared. Good. He liked it when his hostages were scared and incompetent. Uncrossing his arms, he handed a sheet of paper to Wuhan. "Look at this."

Wuhan glanced at the paper. Bandits terrorizing Vinate clan. Assistance Requested. Up to 1500 Gold Pieces upon elimination of bandits - reward varies depending on quality of completion.

The boss scoffed. "See that? It's like they thought we wouldn't see the job request. They had the gall to call us bandits, Wuhan. That is simply unacceptable. You know what's even more unacceptable? The fact that they somehow still have 1500 Gold Pieces, despite the fact they claim to give us 'all they have' every time we ask for tribute. I want that gold - and we're going to get it."

"But our orders were to-"

"I don't care what our orders were. We got some hostages, right? What the top brass doesn't know won't kill them."

Wuhan swallowed. He knew his boss had low patience, so he had to make sure to know when to stop asking questions. "But what about deploying our entire force? If you just want the Gold, you can send me and a couple of the guys. We'll have it back in no time." He wanted to add how much Liquid Ern they were losing by deploying all three hovercrafts, but held his tongue. No reason to risk it.

The boss fully turned around, giving Wuhan his full attention for the first time. One of his eyes was covered by a makeshift eyepatch, a combination of a dirtied rag and some straps. Strapped across his back in an 'X' were two machetes, and at his sides were dual pistols. His tattered desert robes blew in the wind as his lips curved into a crooked smirk. "I think you're misunderstanding, Wuhan. We're not going to collect more money. Vinate has grown too big in the head. We're bringing it to the ground." He drew a line across his neck with a finger. "No survivors."

MARCELMarcel watched as Zayden instructed the new recruits on their first assignment, absentmindedly fingering his black ring. Zayden had a habit of trying too hard for a good first impression, and Marcel could tell that Zayden was upping his rhetoric to sound as knowledgeable as possible. Not that he needed to prove it with his words. Zayden was as skilled an informant as any he'd ever met. As for first impressions - Zayden's whole act with Valencia hadn't exactly put him on the right foot forward. Marcel smiled to himself. Zayden didn't seem to ever learn.

As Zayden continued speaking, however, Marcel found his mind wandering back to his dream last night. It was the same dream he'd been having for weeks now, and that worried him. Usually when this happened, it meant his dream wasn't exactly just a dream. But the more he thought about it, the more uncertain he became. What could it possibly mean?

Marcel stands on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a large clan village near a sea. In a sudden, blinding flash, the ground quakes and the sky splits open. When the light recedes, the clan village is on fire. Screams of terror echo to the top of the cliff, and the villagers seem to be fighting amongst one another. The sea itself seems to be scared; it huddles close to the shore, bringing colossal waves crashing into the nearby houses. As Marcel continues peering into the sea, it seems as if his sight itself recedes. The end of the sea slowly turns dark black, as if something is devouring the sea.

Was it the end of the world? The apocalypse? A motherfucking mega-wave of flying, gigantic insects coming to take over all of humanity? All seemed like plausible ideas, but Marcel felt like there was something else behind all of it. What did the flash of light mean? Why would the villagers fight amongst each other in a time of calamity? He had almost shared his dream with Sanya but decided against it. He didn't want to trouble her with dreams he couldn't even interpret himself. It was his own side-effect of the spiritual transformation he had, and he had to deal with it himself.

The voice of the Symrustar, who had introduced herself as Anahi, cut across Marcel's thoughts, and he looked up, surprised. Anahi had seemed so timid, but now she was all businesslike. Marcel uncrossed his arms and pushed himself off the wall. "Oh, quite the contrary! I think all eight of you will do fine together. And don't get me wrong - when I said 'pretty easy,' I was taking into account the fact that the seven of you - not including Zayden - would be partaking in the mission. I'm quite sure you'll want all of your mates to be with you for this one. And remember, this is to make sure you guys aren't actually imposters or something and won't kill each other! How you go about the task, though-" Marcel spread his hands "-is completely up to you." Aurum

"Hah." Marcel turned his attention to Valencia as she spoke to Zayden. "You carry a weapon. I half suspected you would poison our enemies with your words, and cut them upon your wit."

Marcel chuckled as Zayden bristled and struggled to find a proper retort, turning a slight pink shade darker. No wonder Valencia had left Renwhirl. Those idiots hadn't a single ounce of humour in them. Collidias Rex

Valencia continued speaking, but was quickly cut off by a sudden movement across the room. In that moment, the man known as Cheater suddenly had a shank pressed against Francis, drawing blood. It seemed like an accident, though, as Cheater promptly released Francis and stepped back, announcing his desire to go straight to the ravine. Old habits die hard, Marcel supposed. Phantomshade... Cheater must have gone through some terrible things to be so wary all the time. "Careful!" Marcel called. "Wouldn't want Francis here to die to rust before his first mission." Damafaud Kloudy

Marcel turned back to Valencia. "Sure, sounds good to me. It's your mission, anyway. Zayden, why don't you divide them up into two groups of four? One can go straight to the ravine, like Cheater wanted, and one can go gather info with the clan." Collidias Rex Kloudy

Zayden held up his hands. "Woah woah woah - we are NOT going to the ravine without knowing anything about the bandits. Hell no! That is dumb."

"Zayden, this isn't your mission. This is theirs." Marcel reminded. He knew Zayden hated doing anything without gathering info first, but this time the decisions were up to the new recruits. "Besides, Cheater, Francis, Angie, and Irulan have already made it clear they'd rather be at the ravine than gathering information."

"We aren't like you, Marcel. We can't just go in and improvise our way through each mission."

Marcel glanced over the group of outcasts and survivors, fighters and assassins, and grinned back at Zayden. "You'd be surprised."

Zayden relented. Sighing, he combed his fingers through his hair. "Fine. I'm still going to the village though - we have to actually confirm with them that we are taking them up on their request. We'll meet up later. Cheater, Francis, Swordswoman, and Whiteband chick, you guys go to the ravine and, uh, I dunno, scout things out? Have fun. Go wild and whatnot. Hot monk with a sharp tongue, Symrustar, and miss chemical - we're gonna go gather information at the clan first, then head over to the ravine. Sound good?" Berries Collidias Rex Kloudy Fayree ithinkcat Damafaud Aurum

Amidst other discussions, Marcel saw Neven hobble into the room. His goggles had been pulled up to his forehead, revealing his long, unkempt hair and bushy beard. "Symrustar." The mechanic tossed three arrows to Anahi. Neven's coarse voice and wrinkled face betrayed his old age, but his eyes twinkled of a young, wily child trapped within.

"Test these arrows here out for me, will ya? I've been working on some new traps for the base - you never know when someone might attack us - and these are my latest iteration of explosive arrows. These arrows are like mines - shoot them at the ground, and if someone comes near them, they explode. Shoot them into the flesh of an enemy, and they explode. Either way, it'll end with a boom. Not as explosive as Mr. Steamheist's bombs there-" Neven nodded at Francis "-But it fits the bill of what I'm looking for." Damafaud

"Perfect for people who can't aim, like us, but even better in the hands of someone who can - like you. I've run some tests on it, but it's never been field tested. I can't get anyone to voluntarily step on it, so do me a favor, will ya?" Neven waved, hobbling back out. "Tell me how it goes." Aurum

Marcel laughed. "Before you ask - yes, he's always like that. What can I say? Creative genius is just intelligent madness."

Once all the details were sorted out, Marcel clasped his hands together and beamed. "Alright! I guess it's time to head out! Head back to the hovercraft - Jorell and I will see you all off this time."

Zayden grabbed a small flare gun out of his pocket and tossed it to Francis. "If you guys are in really bad trouble and need to get out, fire this into sky. Jorell will come by. But only use it if it's really bad, 'cause that also alerts other possible baddies of your location." Damafaud

"We really need a second hovercraft," Marcel mused as they loaded back into the vehicle. Their clan had just effectively doubled in size, and there would more than likely be more missions where they'd split up. But he could worry about that later. The clan hadn't had new recruits in a while, and he was excited to see how their first mission would turn out.

The RavineJorell dropped the four off near the ravine first. "Break a leg!" Zayden shouts as the hovercraft drives away.

After the dust settles and the sound of the hovercraft dies, an eerie stillness and silence settles over the surrounding desert. Aside from a few pieces of junk and the rare plant or two, all that lies around the four is flat, hot, sandy ground. As they approach the ravine, they see the drop to the bottom is about a kilometer. The ravine goes to the left and right of them another 500 meters or so before cutting off and entering a deeper, dark cave. Peering down, the four see the natural, water-carved floor of the ravine, a deep cavity a little bit to the left, some hastily abandoned gears and weapons strewn across the ground, and another deep cavity far to the right (keep in mind this is all they can see from the side of the ravine they are on.) On the edge of the cliff side they are on, a small and narrow trail crosses itself back and forth all the way to the bottom.

A small, natural rock bridge crosses over to the other side of the ravine. On the other side of the ravine, another small, narrow trail crosses itself back and forth all the way to the bottom. At the very, very far left side of the ravine, a small, rusted ladder lies half-assembled against the side of the ravine; the ladder starts from the top and gets halfway down, but then stops. Its bottom is a bit rusted, and looks as if it fell or got cut off. It is possible to climb down the sides of the ravine for a skilled climber with gear, but without the gear, it's a big risk to take.

As the four listen closely, there is no sound but the occasional wind passing through the ravine.

Objectives ithinkcat Damafaud Kloudy Berries What do you do? If you guys want to make shorter posts with conversation or declaration of actions, I'll quickly follow up with short posts of my own detailing what happens next. Collab posts work too.

ZaydenAs Zayden, Amalya, Valencia, and Anahi stepped out into the sweltering sun of the Vinate clan village, they were met by a young man. He was in his mid thirties with an unbuttoned thin vest revealing toned abs and muscular arms that covered part of a gold, circular necklace hanging from his neck. His baggy green shorts swayed in the wind, held up by a large, square belt. His head was completely hairless, save for a small stubble poking out of his chin. His face was set to a disgruntled look as he observed the four, and it darkened considerably after looking at Anahi. As they approached, he spat on the floor in front of the four. "You here to steal our money?" He asked gruffly.

"No, we're here to take you up on your request for aid against the bandits. Zayden Vorster, at your service." Zayden held up a hand.

The man eyed Zayden's hand, but made no move to shake it. "Same difference. We're paying you all the money we have left. Follow me, I'll lead you to the elders." The man turned around and began walking into the village, muttering something about "Symrustar scum". Zayden glanced at the other three and rolled his eyes, pointing at the man like can you believe this guy? Aurum Collidias Rex Fayree

So much for a lovely jaunt with the ladies; the man just killed the mood. He hadn't even given his name. As they walked through the village, passing sharp turns and sudden changes in direction, Zayden dryly noted the terrible layout of the clan village. The roads had no order, and the organization of the houses were impossibly random. If the village were ever attacked, it'd be hard for the assailants to get in - and even harder for the defenders to defend.

As they walked through the narrow roads of the village, the cracked, mud walls of the surrounding houses and hung laundry draped on ropes crisscrossing from house to house enveloped Zayden's view. Beggars sat on the steps of houses. The clan seemed terribly poor; the bandits must have been wringing them dry. Zayden almost felt bad for taking their money, but the Unknown clan needed it too - Neven's exuberant experiments and Marcel's stupid injury-causing actions had left them always starved for cash. Besides, after they took care of the bandits, the Vinate clan would no longer need to worry about their money being taken. As they passed a woman in tattered rags, the woman grasped at the edge of Zayden's shirt. "Please... anything you can spare."

Zayden peered down and saw the woman was pregnant. He didn't have much on him, but he fished out a gold piece and gave it to the woman with a smile. "How can I say no to a damsel in distress? Don't spend it all in one place."

The woman smiled back. "May the sapphire dragon bless you with good fortune."

Not with this guy as our guide, Zayden thought glumly.

After a couple minutes, the man stopped in front of a building. It was the highest building in the village, with a small watchtower at the very top. Opening the door, the man stepped inside, slamming it in front of Zayden's face. "Uhhh... so do I wait, or go in...?" Zayden turned to the other three. "This guy hasn't been very helpful."

After a couple moments, another, much older man came out, opening the door and beckoning them inside. "Please, please."

As they stepped inside the cooler area, Zayden spotted the man that had led them there walk immediately out the back door, glaring at Anahi as he exited. The older man chuckled softly, walking over to a roundtable and taking a seat on one of the many stools surrounding it. "Dear me. Have a seat. You'll have to forgive Estevon. His father was killed by a infamous Symrustar hitwoman. He's held them in high contempt ever since. Not that you had anything to do with it, of course," The man said kindly to Anahi. The man's hair and beard were completely white, and his bushy eyebrows wiggled as he spoke. Aurum

"Call me Elder Max. I oversee this poor excuse for a clan. I'm relieved you guys responded so early - I was worried the bandits would catch wind of the flyer we posted before mercenaries saw it."

"That's our job, Elder Max. 1500 gold pieces ain't too bad, either." Zayden took a seat at the table, resting one hand on his knee and the other on the table. "So, before we head out: got any extra information on the bandits? All I got is the location of their base."

"Ah - let's see..." The elder rubbed his long beard with his thumb and index finger. "They suddenly attacked us out of nowhere. I've never even seen these guys before. They haven't been a constant threat in the No-Man's Land; it's almost as if they came here from another place." The elder let out a short bark of laughter. "But I'll be rolling over in my grave before a clan voluntarily migrates to No-Man's Land. Aside from that and the fact that they abducted two of our beloved clanmembers, I personally don't know much. If you ask our spiritual leader on the West side of the village, Savina, she can tell you more. She was closest to the couple that were abducted. On the east side is our rudimentary armed forces; the commander there, Brennan, saw the bandits and negotiated with them. He's kept us alive so far, he might have some more information to tell you."

The elder got up. "Ah, where's my manners? Can I offer you guys something to drink?"

Zayden held up his hands. "No, no thanks. We're rather in a hurry to gather that information before our ride gets back - some of our friends have already gone over to the ravine to check things out and we should catch up soon."

The elder smiled and began walking up a narrow staircase leading to the top of the watchtower. "Then, if you'll excuse me; I have to make sure to be on alert in case the bandits come back."

As Elder Max retreated back upstairs, Zayden turned to the other three. "So, while we're here, we might as well ask the two people he mentioned. It wouldn't hurt, it'll probably just take a couple minutes more. I told Jorell to pick us back up in thirty, so we'll be waiting a while anyways."

Zayden turned to Valencia, "Monk, can you go talk to Savina? Your background should be a plus for gathering whatever information we can get, and you can finally put that sharp tongue of yours to good use." Zayden winked. He wasn't exactly against ladies who could talk a good fight and back it up with skill. "Ask around for directions there, however; it's really easy to get lost here." Collidias Rex

It took a brief moment for Zayden to find Anahi: even though he looked straight at her, he couldn't feel her presence. "And, uh- sorry, didn't catch your name - can you go talk to Brennan? Ask specifically if he noticed anything special about the weapons they used; that could help us out when we head over to the ravine." Aurum

"I'll stay here with Amalya... I have some questions for her. If anything goes wrong, I'll be able to provide sniper support from the top of the watchtower."

Zayden leaned back against the table and rested his elbows on top. "Sound good?"

Objectives Fayree Aurum Collidias Rex I forgot to mention this earlier, but our currency system in this game is going to be pretty simple (based off DnD): One gold piece is equal to ten silver pieces, and one silver piece is equal to ten copper pieces. For the sake of consistency, let's say everyone starts off with twenty gold pieces. I've updated the Others tab to reflect this. Gather information. Same as the other team - make shorter posts, and I'll respond as quickly as I can.