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After crushing Hopper's leg, The Immortal turned back to the Reactor Room, finding Bright Angel blocking his path. "I've talked enough today," he said, trying to ignore the girl. She still stood defiantly in front of him. "If you refuse to listen to reason, then I will just have to move you myself," he said. The Immortal then lifted his leg and stomped onto the ground, causing the floor they were standing on to collapse. Bright Angel fell to the bottom of the newly formed crater, and The Immortal hovered to the Reactor Room, finally making his way across the threshold. Crosscut sat next to Hopper, shouting at him. "Hopper! Snap out of! Hopper!" His friend was shellshocked. Crosscut turned away and counted who was still active. "Chimera. Where'd he go?" he asked himself. Crosscut began rapidly teleporting room to room, trying to find his teammate. "There you are," he said as he appeared in front of the boy. Chimera, in his human form, sat unconscious, slumped against a wall. Crosscut pulled out a canteen and splashed Chimera with it. "Come on, kid. I think we're going to need you for what's next." He offered Chimera a hand up, then said, "Meet with Revel and Specter in the Reactor Room. We're making our final stand there."

Code Name: Witch Real Name: Samantha Choi Age: 24 Gender: Female Nationality: Korean-American Powers: Witch has telekinesis, similar to having an extra pair of long, strong, invisible arms. Limited to a range of twenty meters, the strength of her telekinesis is directly related to Witch’s physical strength and fatigue. The more in shape she is, the more weight she can carry. However, her telekinesis does not simply extend her reach; the weight she can carry through telekinesis versus how much she can normally carry is multiplied by a factor of ten. If Witch can lift up a one hundred pound object with her hands, she can lift a one thousand pound object through telekinesis. Other notes about her “arms”: Witch must be able to see what she is trying to carry. Her telekinesis can also be used to lift herself up, giving the impression she can fly or float. Finally, her “arms” are not only good for carrying things, but also smashing or tearing things. Again, they are like invisible arms, so anything a normal person could do with their arms, she can do with her extra ones. Origins/History: Samantha had a fairly privileged life prior to joining MetaOps. She attended college for a major in physics, but Sam still found enough free time to party almost every weekend (except for during midterms and finals. Nobody parties during midterms and finals). She didn’t get into any trouble during college, however, and graduated at 22 with a stellar GPA. After graduation, however, things got a little difficult. Sam had trouble finding a job, so she got on the next flight to Korean and stayed at her grandparents’ house in Seoul. It was in Seoul that Sam realized that she could pick things up from a distance, something she swore she couldn’t do beforehand. She began toying with her newfound power in the safety of her own home, slowly getting accustomed to using her extra arms. Sam began to piece together the details of her power; their effective distance, their strength, and how they related to her strength. It didn’t take long for her grandparents to find out she had telekinesis. After long deliberation, they ultimately decided to turn Sam in to the authorities. Sam refused, running from her grandparents’ home out of fear. However, Sam’s inherent recklessness kept getting her into trouble. She would abuse her power to try to steal from stores in order to survive on the streets of Seoul. For several months, Sam got along nicely in Seoul. However, her luck eventually ran out, and a shopkeeper noticed that he was being robbed. Sam managed to escape, but the security footage didn’t lie. The shopkeeper alerted the government right away. As soon as the guns started to be waved at Sam, she surrendered. She was held in isolation for several days while the Korean officials decided what to do with her. Ultimately, she was handed over to the US government and given to MetaOps. For her first year at MetaOps, much of her time was devoted to strengthening her powers and learning their limits, as well as extensive training in hand-to-hand combat. Sam found that she was a quick learner in hand-to-hand and quickly excelled. She’s no expert, but she’s pretty damn good at it. After that first year, Witch was deemed ready to go out into the field, and has since spent a year operating for MetaOps. Personality: Sam’s primary trait is that she is absolutely curious about everything. If she doesn’t know something to a satisfactory degree, Sam will question anyone she can until she does. However, her curiosity comes with a downside. Her inquisitive nature often leads to strong cynicism, so she finds herself questioning people’s motives more often than she’d like to admit to. Not to say that Sam is an absolute cynic. She still considers herself fortunate that MetaOps picked her up from the Korean government and that she doesn’t have to spend the rest of her life in a prison or lab somewhere, and Sam keeps that in mind at all times. She has utmost respect for authority within MetaOps and has fierce loyalty to the division. For the most part, Sam thinks in a procedural, rational manner, but it doesn’t take much for her to lose her cool. She’s young, she’s reckless, and MetaOps often finds itself having to clean up after her or reprimand her actions or rein her in. Appearance: Sam is small and unseeming, standing at only 5’4, but the nature of her power requires her to stay in excellent physical condition. She’s short, but she’s tough, and has a strong, muscular body to make up for her size. As for her other features, Sam has bleached and dyed her naturally black hair into a beach blonde color, wearing it in a medium-length ponytail. She wears thick frame glasses over her dark brown eyes which she replaces with contacts when she is sent on a mission. Speaking of which, her mission attire is a completely black, full-body jumpsuit, with pockets scattered over her legs in various sizes to carry a multitude of things. In addition to this, Sam wears military-grade combat boots and gloves and is more often than not found wearing a different kind of hat on her head. thank you for this image! Sam in her suit (minus the goggles) (the idea for Sam’s power was most definitely inspired by both Chronicle and Elfen Lied. in fact, I might as well have taken a carbon copy from both of them and placed it here, so you could most definitely refer to those if you want a clearer picture of Sam’s power!)

Revel Spectre wasn't the only one listening in. To the momentary skirmish between the Immortal and Hopper Revel was an ardent observer, fervent in his needless goal to have his important prediction come true. No matter how many times, Revel knew, he proved his power, there would always be those who doubted it. It was their loss if they didn't—they hadn't the slightest idea, after all, of his intentions, right down to why he was here risking his life in the first place. But proving himself to his 'allies' would be an important step in gaining their trust, and as invaluable resources went, trust in the right places outweighed gold. It came as a shock, then, when the news of Hopper's defeat penetrated him. Before the realization fully took hold, however, Revel had already determined that he wouldn't allow this to be a setback. Though he wanted nothing more than to bulldoze over Spectre's gibbering with the exact specifics, he took enough time to think that she was done speaking before the positions of the pieces had become clear to him. The agony of Evil Eyes, in the meantime, shook him not. “No. By now the Immortal's probably used to dealing with the Chimera. I don't know about the Elementalist. I think I have a better plan, though. You overlooked one crucial thing!” Revel was forced to shout as he flinched in response to the death-bent meta's dynamic entry into the reactor room. “Not legs. Leg. I know that Hopper only needs one to deliver a kick strong enough to make that push.” As the Immortal drifted closer, briefly trying to dilute his pain with the savory taste of victory, Revel attuned his com to Crosscut. “Crosscut! Bring Hopper in here. I think there's something he needs to see. I'm going to give him a way.” Fiendishly, Revel accentuated his voice in a dramatic twist that sounded every bit like he was about to martyr himself and give his allies a chance. The Immortal landed before the lip of the reactor pit, looking down at the font of raw power perhaps capable of finally ending his torment. “Primitive ape!” Revel called, lashing his whips against the ground to grab the Immortal's attention. “I see now that the only way into your thick skull is what you asked—everything I've got! Your madness stops here!” So shouting, the string-puller fired both his whips straight at the Immortal's face, where they could be easily grabbed and pulled. Even though he had affirmed the validity of his precognition, Revel sweated profusely. The line between what he predicted naturally and what his ability provided to him grew remarkably thin at times. Would the Immortal actually fall for it? Or was it merely an idea that Revel thought up on his own and mistook for fate?

Code Name: Revel Real Name: Mòric Syg Age: 29 Gender: Male Nationality: Hungarian Powers: The only superpower Revel has is a limited form of precognition. Though he can't see the future, technically, Revel simply knows it. Knowledge from the future simply manifests in his brain, like a hidden memory suddenly provoked. Revel is able to identify that said information is from the future, as well as from how far forward it came. The longest he's ever been able to know something before its occurrence is two hours. After developing this power for a while, Revel realized that this knowledge comes from futures that can be, not futures that are, and grew to be able to figure out the consequences of certain actions before performing them. Revel wields two bracers that each contain lengths of cord. In response to certain nerve impulses, the cords can be extended, retracted, or electrified. This is not a power; merely a weapon. Origins/History: Though he was born in Hungary, Mòric's parents had no intention of keeping him there. The road to the United States was a hard one, but in the end the little family departed for the new world. They had heard tales of a land of opportunity, where even the poorest men could become legendary through the strength of their will and the work of their hands, but after arriving they found another side to the story altogether. Nowadays Revel remembers little, particularly the circumstances leading up to the defining event of his youth, but he keenly recalls the stinging abandonment. Though Revel inwardly suspects they couldn't take properly take care of him or provide for him, an acknowledged possibility is that they simply didn't want him after all. Luck smiled upon the fair-haired dark child, however, and a traveling carnival of dubious repute took him in. A childhood spent among such a wacky assembly greatly influenced his character; Revel learned hierarchy, trickery, theatricality, deception, and how to manipulate. As a teenager he served as the ringmaster, the youngest to date, introducing and playing a part with incredible feats to keep the crowd enthralled and its money in hand. In his spare time, he attended several schools as the circus traveled, getting expelled from one after another but never giving up his quest for knowledge. Revel's own psyche, already decidedly misaligned, continued down its skewed path. His ambitions and intellect reached far, far beyond entertainment. It was during this time that he realized he had supernatural ability to see a short way into the future, and without either questioning or hesitation he accepted his gift and put it to use. Years later, a new boss took over the carnival, despite the rumors of abductions and experimentation. Willow, daughter of a recent immigrant to the United States from Vietnam and a self-made woman, was determined to set the despicable community to rights. Slowly, her enlightening, positive influence and vast intelligence permeated every carny of the lot save one: Revel. After weeks in seclusion, avoiding his boss while devouring company funds at an incredible rate, he emerged from his mobile laboratory bedecked in strange clothes and wielding sinister technology. He approached Willow at her desk and let loose a swarm of nanites upon her. The microscopic swarm of robots integrated themselves with the woman from head to toe, placing her squarely under Revel's influence. Revel's first triumph catalyzed a wave of terror as the entire carnival collapsed, all resources heading straight to the String Puller as he weaseled his way into infamy. Shortly thereafter Revel disappeared, and began in secret a cult using his precognitive abilities to gain followers. Guessing that he wasn't the only superpowered person in the world, Revel set about making armaments for himself and his followers, and endeavored to learn more about others like him. When Revel caught wind through an associate named Quaily that the MetaOps project and been formed and was combing the country for suitable recruits. With this in mind, Revel severed ties from his cult, making sure his past was well hidden, left his second-in-command in charge, and allowed himself to be captured by MetaOps operatives during a feigned robbery. When offered a chance for redemption by project administrators, he grudgingly conceded. Personality: Revel is slimy and secretive, with little to no morality limiting his ambitions and the meeting of his goals. He is outwardly charming but inwardly misogynistic and narcissistic. In fact he is incredibly sexist, enjoying having control over females in any aspect from their fear to their form. His ultimate passion is to control and contort, and he has a curiosity that has led him to experiment. The fact that he has created a cult with him as the head is a testament to his manipulative ability and charisma. Revel is the ultimate ringleader, the shadow and the plot behind the front lines, the cult leader playing chess with people. A knack for adapting to the situation at hand and learning from his failures make him particularly dangerous. In everyday circumstances, he is very capable of feigning ordinary emotion, and hides his...eccentricities. One thing he greatly enjoys is to guess what other people are going to say before they do so, and then be right. Appearance: Revel wears the same gear he wore during his feigned robbery, reasoning that it will 'remind of the past self he's trying to redeem'. He is slightly farsighted and speaks with a hint of a Hungarian accent.

Crosscut teleported into the Reactor Room just in time to hear Revel's plan for Hopper. "On it," he said before teleporting back out near Hopper's position. "Come on, buddy. Up you go," Crosscut said as he lifted Hopper up on the side with the damaged leg. "Some leader I am," he said, before the two disappeared from their spot and reappeared in the Reactor Room. "Alright Revel, what did you want to..." Crosscut started, before seeing Revel begin his plan to finally defeat The Immortal. As Revel's whips sliced through the air, targeting The Immortal's face, The Immortal raised his hand in front of him. The whips, instead of cracking against The Immortal's head, wrapped around his arm. "I had wondered where you had run off, too. It's a pleasant thought that neither you nor the rest of your team would die a coward's death," he said before pulling his arm back. The Immortal then swung his arm to send Revel careening towards the reactor's pit. The Immortal believed that Revel had played right into his hands, little did he know that it was quite the opposite.

Code Name: Witch Real Name: Samantha Choi Age: 24 Gender: Female Nationality: Korean-American Powers: Witch has telekinesis, similar to having an extra pair of long, strong, invisible arms. Limited to a range of twenty meters, the strength of her telekinesis is directly related to Witch’s physical strength and fatigue. The more in shape she is, the more weight she can carry. However, her telekinesis does not simply extend her reach; the weight she can carry through telekinesis versus how much she can normally carry is multiplied by a factor of ten. If Witch can lift up a one hundred pound object with her hands, she can lift a one thousand pound object through telekinesis. Other notes about her “arms”: Witch must be able to see what she is trying to carry. Her telekinesis can also be used to lift herself up, giving the impression she can fly or float. Finally, her “arms” are not only good for carrying things, but also smashing or tearing things. Again, they are like invisible arms, so anything a normal person could do with their arms, she can do with her extra ones. Origins/History: Samantha had a fairly privileged life prior to joining MetaOps. She attended college for a major in physics, but Sam still found enough free time to party almost every weekend (except for during midterms and finals. Nobody parties during midterms and finals). She didn’t get into any trouble during college, however, and graduated at 22 with a stellar GPA. After graduation, however, things got a little difficult. Sam had trouble finding a job, so she got on the next flight to Korean and stayed at her grandparents’ house in Seoul. It was in Seoul that Sam realized that she could pick things up from a distance, something she swore she couldn’t do beforehand. She began toying with her newfound power in the safety of her own home, slowly getting accustomed to using her extra arms. Sam began to piece together the details of her power; their effective distance, their strength, and how they related to her strength. It didn’t take long for her grandparents to find out she had telekinesis. After long deliberation, they ultimately decided to turn Sam in to the authorities. Sam refused, running from her grandparents’ home out of fear. However, Sam’s inherent recklessness kept getting her into trouble. She would abuse her power to try to steal from stores in order to survive on the streets of Seoul. For several months, Sam got along nicely in Seoul. However, her luck eventually ran out, and a shopkeeper noticed that he was being robbed. Sam managed to escape, but the security footage didn’t lie. The shopkeeper alerted the government right away. As soon as the guns started to be waved at Sam, she surrendered. She was held in isolation for several days while the Korean officials decided what to do with her. Ultimately, she was handed over to the US government and given to MetaOps. For her first year at MetaOps, much of her time was devoted to strengthening her powers and learning their limits, as well as extensive training in hand-to-hand combat. Sam found that she was a quick learner in hand-to-hand and quickly excelled. She’s no expert, but she’s pretty damn good at it. After that first year, Witch was deemed ready to go out into the field, and has since spent a year operating for MetaOps. Personality: Sam’s primary trait is that she is absolutely curious about everything. If she doesn’t know something to a satisfactory degree, Sam will question anyone she can until she does. However, her curiosity comes with a downside. Her inquisitive nature often leads to strong cynicism, so she finds herself questioning people’s motives more often than she’d like to admit to. Not to say that Sam is an absolute cynic. She still considers herself fortunate that MetaOps picked her up from the Korean government and that she doesn’t have to spend the rest of her life in a prison or lab somewhere, and Sam keeps that in mind at all times. She has utmost respect for authority within MetaOps and has fierce loyalty to the division. For the most part, Sam thinks in a procedural, rational manner, but it doesn’t take much for her to lose her cool. She’s young, she’s reckless, and MetaOps often finds itself having to clean up after her or reprimand her actions or rein her in. Appearance: Sam is small and unseeming, standing at only 5’4, but the nature of her power requires her to stay in excellent physical condition. She’s short, but she’s tough, and has a strong, muscular body to make up for her size. As for her other features, Sam has bleached and dyed her naturally black hair into a beach blonde color, wearing it in a medium-length ponytail. She wears thick frame glasses over her dark brown eyes which she replaces with contacts when she is sent on a mission. Speaking of which, her mission attire is a completely black, full-body jumpsuit, with pockets scattered over her legs in various sizes to carry a multitude of things. In addition to this, Sam wears military-grade combat boots and gloves and is more often than not found wearing a different kind of hat on her head. thank you for this image! Sam in her suit (minus the goggles) (the idea for Sam’s power was most definitely inspired by both Chronicle and Elfen Lied. in fact, I might as well have taken a carbon copy from both of them and placed it here, so you could most definitely refer to those if you want a clearer picture of Sam’s power!)

Revel Suppressed triumph flashed on Revel's face, soon replaced by suppressed fear, as he flew toward the Immortal and sailed over his head into the pit. "Maniac!" he yelled for emphasis while plummeting downward. Each moment, the air grew hotter and thicker, as if the barely-stabilized, raw power of the nuclear reactor eked its chaos into its surroundings. Once he was sure that the Immortal wasn't looking after him, the string-puller activated the electric surge in his gauntlets, causing the magnetic fibers of his gloves to adhere to the sheer metal face in front of him. He stopped, gasping in pain, at a halt abrupt enough to make his arms feel as if they had been wrenched from their sockets, and after spending a moment to make sure that everything was, indeed, in one piece, he began to ascend. Not wishing to die in a nuclear meltdown, Revel ardently hoped that the others were doing his job. To be honest, he was stunned that Spectre hadn't tried to kill him then and there. She was the grudge-holding, self-confident type, quite clearly, probably thought she stood a chance at taking him down. Revel read her thoroughly, filling in with probable guess what his ability would not illuminate. For fun, he played out a duel between the both of them in his mind as he slowly climbed. If it was a straight fist-fight, there was no contest, but Revel hardly expected such a woman to fight fair. She had knives, grenades, and a power capable of reducing him to pulp. Fortunately, there was no recombination of events he could think of that he allowed her to get close enough to do so. Grenades could be avoided, and it was hard to run straight in and stab with two electrified ripcords in her face. If she attempted to use her power, Revel thought, he would grab her, either with hand or whip, and pump her full of voltage. The pain that she had exhibited when using her phasing in contact with the Immortal had hinted at an aversion to organic matter--or, at least, one of its properties. Revel didn't think it would ever come to fighting her, however. The future glinted in his favor, as it would always.

Code Name: Revel Real Name: Mòric Syg Age: 29 Gender: Male Nationality: Hungarian Powers: The only superpower Revel has is a limited form of precognition. Though he can't see the future, technically, Revel simply knows it. Knowledge from the future simply manifests in his brain, like a hidden memory suddenly provoked. Revel is able to identify that said information is from the future, as well as from how far forward it came. The longest he's ever been able to know something before its occurrence is two hours. After developing this power for a while, Revel realized that this knowledge comes from futures that can be, not futures that are, and grew to be able to figure out the consequences of certain actions before performing them. Revel wields two bracers that each contain lengths of cord. In response to certain nerve impulses, the cords can be extended, retracted, or electrified. This is not a power; merely a weapon. Origins/History: Though he was born in Hungary, Mòric's parents had no intention of keeping him there. The road to the United States was a hard one, but in the end the little family departed for the new world. They had heard tales of a land of opportunity, where even the poorest men could become legendary through the strength of their will and the work of their hands, but after arriving they found another side to the story altogether. Nowadays Revel remembers little, particularly the circumstances leading up to the defining event of his youth, but he keenly recalls the stinging abandonment. Though Revel inwardly suspects they couldn't take properly take care of him or provide for him, an acknowledged possibility is that they simply didn't want him after all. Luck smiled upon the fair-haired dark child, however, and a traveling carnival of dubious repute took him in. A childhood spent among such a wacky assembly greatly influenced his character; Revel learned hierarchy, trickery, theatricality, deception, and how to manipulate. As a teenager he served as the ringmaster, the youngest to date, introducing and playing a part with incredible feats to keep the crowd enthralled and its money in hand. In his spare time, he attended several schools as the circus traveled, getting expelled from one after another but never giving up his quest for knowledge. Revel's own psyche, already decidedly misaligned, continued down its skewed path. His ambitions and intellect reached far, far beyond entertainment. It was during this time that he realized he had supernatural ability to see a short way into the future, and without either questioning or hesitation he accepted his gift and put it to use. Years later, a new boss took over the carnival, despite the rumors of abductions and experimentation. Willow, daughter of a recent immigrant to the United States from Vietnam and a self-made woman, was determined to set the despicable community to rights. Slowly, her enlightening, positive influence and vast intelligence permeated every carny of the lot save one: Revel. After weeks in seclusion, avoiding his boss while devouring company funds at an incredible rate, he emerged from his mobile laboratory bedecked in strange clothes and wielding sinister technology. He approached Willow at her desk and let loose a swarm of nanites upon her. The microscopic swarm of robots integrated themselves with the woman from head to toe, placing her squarely under Revel's influence. Revel's first triumph catalyzed a wave of terror as the entire carnival collapsed, all resources heading straight to the String Puller as he weaseled his way into infamy. Shortly thereafter Revel disappeared, and began in secret a cult using his precognitive abilities to gain followers. Guessing that he wasn't the only superpowered person in the world, Revel set about making armaments for himself and his followers, and endeavored to learn more about others like him. When Revel caught wind through an associate named Quaily that the MetaOps project and been formed and was combing the country for suitable recruits. With this in mind, Revel severed ties from his cult, making sure his past was well hidden, left his second-in-command in charge, and allowed himself to be captured by MetaOps operatives during a feigned robbery. When offered a chance for redemption by project administrators, he grudgingly conceded. Personality: Revel is slimy and secretive, with little to no morality limiting his ambitions and the meeting of his goals. He is outwardly charming but inwardly misogynistic and narcissistic. In fact he is incredibly sexist, enjoying having control over females in any aspect from their fear to their form. His ultimate passion is to control and contort, and he has a curiosity that has led him to experiment. The fact that he has created a cult with him as the head is a testament to his manipulative ability and charisma. Revel is the ultimate ringleader, the shadow and the plot behind the front lines, the cult leader playing chess with people. A knack for adapting to the situation at hand and learning from his failures make him particularly dangerous. In everyday circumstances, he is very capable of feigning ordinary emotion, and hides his...eccentricities. One thing he greatly enjoys is to guess what other people are going to say before they do so, and then be right. Appearance: Revel wears the same gear he wore during his feigned robbery, reasoning that it will 'remind of the past self he's trying to redeem'. He is slightly farsighted and speaks with a hint of a Hungarian accent.

Alexander Ziker - MicWiz Alex glanced at Chimera when he had reminded him that they needed to focus. He sighed and raked his hands through his hair, what were they supposed to do. They could not fight the Immortal, maybe if they were grouped together, but as they were, it was over. Ideas floated through his mind, but all seemed as impossible to do as the last. "The radiation is doing its job internally at the moment. With the amount of radioactive cells in his body, a normal human would die within a few hours." He mumbled despondently. "There is really no point to you doing that." He shrugged at he stood up. Alex looked at Michelle and nodded when she offered to take her body, supposedly she was not dead. He cracked his knuckles before walking towards the reactor. What ensued inside was chaos, Chimera was in a tunnel of wind, and Alex was supposed to get ready to for something. Despite all this, they were quickly shut down by the all powerfully monster that was the Immortal. The Elementist had been dropped a few feet, but it was apparent he was fine. It was not surprising to find the Hopper speaking to the Immortal. It was as if they were good friends, unfortunately it would most likely end in failure. And it did, Evil Eyes attacked the Immortal, his arm snapped and the Immortal continued. It was slightly amusing, this happened twice in a row, maybe they needed a room. Crosscut and Hopper tried fighting, but was quickly dispatched. Hoppers let destroyed, but Crosscut was doing fine. Even Angel tried to talk but she failed also, just being ignored by the beast. Revel's attempt seemed successful through. There fight was much more nerve racking, he and the Immortal tumbled down the center of the react, an extremely dangerous place to be. Alex ran after the duo, looking over the edge to see Revel ansending, but no sign of the Immortal. Alex created a platform under the body of Revel, if he wanted to lay or stand on it to get to the top faster. Hopefully this push would kill the Immortal, because. If it did not they would have failed.

Code Name: MicWiz Real Name: Alexander Ziker Age: 24 Nationality: Caucasian Powers: Energy Constructs Alex can create tools, weapons and other objects from Energy. He can create any can imagine but has to have a good idea how it functions. His constricts can be broken if the amount of force that is applied is greater than the amount the user's imagination can produce. Alexander can use this ability through a wand with a glowing, pink colored, diamonds shaped object on the top. His energy constructs are all colored neon pink. Origins: Alex grew up in a fairly normal environment. Despite having to raise a child as a single parent, his mother still did her best to give her child what he wanted. There was never a shortage of fun when it came to spending fun with his mother. Alex never knew his father, and truly never cared to ask about him. His mother did all she could to be a mother and a father to her son. She had the privilege of having a well paying job a computer programmer, giving her the opportunity to work at home, and spend time with her child. Alex was never a straight A student, but he did what he could in school. Alex was fortunate enough to get into a good collage. Unfortunately, Alex struggled with school, stress angered him, but he hid it with humor. To make things worse, his mother was starting to have health problems. Alex was slowly getting depressed, and for the first time in his life he wished he had a father. The was the lowest point in his life, once he hit his Jr. Year, Alex barely went to school anymore. His mother could not do anything to help her son, since she had a hard time even helping herself. This was the time when hour begin to develop his powers. Alex retreated to his imagination during this time, hopping to escape from the world around him, maybe to unwind. When what he thought up came into existence, he was astonished, disappointed that it was pink, but was amazed. He showed his mother this power, but when she saw it, she was not amazed, instead, she was horrified. She contacted the authorities and he was taken into custody. Alex was soon handed over to MetaOps, since then he has been trained to control his ability. Learn how it works, widen and make more use of his imagination, he will soon be ready to be sent out. Unfortunately, Alex still has mixed feelings about his mother. Personality: Alex is easygoing, upbeat, energetic, funny, flirty and loves to tell jokes, even if they aren't funny. Alex is genuinely very intelligent and honest, and cares about his friends and family. He sometimes doesn't think before reacting and he enjoys pulling pranks on people, especially those who he doesn't like. Despite his jokey attitude, Alex has been shown to have a serious side, which happens when he is angered by someone or when the situation calls for it.

Hopper was just...standing there. How could he just...get brushed aside like that? It was one thing for a normal limb to not be able to stop him, but Hopper's were beyond normal, beyond anything human...and with just a flick of his wrist, the Immortal had destroyed and mangled his left leg. Supported by Crosscut, Hopper hobbled along, watching in horror as The Immortal flung one of his teammates into the pit. That easy...for just one man to have all that power was shocking and horrifying to him. He wasn't even a meta, but he'd always been able to assist in some way, or to come up with a plan, but this? They were fighting a man who was beyond invincible, he was practically a god. His breathing growing shaky beneath his helmet, Hopper realized something. He was SCARED of the Immortal. Scared of the man who couldn't be hurt, scared of the man who could beat anyone he wished, scared that he'd kill him and everyone else in the team. He was scared of a meta for the first time in his career. But right now, the fear was being kept deep down, tucked somewhere in his chest as he started to not only fear, but HATE the Immortal. Such a man was using such power, such overwhelming force to push people aside and take lives. All for the sake of his own selfish self-sacrifice. Hopper had tried diplomacy and failed, tried force and failed, but now...now he wasn't being watched. Now another team mate was going to die. Now was the time to act. A single leg was all Hopper needed to jump, though his balance was shaky, to say the least. But nonetheless, it was a ridiculous jump, one that no human could make alone. One with force that was impossible to match by anything but his legs. With shattering force, Hopper SMASHED his foot into The Immortal's back, willing to take him down before someone else had to die.

Code Name: Hopper Real Name: Jun Li Shi (Just goes by Jun, for your convenience and mine.) Age: 27 Gender: Male Nationality: Hong Kong Chinese Powers: Advanced Robotic Lower Body: Jun’s lower body has been completely replaced with mechanical implants that go well beyond military grade, giving him the capabilities to run faster, longer, and harder than any normal human being alive. He can also jump absurd heights and distances, survive falls from immense heights due to the stabilizers in his feet and hips, and knees. His kicks have more than enough force to shatter and bend materials such as concrete, weaker metals up to iron, and human bones. Needless to say, getting kicked by him is beyond painful. Helmet: Jun’s helmet is more than just a shield for his face, in the eyes it contains infrared, night vision, and heat scanning lenses that allow him to see better in almost any situations, provided he has his helmet. Given that he needs to communicate with the team often, he has had a communications system installed into his helmet. There’s also a sub-sonic speaker implemented into the neck that everyone but Jun can hear, that emits a particular noise... Origin: Born in the city of Hong Kong in 1988, Jun was born into a loving family as the only child to a biomedical engineer and architect, his mother and father respectively, nine years before the transfer of sovereignty to the People’s Republic of China. Even after the transfer of power occurred, Jun lived a rather happy life with his family, showing a great amount of intelligence even at a young age, even fully learning Cantonese, Mandarin, and English by the time he entered high school. Everything was going well for them, especially his mother since the Department of Mechanical Engineering of Hong Kong provided her project with additional funding, one which would give veteran amputees access to advanced prosthetic limbs to help them live their lives normally once more. Such advanced robotic prosthetics could have shaped the future of the world, given a man who lost his limbs the chance to hug his family again, to walk with them once more, and to fully reintegrate into society with fully functioning limbs. At least, that was how it should have gone. Three months before the final model of the limbs were completed, Jun, age 19, was just walking. A normal day in his normal life. Literally nothing was out of the ordinary, the wind was calm, the sun was out, the light to walk was on. But someone didn’t see. Ironic as it was that his future was all decided by something that could have happened to anyone, he was struck by a speeding car, driven by a drunk man he’d never even met. God was playing a joke that wasn’t funny to him. Immediately after being admitted to the hospital, the doctors were forced to amputate his legs, as every bone and tendon in them were crushed under the bumper and wheels of the vehicle. Were it not for his mother’s technology, Jun never would have walked again. Implementing the greatest advancements in prosthetic limbs, his mother fitted Jun with the prototype model of the AAMA, the Amputee Assistance Movement Apparatus, and, after two months of rehabilitation and adjustment, Jun was able to walk again. Being fitted with artificial hips and a conjoined segment of his spine, his legs worked even better than his original, he could run farther, and longer than ever, and he didn’t even feel tired after running half a marathon. It finally seemed like he was going to get his peaceful life back...all thanks to his mother. Just when things were looking up, and the AAMA was about to be ready for use in hospitals, the funding was mysteriously and anonymously cut entirely, leaving his mother outraged and angry. Of course, Jun himself was outraged as well. The very thing keeping him walking was being denied to people who would really need it, people whose lives it could restore in just a few months. Still...what could he and his family do? They were subject to the government above all else, and as such couldn’t really protest against where the funding was going. That was, until his mother was forcibly relocated to Shanghai. Jun and his father were even forbidden to see her, and, after a month, both started to worry. A month turned into 3, then into half a year as they simply recieved letters, letters from the government that were supposedly written by Jun’s mother. Yet, more than anyone, his father knew something was wrong. Stepping back a year, Jun had received a scholarship to the Hong Kong University of Medical Science himself, and had a year’s worth of hands-on experience tinkering with his own legs. Metal legs, strong, cold, unyielding...powerful, to say the least. Angered by what might have happened, Jun grew tired of living under a government that would deprive the world of the knowledge his mother could offer, a world where everyone could walk. Donning a disguise using an old, discarded Yamaha motorcycle helmet with the visor painted black, he put his modified legs to use on his (technically) terrorist rampage of breaking into government facilities in Shanghai, all in the purpose of finding out just what the government was up to. Though he never hurt anybody, Jun soon became wanted throughout all of China for crimes of treason against the government...though it was under a new name. A name given by a journalist who witnessed one of his now famous 30 ft. jumps using his robotic legs to clear the distance of two skycrapers in one bound. Quickly being dubbed: “The GrassHopper” the media took to shortening it to simply “Hopper” as he continued, uncaring of the consequences of his actions. That was, until, he actually found his mother. Jun had been captured before he knew what hit him...ameteur vigilantism didn’t exactly mean you were subtle, or could hide for long, and in his case, that meant that the government kicked his door down and arrested him. A day before he was to be executed, he had a strange encounter with a man who’d saved his mother, and escorted her and his father out of the country already. With new resolve, Jun joined MetaOps under the moniker of Hopper, ready to serve under the U.S. government as payment for saving his own, and his family’s lives. Personality: Jun personality wise is a pretty straight forward type of guy, not really the type to mince words or beat around the bush when something needs saying. Still, he has a decent sense of how others feel about things and is very sympathetic, willing to listen if someone is willing to talk. For how upbeat he is, a defeat can really get Jun down in the dumps, and he somewhat feels inadequate compared to most members of MetaOps, given that his defining ability is just that he’s a double amputee with robot legs to substitute a wheelchair. Still, he’s a pretty cool guy to talk to. Appearance:

Gloria - Specter Gloria had begun to wonder about the validity of bringing her plan to Revel in the first place. He didn't seem interested in anything except inserting himself into the plan in a way that seemed on the whole completely unnecessary. There was absolutely no need for Revel to pretend to die for the sake of getting Hopper angry enough for the kick. All they really need to was contact Hopper over the comms. It didn't matter, if Revel wanted to get himself killed Gloria didn't really care, after all the plan would work one way or another. Gloria was just glad that Hopper wasn't as disabled as she'd initially assumed, they still had a shot to make this work. And if it didn't, well they'd be the lucky ones, incinerated instantly as opposed to everyone else near the plant who would slowly decline and eventually die of complications of radiation poisoning. Gloria listened to her team make one last ditch attempt to stop the Immortal's advance. It sounded violent but Gloria knew the moment that Revel made the call for Hopper to be brought into the room that her plan was the only one that ended with everyone (save the Immortal) coming out alive. Seconds later Revel launched himself at the Immortal overacting his part to the extreme. She wouldn't be surprised if Hopper realized he was faking it. That man desperately needed to learn to bluff. Revel was of course tossed aside immediately and after falling significantly down the shaft latched onto the side. His sudden stop looked painful. Gloria wouldn't have been surprised if he'd dislocated his arms with that maneuver. Gloria heard the crunch that must have been Hopper's leg splintering as it made contact with the Immortal's back. Moments later Gloria saw the Immortal rocketing towards her at high speed. His flight powers must need time to compensate for sudden shock force and gravity. It didn't look like he had sufficient time to compensate for this. Gloria breathed in and out evenly, her heart was pounding wildly. Everything she'd done was nothing compared to this. Destroying someone of this power and magnitude, it left a bitter taste in Gloria's mouth but it was necessary. As the Immortal hurtled towards her Gloria jumped two feet in the air and her hand made contact with the falling man's boot. Without hesitation Gloria willed her molecules to shift there quantum frequency and at the same time to alter that of the Immortal's subatomic structure. Ever so slightly but it was enough that solid matter had no bearing on either of them. Pain shot up Gloria's arm from where her hand touched the Immortal's boot. She was of course used to the slight pain and extreme discomfort that came from phasing through regular humans but that was nothing compared to this. Normally Gloria could take people into her intangibility field very easily but clearly the Immortal was different. Whatever had given him his powers had amped up the natural electric charge that all living things carried and it was ripping through Gloria like a knife through paper. Gloria held on as the Immortal fell those last few feet. His body contacted the Reactor Core but instead of crashing into it, cracking the housing or anything else the Immortal began to sink into it's surface. Through his body Gloria could feel the dense materials the Reactor was constructed out of. Going through that much of that density may well have been enough to kill Gloria but as it was only her feet began to sink into the Reactor at a much slower rate than the Immortal she was fine. Gloria's breathing was becoming ragged and little white spots were bursting against her vision. She tried to blink them away but they stayed obscuring her sight. Everything started to become blurry. Gloria knew, even if everything else was fuzzy that she had to keep pushing the Immortal down. The impact of his fall had forced him most of the way into the Reactor but she just... had... to... push... him... those... last... few... feet... Gloria gave one almighty shove, her hands descending to the Reactor to make sure the Immortal made it all the way into the Core proper. For a millionth of a second Gloria could feel the raw, uncontrolled, wild, explosive power of the nuclear reaction through the last barrier and a shudder raced through her body. With the last of her strength Gloria yanked herself out of the incredibly dense reactor core and fell onto the outer casing. For one glorious moment Gloria could see the light streaming into the Core from the upper levels. She reached her hand up to touch it, her scrambled brain thinking it might be solid. Her vision started to blur and Gloria her strength spent and her mind floating away asked to the air. "Can I rest now?" The world started to spin and Gloria surrendered to the black, and the silence and the stillness. If her plan had failed she would never know. She'd wake with her sister and everything would be alright. The last thing that Gloria saw before she fell unconscious was an image of Cassie's face. Gloria collapsed with a smile on her own.

Code Name: Specter Real Name: Gloria Lieth Age: 19 Nationality: American Power: Intangibility – Simply put Gloria has the ability to shift the rate at which her molecules vibrate in order to pass through solid matter. The biggest exception to this is electricity, attempting to phase through anything that carries a heavy electric charge will cause her a great amount of pain. If the charge is towards the lower end but still present she may still be able to push through, this kind of stress of her powers will leave behind something akin to a severe friction burn on any exposed skin that went through the process, effects on clothing may vary by circumstance. If Gloria tries to reform inside a solid object her body will attempt to expel the foreign material with varied degrees of success. If it is a small portion of her body inside a comparatively less dense material then the material will warp and shift to accommodate that body part however if it is most of her body inside something like stone then she will experience excruciating pain her molecules fuse with the stone in a permanent and fatal manor. Organic matter carries a discernable electric charge. This means that the same rules apply to Gloria moving through a person as they do moving through electricity. Compared to something like an electric fence the charge that humans or animals carry is relatively low so Gloria could move through someone however it would hurt quite a bit. Reforming inside something with an electric charge would be suicide, Gloria may succeed in reforming but the charge of the matter she is moving through would kill her. However Gloria has discovered that if she moves through something with a low level charge and alternates solid and not very quickly she is able to fry circuitry, such as security systems or computers. Passing through vegetation is not a problem as the charge it carries is almost unnoticeable compared to other living things. The denser a substance is the more difficult for Gloria to move through it. Something like class would be fairly easy but something like lead or osmium would be much more difficult and possibly even dangerous depending on how much of it she is phasing through. Origins: Gloria grew up in New York City. Her home was not exactly a stable one. Both her parents Peter and Rose, worked constantly, her mother was a lawyer and her father a doctor. This meant that both Gloria and her little sister Cassandra lived well but there’s more to life than that. Because of their occupations neither of Gloria’s parents were home consistently and when they were home Gloria was not there favorite person. They saw Gloria as a deviant, unwilling or worse unable to fulfil their vision of what a daughter should be. On the best days they ignored her but on many of the less pleasant ones Gloria and her parents would get into violently loud arguments. Because of this Gloria stayed out quite often when she knew her parents might be home. She spent most of her time at pool halls or twenty four hour coffee shops. It wasn’t really a secret that Cassandra was Peter and Rose’s favorite but Gloria didn’t resent her sister for it. If you met Cassandra you’d know it was hard to resent her for anything. Cassie as Gloria called her was almost as unstable as Gloria’s home life. She had been diagnosed with schizophrenia at a young age, her parents however couldn’t bear to have her institutionalized. Usually her delusions were pretty tame but every now and then she’d have a serious fit. Peter and Rose didn’t see many of these, they were too busy working. To them Cassandra was there perfect daughter, they weren’t capable of seeing how seriously she needed help. Gloria didn’t like spending time at home, it contained very few pleasant memories for her but at times when she knew her parents were working she would stay none the less to keep her little sister calm. When Gloria was out she gave Cassie a cellphone, if anything scared or frightened her, or anything happened that Cassie couldn’t explain she was to call right away. The development of Gloria’s meta-gene when she was fourteen was the beginning of the end. At first her parents didn’t notice but Gloria’s control over her ability was spotty, she’d phase partway through things at the randomest times and soon enough it happened in public. Once a month Gloria, Rose Peter and Cassie all sat down for a family dinner. This family time once a month was hell for Gloria but Cassie five years younger than her sister seemed to love having everyone together, she didn’t see the tension between her parents and her older sister. For this reason when this time rolled around Gloria tried to be as pleasant as she could, to be the person that Peter and Rose wanted despite the fact that it was not who she was. Gloria helped her mother with dinner that night trying so hard to make this special for her sister. When she was taking the plates to the dining room table Gloria tripped on a piece of loose carpet and went careening towards the table plates flying everywhere. Some sort of instinct activated in Gloria then, a primal sense of self protection cause her power to activate that moment. It save her head from smashing into the fine oak but it doomed her in her parent’s eyes. Gloria passed straight through the table top with her entire family there to witness. At the best of time Peter and Rose were not tolerant people but finding out that there child was a mutant was the final straw for them. They removed her from school, couldn’t have that happening in public, what would the neighbors think? Then they forbid her to leave the house. Of course Gloria was happy to stay when both her parents were out if only to keep an eye on her little sister. At that point in her life the only reason that Gloria didn’t run away from home was because Cassie. The little girl need Gloria now more than ever. Cassie had always had an over active imagination which often enough fueled her delusions. Ever since she’d seen what Gloria could do her schizophrenia had incorporated it into her own personal reality. She’d become convinced that she also was a meta-human. That might have been okay if she thought she had telekinesis or pyrokinesis or energy manipulation or telepathy or anything else. Except Cassie didn’t dream up an ability like that. One that couldn’t hurt her. Cassie had started to believe that she could fly. At the beginning it was almost funny, seeing the eleven year old jumping off tables and chairs and laughing when she hit the ground. Two years after Gloria first discovered her powers when she was sixteen things turned dangerous. Gloria came home one day to find Cassandra standing on the railing of the back deck, fifteen feet off the ground. “I’m gonna do it this time sis.” She shouted with a smile on her face, before Gloria could do anything Cassandra leapt from the railing. She broke both of her legs and fractured her collarbone. Gloria called 911, when Peter and Rose got home they wouldn’t believe that there dear sweet innocent Cassie had actually jumped off a fifteen foot deck. The real answer seemed obvious, Gloria had pushed her sister off the deck out of jealously. No matter how many times Gloria told them what happened they refused to believe it. It was only Cassandra’s insistence that Gloria had gotten home after the fall that kept her from ending up in Juvi. Three months later after Cassie’s bones had healed Gloria’s relationship with her parents had deteriorated further, to the point where Gloria couldn’t be in the same room with them without an argument starting. That fateful night Gloria stormed out of the house not wanted to be there when Peter and Rose returned. She went down to the pool halls were she wasn’t too bad at hustle guys out of there cash. That night Gloria got a phone call in that special phone she’d reserved for her sister. She picked up with haste leaving a game mid play and forfeiting her bet. “Cassie what’s wrong?” “There’s something in the attic with me sis. I’m scared, but one of the windows in the attic is open. I’m gonna fly away from it. I’m going to be alright.” Gloria’s heart nearly stopped, she began to run for home as fast as her legs would carry her as she tried to talk her sister down. “Cassie don’t do this. Whatever’s in the attic with you isn’t scary enough to waste your powers on it, your powers are special. They should be used for special things.” Gloria had learned that directly opposing Cassie’s delusions was a mistake. Her little sister would get irritable and angry and Gloria couldn’t calm her down. “Its big sis, it’s got horns.” “Cassie I’m almost at the house, don’t do anything till I get there.” “It’s coming for my Glory. I have to fly. I have too.” Gloria rounded the corner to the street her house was on. She shoved open the gate with enough force to smash it into the fence beside. Gloria ran up the walk just in time to hear her sister’s scream and see her body hit the ground. In shock Gloria gathered her little sister in her arms, she wasn’t even twelve yet and she seemed so small all broken. She tried to smile and Gloria could see blood coating her teeth. “It didn’t get me sis, I flew. Did you see?” Gloria smiled tears streaming down her eyes. “I saw, my little angel, you flew. It was beautiful.” The smile on Cassandra’s face was so innocent it broke Gloria’s heart. “I… I have to go somewhere else now don’t I?” Gloria couldn’t answer. How did you respond to a dying girls last words? Cassie reached up a hand and touched Gloria’s chest right below her collarbone. “Don’t worry sis, I’ll always be there for you. Right there.” She said pocking Gloria’s chest, smearing blood on her tank top. That was how Peter and Rose found the two of them three house later. Cassandra’s broken body being cradled by a despondent Gloria who was still crying and holding Cassie in her arms. “My god Gloria, what did you do?” said Peter looking on the scene with horror. This snapped Gloria out of whatever state she’d been existing in before. Her pain and anguish quickly turning to anger. “You can’t possibly think… I’m your daughter, her sister. I would never… but then what do you know about me? What do you know about either of us? Maybe if you’d bothered to come home every once in a while you might have been able to stop her from jumping.” “Jumping?” said Rose in shock. “You can’t possibly think we’d believe this was self-inflicted? Our daughter would never commit suicide.” “Mom! You’re daughter was schizophrenic, she needed help. Help you weren’t willing to admit might be necessary. Her blood in on your hands.” Peter’s eyes narrowed. “No actually I think it’s on your hands.” he said gesturing down Gloria’s hands which were indeed stained wither her sisters blood. “Rose call the police.” Gloria watched in horror as her mother pulled out a cellphone. “Police, I’d like to report a murder. My daughter is dead, yes I know who did it. She’s still here. Get here as quick as possible I don’t think we can hold her for long.” Gloria looked between her parents and realized two very important things, they’d never really loved her, and they were determined to see her jailed for Cassandra’s death. Gloria started to run. “No you don’t.” shouted Peter moving to intercept. Gloria didn’t stop she just kept running and as she approached her father her both moved through his. Pain crackled through her limbs that Gloria didn’t fully understand but shock, horror, and grief dulled its edge so that she barely felt it. Gloria didn’t stop running till she was ten blocks from her house. She used the little money she had on her to buy new, clean clothing and she wiped the blood from her skin. This began Gloria’s life on the streets. It took six months before the police gave up on finding her. Of course officially her file was still open and she was still wanted but after that amount of time no one expected her to be found. She stayed in New York, using her gift to steal what she needed. A neat trick she discovered was that if she made her stomach intangible she could store shoplifted items in it for several minutes before she started to feel like she was choking. Gloria did what she had to, to survive. Six months ago her jobs finally caught up with her. She was hired by a local fence to steal a diamond ring from a safety deposit body. It was a trap set by MetaOps. They’d gotten winds of her exploits, the vault were the diamond was held had been retrofitted with an electrically charged grid in all of the walls, floor and ceiling which was activated once she was inside. After that they used insulated cuffs that were wired to transport her to a holding facility. Her choices were simple, join the MetaOps project or spent the next two to five years in jail for the various crimes she’d committed to get by. Personality: Gloria has a prominent wild streak to her and enjoyed partying, drinking, and having sex. Often enough she’ll use a guy and dump him without forming any sort of emotional ties. She can also be careless and irresponsible, Gloria treats serious matters more lightly than she probably should. She is generally carefree and laid-back, causing her to view people who take matters serious as being wound too tight. Gloria doesn’t really want to be in any sort of leadership position on the team because of a deep seated fear that her mistakes could cost them a lot just like with her sister. She explains this reluctance to take command of a situation by nonchalantly saying it’s too much of a hassle. When she wants to be Gloria can be both forceful and persuasive, she could be a decent leader given the chance. Gloria frequently proved herself to be impulsive. She is known for her quick, easily irritated nature, something her father described as the "Lieth temper". Gloria has deep issues with parental figures, due to being raised by neglectful, absent parents while she was young. Nonetheless, she has a deep yearning for a family. She has many trust issues, always fearing that she will be betrayed or hurt if she lets someone in. Often enough she is incapable of understanding why someone would show kindness with nothing to gain for themselves. She is always suspicious of people who take an interest in her. Gloria shows hostility to those she doesn't trust or doesn't know but on the one hand, she would display extreme loyalty to those who were close to her and cared for her, yet that hasn’t happened since her sister died. Appearance:

The Immortal watched as Revel flew towards the pit of the reactor, distracting him from the threat behind him. The previously dazed and confused Hopper, having seen yet another team member supposedly be killed, had now snapped out of the shock he had been in from his leg being broken. Suddenly, The Immortal felt the impact of Hopper's foot hitting his back, sending him towards the reactor. Before he could change his course, The Immortal felt Specter's hands grab his feet. "Huh? What are you-" he began, but suddenly he impacted with the reactor. No, he was phasing through it. He hadn't yet figured out what was happening to him and tried struggling, but the feeling of phasing was too unfamiliar to him. The Immortal now found himself inside that which he had come to destroy. "You think this will stop me?" he said before pulling back his fist to strike his new prison. With all the force he could muster, his now solid fist struck the inner shell of the core. Pain suddenly traveled up his arm as he only dented his target. Finally, he realized what had just happened. They had sent him inside the reactor, where the radiation was now not only weakening, but killing him. Before he lost consciousness, he said two words that, albeit, would go unheard. "Thank you." Crosscut teleported first to Revel, getting him out of his predicament. Next, he made his way to the unconscious Specter and lifted her over his shoulders. While carrying her, he also used his own body to act as his crutch for Hopper. As the team exited from the facility, civilians who had been waiting outside the facility began to cheer. Crosscut viewed the crowd angrily. These people should have been trying to evacuate, not trying to record it for their blogs and Facebook posts. Not only that, but the team had a man down. This wasn't a time to celebrate. Crosscut gathered the team around him, radioed Stratos to meet them back at base, and teleported all of the team back to HQ. "Welcome back, team," The Director said as everyone appeared before him. He motioned for two MPs to take Witch's body be taken to the base's morgue, then turned to Evil Eyes. "Head to the infirmary to get your arm fixed up, then pack your things. You're off the team." The Director looked back at to the rest of the team. "The rest of you can go do whatever you want. Hey some R&R. You're all dismissed."

Code Name: Witch Real Name: Samantha Choi Age: 24 Gender: Female Nationality: Korean-American Powers: Witch has telekinesis, similar to having an extra pair of long, strong, invisible arms. Limited to a range of twenty meters, the strength of her telekinesis is directly related to Witch’s physical strength and fatigue. The more in shape she is, the more weight she can carry. However, her telekinesis does not simply extend her reach; the weight she can carry through telekinesis versus how much she can normally carry is multiplied by a factor of ten. If Witch can lift up a one hundred pound object with her hands, she can lift a one thousand pound object through telekinesis. Other notes about her “arms”: Witch must be able to see what she is trying to carry. Her telekinesis can also be used to lift herself up, giving the impression she can fly or float. Finally, her “arms” are not only good for carrying things, but also smashing or tearing things. Again, they are like invisible arms, so anything a normal person could do with their arms, she can do with her extra ones. Origins/History: Samantha had a fairly privileged life prior to joining MetaOps. She attended college for a major in physics, but Sam still found enough free time to party almost every weekend (except for during midterms and finals. Nobody parties during midterms and finals). She didn’t get into any trouble during college, however, and graduated at 22 with a stellar GPA. After graduation, however, things got a little difficult. Sam had trouble finding a job, so she got on the next flight to Korean and stayed at her grandparents’ house in Seoul. It was in Seoul that Sam realized that she could pick things up from a distance, something she swore she couldn’t do beforehand. She began toying with her newfound power in the safety of her own home, slowly getting accustomed to using her extra arms. Sam began to piece together the details of her power; their effective distance, their strength, and how they related to her strength. It didn’t take long for her grandparents to find out she had telekinesis. After long deliberation, they ultimately decided to turn Sam in to the authorities. Sam refused, running from her grandparents’ home out of fear. However, Sam’s inherent recklessness kept getting her into trouble. She would abuse her power to try to steal from stores in order to survive on the streets of Seoul. For several months, Sam got along nicely in Seoul. However, her luck eventually ran out, and a shopkeeper noticed that he was being robbed. Sam managed to escape, but the security footage didn’t lie. The shopkeeper alerted the government right away. As soon as the guns started to be waved at Sam, she surrendered. She was held in isolation for several days while the Korean officials decided what to do with her. Ultimately, she was handed over to the US government and given to MetaOps. For her first year at MetaOps, much of her time was devoted to strengthening her powers and learning their limits, as well as extensive training in hand-to-hand combat. Sam found that she was a quick learner in hand-to-hand and quickly excelled. She’s no expert, but she’s pretty damn good at it. After that first year, Witch was deemed ready to go out into the field, and has since spent a year operating for MetaOps. Personality: Sam’s primary trait is that she is absolutely curious about everything. If she doesn’t know something to a satisfactory degree, Sam will question anyone she can until she does. However, her curiosity comes with a downside. Her inquisitive nature often leads to strong cynicism, so she finds herself questioning people’s motives more often than she’d like to admit to. Not to say that Sam is an absolute cynic. She still considers herself fortunate that MetaOps picked her up from the Korean government and that she doesn’t have to spend the rest of her life in a prison or lab somewhere, and Sam keeps that in mind at all times. She has utmost respect for authority within MetaOps and has fierce loyalty to the division. For the most part, Sam thinks in a procedural, rational manner, but it doesn’t take much for her to lose her cool. She’s young, she’s reckless, and MetaOps often finds itself having to clean up after her or reprimand her actions or rein her in. Appearance: Sam is small and unseeming, standing at only 5’4, but the nature of her power requires her to stay in excellent physical condition. She’s short, but she’s tough, and has a strong, muscular body to make up for her size. As for her other features, Sam has bleached and dyed her naturally black hair into a beach blonde color, wearing it in a medium-length ponytail. She wears thick frame glasses over her dark brown eyes which she replaces with contacts when she is sent on a mission. Speaking of which, her mission attire is a completely black, full-body jumpsuit, with pockets scattered over her legs in various sizes to carry a multitude of things. In addition to this, Sam wears military-grade combat boots and gloves and is more often than not found wearing a different kind of hat on her head. thank you for this image! Sam in her suit (minus the goggles) (the idea for Sam’s power was most definitely inspired by both Chronicle and Elfen Lied. in fact, I might as well have taken a carbon copy from both of them and placed it here, so you could most definitely refer to those if you want a clearer picture of Sam’s power!)

Drake had spent most of the last part of the fight completely and utterly wasted, and he wasn't really surprised. That tends to happen when you're in a fragile human form and thrown against a wall by both the strength of the Immortal and the force of a wind strong enough to throw you that way... To be honest he was surprised all he received was a concussion from the whole ordeal. As soon as he got back to the base, he vaguely heard the directors instructions, but honestly he focused mostly on getting Izzy to the infirmary. Sure others were there to do it, and sure she would probably heal, but his concussion caused him to be so absolutely confused he found himself only able to focus on this task. And so with much effort, he turned back into his form of the Chimera and slowly moved through the halls, carrying both Izzy and Gloria on his back as he did. Soon he found himself stumbling into the infirmary, looking around with a slight frown as the nurses and doctor looked at him in terror. Well, he supposed given how he looked right now, that was to be expected. "They both need help..." He mumbled simply.

Code Name: Chimera Real Name: Drake Marble Age: 18 Gender: Male Race: He's an all-American mutt, with Indian, Native American, Irish, German, Mexican, and pretty much anything else you could think of, but he comes from America. Powers: Drake is a shapeshifter, but strangely enough he can't use his powers correctly. Instead of simply being able to turn into something or someone at will, for some reason he simply can't do it. Instead, he must observe an animal or person he wants to turn into for almost hours at a time in order to perform the shift, so instead of simply trying to master several forms he's only mastered one, something which he calls the "Chimera". The Chimera is a massive beast almost the size of an elephant, and is a mix of the most deadly creatures in the world. It has the head and claws of a wolf, wings of a giant bat, the tail of a lemur, the horns of a rhinoceros, and a scorpions barb on the end of its tail. Drake is always trying to find room for improvement on this form, always researching animals to make it more effective in battle. As the Chimera he has incredible strength and speed, as well as the ability to hear and smell things from miles away. His wings allow him to fly for large distances, and even carry others with him at times. Origins/History: Drake came from a very normal, ordinary family with only one exception: his parents were both 'gifted'. His father was a shapeshifter, his mother had the ability to neutralize or negate most powers through genetic telekinesis. They assumed, given his mothers powers, that Drake would be a normal boy with no need to worry about things such as powers... They were greatly mistaken. Instead, what they got was a boy who's powers were absolutely out of control from a young age. He was completely unable to control his shifting, turning into the randomest animals at the most unpredictable times. So, Drakes mother used her powers in an attempt to permanently negate her sons abilities, and this did work... To an extent. Now Drake has to struggle in order to shift into something, sometimes to the point where it hurts, and his out of control powers did have a lasting effect on him. To this day his ears are permanently trapped in the form of a wolf, causing him to be highly sensitive to sound at times, as well as his hands always having the retractable claws of a cat. However he reuses to simply let his gift go to waste. Instead, ignoring his parents warnings, he set off to go use his strange power to help people, and to protect them... So far it hasn't been working that well for him however. He joined the MetaOps after another failed attempt to help someone, this time a woman being mugged. He had saved her of course, but at the very sight of the terrifying creature she had screamed and ran. This , a lot with several other incidents, caused the government to become involved and to attempt to detain him. However, they found the boy was extremely reasonable and willing to go without question. Soon enough, he was recruited to join the team with the promise hat he could use his powers to do the most good. Personality: Drake is a fun , easy going, and caring guy. Despite his power being truly terrifying and the stuff of nightmares, all he wants to do is help his friends and protect them, even at the cost of his own physical harm.

Dr. Malcolm Blackwood - MetaOps Medical Division Dr. Malcolm Blackwood was MetaOps' leading physician and somewhat of an expert on metahuman genetics and biology. This was of course because he himself was a metahuman. When he was first approached by MetaOps it had been to join the initial strike teams they were putting together when MetaOps was first commissioned. It was soon found out that Malcolm lacked a number of skills necessary to function in a unit. The ability to take orders or rely on others chief among them. He requested a transfer to the medical division as he had been studying to be a doctor before being enlisted. Several years later he ascended the ranks to Chief Surgeon. His ability was telekinesis and spatial sense which gave him an advantage when diagnosing patients and performing complex surgeries. Dr. Blackwood watched the at mishmash of a creature enter his infirmary carrying two bodies on his back. Blackwood was not impressed. He knew the creature to be a member of MetaOps newest strike team and perfectly capable of understanding English. "Are you mentally deficient?" He asked looking Chimera up and down. "Even a civilian knows that transporting someone severely injured on..." as this point Malcolm gave a noise of disgust as he looked at Chimera's back, the way it bounced slightly every time he moved. "...such a surface could easily cause even greater harm." Malcolm gave both girl's a once over. One of them was unmistakably dead but being familiar with the files of MetaOps newest recruits Blackwood was aware that she wouldn't stay that way for long. The doctor snapped his fingers. "Someone find her a comfortable bed, repairing an entire skeletal structure must be undecidedly painful. She needs a safe place to wake." Then Blackmore turned to the other one. She had pale skin and gold hair. From her file Malcolm knew her name to be Gloria. She was the one he had to worry about. Two nurses helped Malcolm shift Gloria onto a small flat gurney for transport to one of the operating tables where Gloria could be scanned and properly diagnosed without doing more damage. She was placed face down on the operating table because of the very obvious gashes in her shoulder blades. A scan reveled no skeletal, spinal or brain trauma which was a relief. Most of her wounds appeared to be superficial. Her right arm appeared to have something akin to a burn running from her forearm all the way down the entire length of her arm. The skin was red and angry but completely smooth. Her finger prints on that hand looked to have been destroyed. "Nurse get the burn salve, a lot of it." The next thing to look at was the cuts made to her back. They were nasty, not so much done with a knife as some sort of hook. Her flesh hadn't been cut but torn. She'd lost a significant amount of blood from both wounds, it had dripped down her back, dried and crusted on her uniform. It was amazing that she'd been able to function with damage like this, the girl must have an impressive pain tolerance. Malcolm cut away Gloria's shirt from her back before he went about dealing with the wound. First he disinfected it and cleaned it of dried blood and dead tissue before starting to stitch it. Each wound required six stitches. Past that there was very little Dr. Blackwood could do. Aside from minor bumps, scraps and bruises Gloria was simply exhausted. He started her on an IV drip to ensure that she stayed hydrated and instructed a nurse to inform him the moment she regained consciousness. His work complete Blackwood returned to Chimera who seemed to have a concussion. He brought with him a set of scrubs for the boy to wear having no other clothing in the infirmary. "Retake your human form, I need to take a look at your head." As he did this the doctor began to speak. "You know back when MetaOps was first created I was recruited for the very job you hold now. It wasn't my place in the world as you can probably see but from what I remember you are supposed to have each other's backs. The girl lying unconscious on that table is what we refer to as a Phase-Shifter. She can alter the quantum frequency of her molecules in order to change the impact she has on solid matter. Aside from the gashes in her back most of her injuries can be explained by extreme over extension of her abilities. She literally burned her fingerprints away phasing through something with a charged electric field. Now please enlighten me, how it is that Gloria is over there with the very real possibility that she may never regain consciousness and all you received was a bump on the head?"

Code Name: Specter Real Name: Gloria Lieth Age: 19 Nationality: American Power: Intangibility – Simply put Gloria has the ability to shift the rate at which her molecules vibrate in order to pass through solid matter. The biggest exception to this is electricity, attempting to phase through anything that carries a heavy electric charge will cause her a great amount of pain. If the charge is towards the lower end but still present she may still be able to push through, this kind of stress of her powers will leave behind something akin to a severe friction burn on any exposed skin that went through the process, effects on clothing may vary by circumstance. If Gloria tries to reform inside a solid object her body will attempt to expel the foreign material with varied degrees of success. If it is a small portion of her body inside a comparatively less dense material then the material will warp and shift to accommodate that body part however if it is most of her body inside something like stone then she will experience excruciating pain her molecules fuse with the stone in a permanent and fatal manor. Organic matter carries a discernable electric charge. This means that the same rules apply to Gloria moving through a person as they do moving through electricity. Compared to something like an electric fence the charge that humans or animals carry is relatively low so Gloria could move through someone however it would hurt quite a bit. Reforming inside something with an electric charge would be suicide, Gloria may succeed in reforming but the charge of the matter she is moving through would kill her. However Gloria has discovered that if she moves through something with a low level charge and alternates solid and not very quickly she is able to fry circuitry, such as security systems or computers. Passing through vegetation is not a problem as the charge it carries is almost unnoticeable compared to other living things. The denser a substance is the more difficult for Gloria to move through it. Something like class would be fairly easy but something like lead or osmium would be much more difficult and possibly even dangerous depending on how much of it she is phasing through. Origins: Gloria grew up in New York City. Her home was not exactly a stable one. Both her parents Peter and Rose, worked constantly, her mother was a lawyer and her father a doctor. This meant that both Gloria and her little sister Cassandra lived well but there’s more to life than that. Because of their occupations neither of Gloria’s parents were home consistently and when they were home Gloria was not there favorite person. They saw Gloria as a deviant, unwilling or worse unable to fulfil their vision of what a daughter should be. On the best days they ignored her but on many of the less pleasant ones Gloria and her parents would get into violently loud arguments. Because of this Gloria stayed out quite often when she knew her parents might be home. She spent most of her time at pool halls or twenty four hour coffee shops. It wasn’t really a secret that Cassandra was Peter and Rose’s favorite but Gloria didn’t resent her sister for it. If you met Cassandra you’d know it was hard to resent her for anything. Cassie as Gloria called her was almost as unstable as Gloria’s home life. She had been diagnosed with schizophrenia at a young age, her parents however couldn’t bear to have her institutionalized. Usually her delusions were pretty tame but every now and then she’d have a serious fit. Peter and Rose didn’t see many of these, they were too busy working. To them Cassandra was there perfect daughter, they weren’t capable of seeing how seriously she needed help. Gloria didn’t like spending time at home, it contained very few pleasant memories for her but at times when she knew her parents were working she would stay none the less to keep her little sister calm. When Gloria was out she gave Cassie a cellphone, if anything scared or frightened her, or anything happened that Cassie couldn’t explain she was to call right away. The development of Gloria’s meta-gene when she was fourteen was the beginning of the end. At first her parents didn’t notice but Gloria’s control over her ability was spotty, she’d phase partway through things at the randomest times and soon enough it happened in public. Once a month Gloria, Rose Peter and Cassie all sat down for a family dinner. This family time once a month was hell for Gloria but Cassie five years younger than her sister seemed to love having everyone together, she didn’t see the tension between her parents and her older sister. For this reason when this time rolled around Gloria tried to be as pleasant as she could, to be the person that Peter and Rose wanted despite the fact that it was not who she was. Gloria helped her mother with dinner that night trying so hard to make this special for her sister. When she was taking the plates to the dining room table Gloria tripped on a piece of loose carpet and went careening towards the table plates flying everywhere. Some sort of instinct activated in Gloria then, a primal sense of self protection cause her power to activate that moment. It save her head from smashing into the fine oak but it doomed her in her parent’s eyes. Gloria passed straight through the table top with her entire family there to witness. At the best of time Peter and Rose were not tolerant people but finding out that there child was a mutant was the final straw for them. They removed her from school, couldn’t have that happening in public, what would the neighbors think? Then they forbid her to leave the house. Of course Gloria was happy to stay when both her parents were out if only to keep an eye on her little sister. At that point in her life the only reason that Gloria didn’t run away from home was because Cassie. The little girl need Gloria now more than ever. Cassie had always had an over active imagination which often enough fueled her delusions. Ever since she’d seen what Gloria could do her schizophrenia had incorporated it into her own personal reality. She’d become convinced that she also was a meta-human. That might have been okay if she thought she had telekinesis or pyrokinesis or energy manipulation or telepathy or anything else. Except Cassie didn’t dream up an ability like that. One that couldn’t hurt her. Cassie had started to believe that she could fly. At the beginning it was almost funny, seeing the eleven year old jumping off tables and chairs and laughing when she hit the ground. Two years after Gloria first discovered her powers when she was sixteen things turned dangerous. Gloria came home one day to find Cassandra standing on the railing of the back deck, fifteen feet off the ground. “I’m gonna do it this time sis.” She shouted with a smile on her face, before Gloria could do anything Cassandra leapt from the railing. She broke both of her legs and fractured her collarbone. Gloria called 911, when Peter and Rose got home they wouldn’t believe that there dear sweet innocent Cassie had actually jumped off a fifteen foot deck. The real answer seemed obvious, Gloria had pushed her sister off the deck out of jealously. No matter how many times Gloria told them what happened they refused to believe it. It was only Cassandra’s insistence that Gloria had gotten home after the fall that kept her from ending up in Juvi. Three months later after Cassie’s bones had healed Gloria’s relationship with her parents had deteriorated further, to the point where Gloria couldn’t be in the same room with them without an argument starting. That fateful night Gloria stormed out of the house not wanted to be there when Peter and Rose returned. She went down to the pool halls were she wasn’t too bad at hustle guys out of there cash. That night Gloria got a phone call in that special phone she’d reserved for her sister. She picked up with haste leaving a game mid play and forfeiting her bet. “Cassie what’s wrong?” “There’s something in the attic with me sis. I’m scared, but one of the windows in the attic is open. I’m gonna fly away from it. I’m going to be alright.” Gloria’s heart nearly stopped, she began to run for home as fast as her legs would carry her as she tried to talk her sister down. “Cassie don’t do this. Whatever’s in the attic with you isn’t scary enough to waste your powers on it, your powers are special. They should be used for special things.” Gloria had learned that directly opposing Cassie’s delusions was a mistake. Her little sister would get irritable and angry and Gloria couldn’t calm her down. “Its big sis, it’s got horns.” “Cassie I’m almost at the house, don’t do anything till I get there.” “It’s coming for my Glory. I have to fly. I have too.” Gloria rounded the corner to the street her house was on. She shoved open the gate with enough force to smash it into the fence beside. Gloria ran up the walk just in time to hear her sister’s scream and see her body hit the ground. In shock Gloria gathered her little sister in her arms, she wasn’t even twelve yet and she seemed so small all broken. She tried to smile and Gloria could see blood coating her teeth. “It didn’t get me sis, I flew. Did you see?” Gloria smiled tears streaming down her eyes. “I saw, my little angel, you flew. It was beautiful.” The smile on Cassandra’s face was so innocent it broke Gloria’s heart. “I… I have to go somewhere else now don’t I?” Gloria couldn’t answer. How did you respond to a dying girls last words? Cassie reached up a hand and touched Gloria’s chest right below her collarbone. “Don’t worry sis, I’ll always be there for you. Right there.” She said pocking Gloria’s chest, smearing blood on her tank top. That was how Peter and Rose found the two of them three house later. Cassandra’s broken body being cradled by a despondent Gloria who was still crying and holding Cassie in her arms. “My god Gloria, what did you do?” said Peter looking on the scene with horror. This snapped Gloria out of whatever state she’d been existing in before. Her pain and anguish quickly turning to anger. “You can’t possibly think… I’m your daughter, her sister. I would never… but then what do you know about me? What do you know about either of us? Maybe if you’d bothered to come home every once in a while you might have been able to stop her from jumping.” “Jumping?” said Rose in shock. “You can’t possibly think we’d believe this was self-inflicted? Our daughter would never commit suicide.” “Mom! You’re daughter was schizophrenic, she needed help. Help you weren’t willing to admit might be necessary. Her blood in on your hands.” Peter’s eyes narrowed. “No actually I think it’s on your hands.” he said gesturing down Gloria’s hands which were indeed stained wither her sisters blood. “Rose call the police.” Gloria watched in horror as her mother pulled out a cellphone. “Police, I’d like to report a murder. My daughter is dead, yes I know who did it. She’s still here. Get here as quick as possible I don’t think we can hold her for long.” Gloria looked between her parents and realized two very important things, they’d never really loved her, and they were determined to see her jailed for Cassandra’s death. Gloria started to run. “No you don’t.” shouted Peter moving to intercept. Gloria didn’t stop she just kept running and as she approached her father her both moved through his. Pain crackled through her limbs that Gloria didn’t fully understand but shock, horror, and grief dulled its edge so that she barely felt it. Gloria didn’t stop running till she was ten blocks from her house. She used the little money she had on her to buy new, clean clothing and she wiped the blood from her skin. This began Gloria’s life on the streets. It took six months before the police gave up on finding her. Of course officially her file was still open and she was still wanted but after that amount of time no one expected her to be found. She stayed in New York, using her gift to steal what she needed. A neat trick she discovered was that if she made her stomach intangible she could store shoplifted items in it for several minutes before she started to feel like she was choking. Gloria did what she had to, to survive. Six months ago her jobs finally caught up with her. She was hired by a local fence to steal a diamond ring from a safety deposit body. It was a trap set by MetaOps. They’d gotten winds of her exploits, the vault were the diamond was held had been retrofitted with an electrically charged grid in all of the walls, floor and ceiling which was activated once she was inside. After that they used insulated cuffs that were wired to transport her to a holding facility. Her choices were simple, join the MetaOps project or spent the next two to five years in jail for the various crimes she’d committed to get by. Personality: Gloria has a prominent wild streak to her and enjoyed partying, drinking, and having sex. Often enough she’ll use a guy and dump him without forming any sort of emotional ties. She can also be careless and irresponsible, Gloria treats serious matters more lightly than she probably should. She is generally carefree and laid-back, causing her to view people who take matters serious as being wound too tight. Gloria doesn’t really want to be in any sort of leadership position on the team because of a deep seated fear that her mistakes could cost them a lot just like with her sister. She explains this reluctance to take command of a situation by nonchalantly saying it’s too much of a hassle. When she wants to be Gloria can be both forceful and persuasive, she could be a decent leader given the chance. Gloria frequently proved herself to be impulsive. She is known for her quick, easily irritated nature, something her father described as the "Lieth temper". Gloria has deep issues with parental figures, due to being raised by neglectful, absent parents while she was young. Nonetheless, she has a deep yearning for a family. She has many trust issues, always fearing that she will be betrayed or hurt if she lets someone in. Often enough she is incapable of understanding why someone would show kindness with nothing to gain for themselves. She is always suspicious of people who take an interest in her. Gloria shows hostility to those she doesn't trust or doesn't know but on the one hand, she would display extreme loyalty to those who were close to her and cared for her, yet that hasn’t happened since her sister died. Appearance:

As Crosscut and the others appeared, Michelle came to the conclusion that their mission was complete, albeit not without losses of their own. One dead and several injured. One might think that it wasn't that big of a loss, but still... someone died. Death was, and still is, never a fun thing to comprehend. As she followed Crosscut out of the facility, she glared at the civilians as well. Not because she was mad at them like Crosscut was, but because she was mad at herself. She did next to nothing in the fight, and that didn't deserve cheers or applauses. All she could do was watch as her teammates did most of the work and took the hits. It was all Michelle could do to maintain discipline and not shout at them to go away and shut the f*ck up. Returning back to base, Michelle walked away after being dismissed. She took a moment to think about where to go, then decided to head to the gym. Her first instinct had been to go to the shooting range, but there was no need for that. Her aim was still as good as ever. That she was definitely sure of. Entering the gym, Michelle found a punching bag as well as a pair of gloves. Without a second thought, she put the gloves on and started punching, hammering away at it, venting her stress on it.

Code Name: Widowmaker Real Name: Michelle Kine Age: 27 Gender: Female Nationality: American Powers: None. She is a normal human through and through. Instead, she has these talents: -Sharpshooter: Michelle is a master with virtually any firearm one could come up with. Pistols, sniper rifles, grenade launchers, you name it, she can use it. -Battle instincts: honed through a lifetime of fighting both normals and super humans, Michelle both reacts and recovers more quickly than most. -Fist fighting: Just because she uses firearms so much doesn't mean she doesn't know how to fight without one. Origins/History: Michelle grew up in a rough neighborhood. Gangs controlled the streets, and not even the police did anything about them; in fact, some were even bribed to keep their noses out of the conflict. As a result, little Michelle had to learn how to fend for herself. It certainly wasn't easy, especially since she was a girl. In time, though, she earned a reputation among the gangs so they knew not to bother her. Of course, things took a turn for the worse when she encountered a gang leader who was a super human. She fought hard, but she ultimately could not contend. Before she faced complete defeat, however, she was fortunate enough to have another super human interfere in the fight and save her. Michelle was too proud at first to express her thanks, but they eventually became good friends. When they grew up, they enlisted in the military. The two went through tough times, both in the field and at home, but they were inseparable. At least, until one day, when two were caught by surprise and Michelle's friend died in the firefight by another super human. Michelle had quickly killed the one who had done the deed, but it did little to ease the pain of the loss. Shortly after, Michelle was approached with the offer to join MetaOps, which Michelle accepted. Personality: Michelle has a hard look in her eyes, as if she had seen terrible things. She's also not the most chatty person either. However, the look can soften, and a kinder personality will show. In a fight, there's no one else you would have to stay by your side, and will stay by you if your death slowly approaches.

Drake understood little of what the doctor was even saying to him, not entirely sure at all whether it was due to the concussion on his head or simply the shock of everything that had happened. When the doctor asked him such a question however, he felt a small rage beginning to boil inside of him. "How did I only receive a bump on the head?" The boy growled angrily as he pushed the mans hand away from observing his head. "Maybe because I was a two ton animal who threw himself in harms way so that they wouldn't receive a beating. Maybe it was because I took the blows which would have killed any one of them in a second so that they could actually figure out a way to stop that damn maniac! And just because I happened to be a creature which can take that sort of beating and only receive a bump on the head doesn't mean I didn't do what I could to help them!" Drake paused his rant as he looked away, closing his eyes. Every time he closed them he saw an image of Witch... Just sitting there, her head twisted at a grotesque angle and staring at the wall with lifeless eyes... Yes he had done his best to take the punches for the team, and yet Gloria still might die. Izzy most certainly did die, and Witch was never coming back. Maybe he hadn't done everything he could of.. "Sorry doc. I think this concussion is getting the better of me. Best if I don't... Best if I don't talk right now." Drake slowly looked at the ground, unwilling to look up after that, trying to make sense of the shame he was now feeling. He had tried to save them... Hadn't he?

Code Name: Chimera Real Name: Drake Marble Age: 18 Gender: Male Race: He's an all-American mutt, with Indian, Native American, Irish, German, Mexican, and pretty much anything else you could think of, but he comes from America. Powers: Drake is a shapeshifter, but strangely enough he can't use his powers correctly. Instead of simply being able to turn into something or someone at will, for some reason he simply can't do it. Instead, he must observe an animal or person he wants to turn into for almost hours at a time in order to perform the shift, so instead of simply trying to master several forms he's only mastered one, something which he calls the "Chimera". The Chimera is a massive beast almost the size of an elephant, and is a mix of the most deadly creatures in the world. It has the head and claws of a wolf, wings of a giant bat, the tail of a lemur, the horns of a rhinoceros, and a scorpions barb on the end of its tail. Drake is always trying to find room for improvement on this form, always researching animals to make it more effective in battle. As the Chimera he has incredible strength and speed, as well as the ability to hear and smell things from miles away. His wings allow him to fly for large distances, and even carry others with him at times. Origins/History: Drake came from a very normal, ordinary family with only one exception: his parents were both 'gifted'. His father was a shapeshifter, his mother had the ability to neutralize or negate most powers through genetic telekinesis. They assumed, given his mothers powers, that Drake would be a normal boy with no need to worry about things such as powers... They were greatly mistaken. Instead, what they got was a boy who's powers were absolutely out of control from a young age. He was completely unable to control his shifting, turning into the randomest animals at the most unpredictable times. So, Drakes mother used her powers in an attempt to permanently negate her sons abilities, and this did work... To an extent. Now Drake has to struggle in order to shift into something, sometimes to the point where it hurts, and his out of control powers did have a lasting effect on him. To this day his ears are permanently trapped in the form of a wolf, causing him to be highly sensitive to sound at times, as well as his hands always having the retractable claws of a cat. However he reuses to simply let his gift go to waste. Instead, ignoring his parents warnings, he set off to go use his strange power to help people, and to protect them... So far it hasn't been working that well for him however. He joined the MetaOps after another failed attempt to help someone, this time a woman being mugged. He had saved her of course, but at the very sight of the terrifying creature she had screamed and ran. This , a lot with several other incidents, caused the government to become involved and to attempt to detain him. However, they found the boy was extremely reasonable and willing to go without question. Soon enough, he was recruited to join the team with the promise hat he could use his powers to do the most good. Personality: Drake is a fun , easy going, and caring guy. Despite his power being truly terrifying and the stuff of nightmares, all he wants to do is help his friends and protect them, even at the cost of his own physical harm.

The entirety of the MetaOps' strike team, minus Pirate Queen who had gone AWOL at some point during the fight with The Immortal, was gathered in the briefing room, ready to hear the details of their next mission. The Director stood at the front, with an image of a woman being projected on the wall behind him. "Good morning team," he said. "This is today's target." The Director then handed out several files, each giving information on the woman. "As you can see from her file, she's a very nasty customer. We've tracked her whereabouts to a large hotel in Chicago, Illinois," he said as the image changed to the building he was referring to, with pictures of the lobby different rooms next to it. "Unfortunately, we lost contact with the recon team following her and don't know anymore than which building she's in. Considering that's one hundred floors to cover on your own, that's a lot of ground to cover. I hope you're all up for it. Crosscut will be transporting one team; led by him and consisting of Hopper, Freyja, Chimera, Bright Angel, and new addition Astral; to the lobby where you will go bottom-to-top searching for the target. Stratos will be air dropping the second team; led by Revel and consisting of Specter, Widowmaker, MicWiz, and Elementalist; on the roof where you will be searching top-to-bottom. Remember, we need her alive. Happy hunting team."

Code Name: Witch Real Name: Samantha Choi Age: 24 Gender: Female Nationality: Korean-American Powers: Witch has telekinesis, similar to having an extra pair of long, strong, invisible arms. Limited to a range of twenty meters, the strength of her telekinesis is directly related to Witch’s physical strength and fatigue. The more in shape she is, the more weight she can carry. However, her telekinesis does not simply extend her reach; the weight she can carry through telekinesis versus how much she can normally carry is multiplied by a factor of ten. If Witch can lift up a one hundred pound object with her hands, she can lift a one thousand pound object through telekinesis. Other notes about her “arms”: Witch must be able to see what she is trying to carry. Her telekinesis can also be used to lift herself up, giving the impression she can fly or float. Finally, her “arms” are not only good for carrying things, but also smashing or tearing things. Again, they are like invisible arms, so anything a normal person could do with their arms, she can do with her extra ones. Origins/History: Samantha had a fairly privileged life prior to joining MetaOps. She attended college for a major in physics, but Sam still found enough free time to party almost every weekend (except for during midterms and finals. Nobody parties during midterms and finals). She didn’t get into any trouble during college, however, and graduated at 22 with a stellar GPA. After graduation, however, things got a little difficult. Sam had trouble finding a job, so she got on the next flight to Korean and stayed at her grandparents’ house in Seoul. It was in Seoul that Sam realized that she could pick things up from a distance, something she swore she couldn’t do beforehand. She began toying with her newfound power in the safety of her own home, slowly getting accustomed to using her extra arms. Sam began to piece together the details of her power; their effective distance, their strength, and how they related to her strength. It didn’t take long for her grandparents to find out she had telekinesis. After long deliberation, they ultimately decided to turn Sam in to the authorities. Sam refused, running from her grandparents’ home out of fear. However, Sam’s inherent recklessness kept getting her into trouble. She would abuse her power to try to steal from stores in order to survive on the streets of Seoul. For several months, Sam got along nicely in Seoul. However, her luck eventually ran out, and a shopkeeper noticed that he was being robbed. Sam managed to escape, but the security footage didn’t lie. The shopkeeper alerted the government right away. As soon as the guns started to be waved at Sam, she surrendered. She was held in isolation for several days while the Korean officials decided what to do with her. Ultimately, she was handed over to the US government and given to MetaOps. For her first year at MetaOps, much of her time was devoted to strengthening her powers and learning their limits, as well as extensive training in hand-to-hand combat. Sam found that she was a quick learner in hand-to-hand and quickly excelled. She’s no expert, but she’s pretty damn good at it. After that first year, Witch was deemed ready to go out into the field, and has since spent a year operating for MetaOps. Personality: Sam’s primary trait is that she is absolutely curious about everything. If she doesn’t know something to a satisfactory degree, Sam will question anyone she can until she does. However, her curiosity comes with a downside. Her inquisitive nature often leads to strong cynicism, so she finds herself questioning people’s motives more often than she’d like to admit to. Not to say that Sam is an absolute cynic. She still considers herself fortunate that MetaOps picked her up from the Korean government and that she doesn’t have to spend the rest of her life in a prison or lab somewhere, and Sam keeps that in mind at all times. She has utmost respect for authority within MetaOps and has fierce loyalty to the division. For the most part, Sam thinks in a procedural, rational manner, but it doesn’t take much for her to lose her cool. She’s young, she’s reckless, and MetaOps often finds itself having to clean up after her or reprimand her actions or rein her in. Appearance: Sam is small and unseeming, standing at only 5’4, but the nature of her power requires her to stay in excellent physical condition. She’s short, but she’s tough, and has a strong, muscular body to make up for her size. As for her other features, Sam has bleached and dyed her naturally black hair into a beach blonde color, wearing it in a medium-length ponytail. She wears thick frame glasses over her dark brown eyes which she replaces with contacts when she is sent on a mission. Speaking of which, her mission attire is a completely black, full-body jumpsuit, with pockets scattered over her legs in various sizes to carry a multitude of things. In addition to this, Sam wears military-grade combat boots and gloves and is more often than not found wearing a different kind of hat on her head. thank you for this image! Sam in her suit (minus the goggles) (the idea for Sam’s power was most definitely inspired by both Chronicle and Elfen Lied. in fact, I might as well have taken a carbon copy from both of them and placed it here, so you could most definitely refer to those if you want a clearer picture of Sam’s power!)

Revel Though the battle at the nuclear plant that ended only with the Immortal's life now formed but a memory, Revel cherished and utilized it as if it were an ageless treasure still in the palm of his hand. When the ordeal began, his ego had faltered for but a moment when faced with the doubt of others and the remarkably short timeframe of his precognition, but no mockery or skepticism could remain now that his plan had won the day. Much had hinged upon the outcome of that skirmish, though the pressure had been kept from building inside the string-puller by his persistence in not acknowledging it. Never a tactician afraid of taking the field, Revel nevertheless preferred to engage himself only when victory stood assured; against a man capable of razing all semblances of civilization in a radius of miles and tainting the land for generations to come, the diminished feeling of control proved morbidly humanizing. Nothing mattered more to Revel than his own life, for dead men do not create legacies. Through his prediction Revel sought to eternally push the odds of the world into favor, but knowing the future was like looking upward into the rain. Even if a droplet could be discerned, its size and shape and how it was going to act, it was all too easy for it to slip right by. In this scenario, fortunately, all had fallen right into his fingers. Now, for being able to claim credit for the operation's success, he was perceived by some others as a leadership figure—as he should be. If Crosscut was the team's captain, then Revel served as lieutenant and strategist. The only bit of rain on his parade was that Spectre had been saved too. His original plan, should anyone have asked, had been to have her jump toward him to be caught and carried as he climbed. It wasn't hard to envision a future in which he, nerves shot and already tired by his adherence to the reactor pit's wall, accidentally and tragically let the woman slip through his fingers. Still, despite the encounter both lucrative and sobering, all was well. Revel found himself in the briefing room once more, stolid with arms crossed and goggles dangling around his neck. When a file came his way, Revel took it without ceremony, and perused the pages. In particular, the woman's appearance, powers, and personality seized his attention. Predatory, insane, and with deadly powers. The classic femme fatale. Wonderful....I do so love the type! Having the goon squad kill her would be such a mistake. Perhaps I could rope her... he thought, mind drifting to a special vial on his belt beneath his coat. Into an unwilling alliance. If not, I shall enjoy shattering her illusions of confidence and power, provided I can get her on my own. Plus, as he'd guessed, he'd been assigned a leadership position, though like all things in life it came with a catch, namely Spectre.

Code Name: Revel Real Name: Mòric Syg Age: 29 Gender: Male Nationality: Hungarian Powers: The only superpower Revel has is a limited form of precognition. Though he can't see the future, technically, Revel simply knows it. Knowledge from the future simply manifests in his brain, like a hidden memory suddenly provoked. Revel is able to identify that said information is from the future, as well as from how far forward it came. The longest he's ever been able to know something before its occurrence is two hours. After developing this power for a while, Revel realized that this knowledge comes from futures that can be, not futures that are, and grew to be able to figure out the consequences of certain actions before performing them. Revel wields two bracers that each contain lengths of cord. In response to certain nerve impulses, the cords can be extended, retracted, or electrified. This is not a power; merely a weapon. Origins/History: Though he was born in Hungary, Mòric's parents had no intention of keeping him there. The road to the United States was a hard one, but in the end the little family departed for the new world. They had heard tales of a land of opportunity, where even the poorest men could become legendary through the strength of their will and the work of their hands, but after arriving they found another side to the story altogether. Nowadays Revel remembers little, particularly the circumstances leading up to the defining event of his youth, but he keenly recalls the stinging abandonment. Though Revel inwardly suspects they couldn't take properly take care of him or provide for him, an acknowledged possibility is that they simply didn't want him after all. Luck smiled upon the fair-haired dark child, however, and a traveling carnival of dubious repute took him in. A childhood spent among such a wacky assembly greatly influenced his character; Revel learned hierarchy, trickery, theatricality, deception, and how to manipulate. As a teenager he served as the ringmaster, the youngest to date, introducing and playing a part with incredible feats to keep the crowd enthralled and its money in hand. In his spare time, he attended several schools as the circus traveled, getting expelled from one after another but never giving up his quest for knowledge. Revel's own psyche, already decidedly misaligned, continued down its skewed path. His ambitions and intellect reached far, far beyond entertainment. It was during this time that he realized he had supernatural ability to see a short way into the future, and without either questioning or hesitation he accepted his gift and put it to use. Years later, a new boss took over the carnival, despite the rumors of abductions and experimentation. Willow, daughter of a recent immigrant to the United States from Vietnam and a self-made woman, was determined to set the despicable community to rights. Slowly, her enlightening, positive influence and vast intelligence permeated every carny of the lot save one: Revel. After weeks in seclusion, avoiding his boss while devouring company funds at an incredible rate, he emerged from his mobile laboratory bedecked in strange clothes and wielding sinister technology. He approached Willow at her desk and let loose a swarm of nanites upon her. The microscopic swarm of robots integrated themselves with the woman from head to toe, placing her squarely under Revel's influence. Revel's first triumph catalyzed a wave of terror as the entire carnival collapsed, all resources heading straight to the String Puller as he weaseled his way into infamy. Shortly thereafter Revel disappeared, and began in secret a cult using his precognitive abilities to gain followers. Guessing that he wasn't the only superpowered person in the world, Revel set about making armaments for himself and his followers, and endeavored to learn more about others like him. When Revel caught wind through an associate named Quaily that the MetaOps project and been formed and was combing the country for suitable recruits. With this in mind, Revel severed ties from his cult, making sure his past was well hidden, left his second-in-command in charge, and allowed himself to be captured by MetaOps operatives during a feigned robbery. When offered a chance for redemption by project administrators, he grudgingly conceded. Personality: Revel is slimy and secretive, with little to no morality limiting his ambitions and the meeting of his goals. He is outwardly charming but inwardly misogynistic and narcissistic. In fact he is incredibly sexist, enjoying having control over females in any aspect from their fear to their form. His ultimate passion is to control and contort, and he has a curiosity that has led him to experiment. The fact that he has created a cult with him as the head is a testament to his manipulative ability and charisma. Revel is the ultimate ringleader, the shadow and the plot behind the front lines, the cult leader playing chess with people. A knack for adapting to the situation at hand and learning from his failures make him particularly dangerous. In everyday circumstances, he is very capable of feigning ordinary emotion, and hides his...eccentricities. One thing he greatly enjoys is to guess what other people are going to say before they do so, and then be right. Appearance: Revel wears the same gear he wore during his feigned robbery, reasoning that it will 'remind of the past self he's trying to redeem'. He is slightly farsighted and speaks with a hint of a Hungarian accent.

Gloria - Specter

Code Name: Specter Real Name: Gloria Lieth Age: 19 Nationality: American Power: Intangibility – Simply put Gloria has the ability to shift the rate at which her molecules vibrate in order to pass through solid matter. The biggest exception to this is electricity, attempting to phase through anything that carries a heavy electric charge will cause her a great amount of pain. If the charge is towards the lower end but still present she may still be able to push through, this kind of stress of her powers will leave behind something akin to a severe friction burn on any exposed skin that went through the process, effects on clothing may vary by circumstance. If Gloria tries to reform inside a solid object her body will attempt to expel the foreign material with varied degrees of success. If it is a small portion of her body inside a comparatively less dense material then the material will warp and shift to accommodate that body part however if it is most of her body inside something like stone then she will experience excruciating pain her molecules fuse with the stone in a permanent and fatal manor. Organic matter carries a discernable electric charge. This means that the same rules apply to Gloria moving through a person as they do moving through electricity. Compared to something like an electric fence the charge that humans or animals carry is relatively low so Gloria could move through someone however it would hurt quite a bit. Reforming inside something with an electric charge would be suicide, Gloria may succeed in reforming but the charge of the matter she is moving through would kill her. However Gloria has discovered that if she moves through something with a low level charge and alternates solid and not very quickly she is able to fry circuitry, such as security systems or computers. Passing through vegetation is not a problem as the charge it carries is almost unnoticeable compared to other living things. The denser a substance is the more difficult for Gloria to move through it. Something like class would be fairly easy but something like lead or osmium would be much more difficult and possibly even dangerous depending on how much of it she is phasing through. Origins: Gloria grew up in New York City. Her home was not exactly a stable one. Both her parents Peter and Rose, worked constantly, her mother was a lawyer and her father a doctor. This meant that both Gloria and her little sister Cassandra lived well but there’s more to life than that. Because of their occupations neither of Gloria’s parents were home consistently and when they were home Gloria was not there favorite person. They saw Gloria as a deviant, unwilling or worse unable to fulfil their vision of what a daughter should be. On the best days they ignored her but on many of the less pleasant ones Gloria and her parents would get into violently loud arguments. Because of this Gloria stayed out quite often when she knew her parents might be home. She spent most of her time at pool halls or twenty four hour coffee shops. It wasn’t really a secret that Cassandra was Peter and Rose’s favorite but Gloria didn’t resent her sister for it. If you met Cassandra you’d know it was hard to resent her for anything. Cassie as Gloria called her was almost as unstable as Gloria’s home life. She had been diagnosed with schizophrenia at a young age, her parents however couldn’t bear to have her institutionalized. Usually her delusions were pretty tame but every now and then she’d have a serious fit. Peter and Rose didn’t see many of these, they were too busy working. To them Cassandra was there perfect daughter, they weren’t capable of seeing how seriously she needed help. Gloria didn’t like spending time at home, it contained very few pleasant memories for her but at times when she knew her parents were working she would stay none the less to keep her little sister calm. When Gloria was out she gave Cassie a cellphone, if anything scared or frightened her, or anything happened that Cassie couldn’t explain she was to call right away. The development of Gloria’s meta-gene when she was fourteen was the beginning of the end. At first her parents didn’t notice but Gloria’s control over her ability was spotty, she’d phase partway through things at the randomest times and soon enough it happened in public. Once a month Gloria, Rose Peter and Cassie all sat down for a family dinner. This family time once a month was hell for Gloria but Cassie five years younger than her sister seemed to love having everyone together, she didn’t see the tension between her parents and her older sister. For this reason when this time rolled around Gloria tried to be as pleasant as she could, to be the person that Peter and Rose wanted despite the fact that it was not who she was. Gloria helped her mother with dinner that night trying so hard to make this special for her sister. When she was taking the plates to the dining room table Gloria tripped on a piece of loose carpet and went careening towards the table plates flying everywhere. Some sort of instinct activated in Gloria then, a primal sense of self protection cause her power to activate that moment. It save her head from smashing into the fine oak but it doomed her in her parent’s eyes. Gloria passed straight through the table top with her entire family there to witness. At the best of time Peter and Rose were not tolerant people but finding out that there child was a mutant was the final straw for them. They removed her from school, couldn’t have that happening in public, what would the neighbors think? Then they forbid her to leave the house. Of course Gloria was happy to stay when both her parents were out if only to keep an eye on her little sister. At that point in her life the only reason that Gloria didn’t run away from home was because Cassie. The little girl need Gloria now more than ever. Cassie had always had an over active imagination which often enough fueled her delusions. Ever since she’d seen what Gloria could do her schizophrenia had incorporated it into her own personal reality. She’d become convinced that she also was a meta-human. That might have been okay if she thought she had telekinesis or pyrokinesis or energy manipulation or telepathy or anything else. Except Cassie didn’t dream up an ability like that. One that couldn’t hurt her. Cassie had started to believe that she could fly. At the beginning it was almost funny, seeing the eleven year old jumping off tables and chairs and laughing when she hit the ground. Two years after Gloria first discovered her powers when she was sixteen things turned dangerous. Gloria came home one day to find Cassandra standing on the railing of the back deck, fifteen feet off the ground. “I’m gonna do it this time sis.” She shouted with a smile on her face, before Gloria could do anything Cassandra leapt from the railing. She broke both of her legs and fractured her collarbone. Gloria called 911, when Peter and Rose got home they wouldn’t believe that there dear sweet innocent Cassie had actually jumped off a fifteen foot deck. The real answer seemed obvious, Gloria had pushed her sister off the deck out of jealously. No matter how many times Gloria told them what happened they refused to believe it. It was only Cassandra’s insistence that Gloria had gotten home after the fall that kept her from ending up in Juvi. Three months later after Cassie’s bones had healed Gloria’s relationship with her parents had deteriorated further, to the point where Gloria couldn’t be in the same room with them without an argument starting. That fateful night Gloria stormed out of the house not wanted to be there when Peter and Rose returned. She went down to the pool halls were she wasn’t too bad at hustle guys out of there cash. That night Gloria got a phone call in that special phone she’d reserved for her sister. She picked up with haste leaving a game mid play and forfeiting her bet. “Cassie what’s wrong?” “There’s something in the attic with me sis. I’m scared, but one of the windows in the attic is open. I’m gonna fly away from it. I’m going to be alright.” Gloria’s heart nearly stopped, she began to run for home as fast as her legs would carry her as she tried to talk her sister down. “Cassie don’t do this. Whatever’s in the attic with you isn’t scary enough to waste your powers on it, your powers are special. They should be used for special things.” Gloria had learned that directly opposing Cassie’s delusions was a mistake. Her little sister would get irritable and angry and Gloria couldn’t calm her down. “Its big sis, it’s got horns.” “Cassie I’m almost at the house, don’t do anything till I get there.” “It’s coming for my Glory. I have to fly. I have too.” Gloria rounded the corner to the street her house was on. She shoved open the gate with enough force to smash it into the fence beside. Gloria ran up the walk just in time to hear her sister’s scream and see her body hit the ground. In shock Gloria gathered her little sister in her arms, she wasn’t even twelve yet and she seemed so small all broken. She tried to smile and Gloria could see blood coating her teeth. “It didn’t get me sis, I flew. Did you see?” Gloria smiled tears streaming down her eyes. “I saw, my little angel, you flew. It was beautiful.” The smile on Cassandra’s face was so innocent it broke Gloria’s heart. “I… I have to go somewhere else now don’t I?” Gloria couldn’t answer. How did you respond to a dying girls last words? Cassie reached up a hand and touched Gloria’s chest right below her collarbone. “Don’t worry sis, I’ll always be there for you. Right there.” She said pocking Gloria’s chest, smearing blood on her tank top. That was how Peter and Rose found the two of them three house later. Cassandra’s broken body being cradled by a despondent Gloria who was still crying and holding Cassie in her arms. “My god Gloria, what did you do?” said Peter looking on the scene with horror. This snapped Gloria out of whatever state she’d been existing in before. Her pain and anguish quickly turning to anger. “You can’t possibly think… I’m your daughter, her sister. I would never… but then what do you know about me? What do you know about either of us? Maybe if you’d bothered to come home every once in a while you might have been able to stop her from jumping.” “Jumping?” said Rose in shock. “You can’t possibly think we’d believe this was self-inflicted? Our daughter would never commit suicide.” “Mom! You’re daughter was schizophrenic, she needed help. Help you weren’t willing to admit might be necessary. Her blood in on your hands.” Peter’s eyes narrowed. “No actually I think it’s on your hands.” he said gesturing down Gloria’s hands which were indeed stained wither her sisters blood. “Rose call the police.” Gloria watched in horror as her mother pulled out a cellphone. “Police, I’d like to report a murder. My daughter is dead, yes I know who did it. She’s still here. Get here as quick as possible I don’t think we can hold her for long.” Gloria looked between her parents and realized two very important things, they’d never really loved her, and they were determined to see her jailed for Cassandra’s death. Gloria started to run. “No you don’t.” shouted Peter moving to intercept. Gloria didn’t stop she just kept running and as she approached her father her both moved through his. Pain crackled through her limbs that Gloria didn’t fully understand but shock, horror, and grief dulled its edge so that she barely felt it. Gloria didn’t stop running till she was ten blocks from her house. She used the little money she had on her to buy new, clean clothing and she wiped the blood from her skin. This began Gloria’s life on the streets. It took six months before the police gave up on finding her. Of course officially her file was still open and she was still wanted but after that amount of time no one expected her to be found. She stayed in New York, using her gift to steal what she needed. A neat trick she discovered was that if she made her stomach intangible she could store shoplifted items in it for several minutes before she started to feel like she was choking. Gloria did what she had to, to survive. Six months ago her jobs finally caught up with her. She was hired by a local fence to steal a diamond ring from a safety deposit body. It was a trap set by MetaOps. They’d gotten winds of her exploits, the vault were the diamond was held had been retrofitted with an electrically charged grid in all of the walls, floor and ceiling which was activated once she was inside. After that they used insulated cuffs that were wired to transport her to a holding facility. Her choices were simple, join the MetaOps project or spent the next two to five years in jail for the various crimes she’d committed to get by. Personality: Gloria has a prominent wild streak to her and enjoyed partying, drinking, and having sex. Often enough she’ll use a guy and dump him without forming any sort of emotional ties. She can also be careless and irresponsible, Gloria treats serious matters more lightly than she probably should. She is generally carefree and laid-back, causing her to view people who take matters serious as being wound too tight. Gloria doesn’t really want to be in any sort of leadership position on the team because of a deep seated fear that her mistakes could cost them a lot just like with her sister. She explains this reluctance to take command of a situation by nonchalantly saying it’s too much of a hassle. When she wants to be Gloria can be both forceful and persuasive, she could be a decent leader given the chance. Gloria frequently proved herself to be impulsive. She is known for her quick, easily irritated nature, something her father described as the "Lieth temper". Gloria has deep issues with parental figures, due to being raised by neglectful, absent parents while she was young. Nonetheless, she has a deep yearning for a family. She has many trust issues, always fearing that she will be betrayed or hurt if she lets someone in. Often enough she is incapable of understanding why someone would show kindness with nothing to gain for themselves. She is always suspicious of people who take an interest in her. Gloria shows hostility to those she doesn't trust or doesn't know but on the one hand, she would display extreme loyalty to those who were close to her and cared for her, yet that hasn’t happened since her sister died. Appearance:

Ryza. Ryza wake up. the driver said as he shook the sleeping girl with his free hand. Ryza groaned, shifted and stayed asleep in the passenger seat. The driver clenched his teeth, "Never seen somebody sleep so deeply in a car seat..." he muttered and started shaking her again, "Hey. Ryza. Open your damn eyes." Ryza took in a deep breath and exhaled, still sleeping. he driver shook his head and then got an idea. He quickly started to swerve on the road, "Oh my god! Shit! Look out!" Ryza woke up instantly, gripping the door handle tightly. Her eyes were wide open, "Holy fuck what?!" Ryza darted her gaze all around and when she discerned that he did that to just wake her, she grimaced. "You could've just woke me normally, Lucas..." Lucas rolled his eyes, "Don't even get me started..." the van left the tunnel they were driving in and the moonlight bathed the black vehicle. The moment they got into direct moonlight, Ryza's eyes began to glow a low blue. There was a road sign, Chicago - 10 miles. Some other vehicles were driving along the interstate to and from the city. Orange street lights periodically passed, filling the vehicle and drowning out the glow of Ryza's eyes. Lucas side glanced over to the girl, not saying a word as he looked at the gems inlaid in Ryza's hands. A minute after he had successfully roused Ryza from her slumber, he finally spoke again, "Your team is headed to Chicago now, figured I'd let you know." Ryza groaned again and tried to go back to sleep, "You could have told me that after I woke up on my own time..." she closed her eyes. "There's one more thing. We're not going straight to them. I got a call while you were sleeping, there's some criminal activity that the local authorities are having trouble thwarting. The brass wants to see what you can do first hand." Lucas turned the van onto an off ramp to head onto another freeway. "We're a military organization aren't we? And we're doing police work... Sorry but I don't think the blues not being able to do their jobs requires me to intervene." Ryza yawned. "We think the criminals are linked to your teams next target. It's relevant." Lucas said, nudging her to keep her awake, "Get suited up." Ryza opened her eyes again, looking at the street lines as they passed. She sat there for a short while before climbing into the back of the van, there were crates and lockers with combat gear in the back. Ryza looked at it all and clicked her tongue, mumbling something in Japanese. She started opening some of the boxes and looking at all the different doodads. Lucas looked in his rear view, "You look confused." "No shit I'm confused, Mr. G-Man. I'm no soldier, all this crap in front of me is just a bunch of straps and clips." Ryza said as she pulled out a bulletproof vest, flipping it around to find its proper orientation. She caught onto what it was and set it aside, needing to get the combats underneath on first. "They might be an awkward fit. This gear is meant for... Bigger guys. Just try to make do." Lucas kept his eyes on the road as the noises of Ryza changing filled the silence. A couple grunts and gasps could be heard as she clearly had no clue what she was doing with the gear. __________ Twenty minutes later, Ryza finally spoke, "I'm gonna need a pretty comprehensive lesson on this shit when get to base." she looked down at herself, she was a couple sizes too small and it showed. Her gear was mostly put on improperly but it was on enough that it did its job. "You're gonna need a weapon too. Police reports say these guys are armed and dangerous." there was a dead silence, "Please tell me you know how to use a gun." "I -do- know how to use a gun... Sorta..." she opened the locker and pulled out a carbine, pointing it in the direction of Lucas as she looked it over. "Jesus, girl! Barrel down!" he exclaimed. "Jesus, man! Screw it! I wont use a bloody gun!" she threw it back in the locker with a loud thud, "All I need is~... This." Ryza grabbed a large blue water jug and hefted it to her feet. Lucas raised an eyebrow, "Water? You gonna use a super soaker on them?" a small smirk formed at the corners of his lips. Ryza shook her head, "I didn't tell you everything there was to know about me, G-Man. Fire isn't my only weapon." The van slowed down and Lucas got out, police sirens could be heard off in the distance. The streets were clear of pedestrians and cars save for a couple of cop cars pulling up to greet them. An officer came out and looked at Lucas, "Sir. We've been told to cooperate with you." the officer said, "Although I don't exactly know who are why we are, but when it comes down to these thugs, we could use the extra help." Lucas nodded and moved to the back of the van, unlocking it, "Don't worry gentlemen, we'll handle this situation from here on out. Just stand at the ready in case we're not enough." he grinned and opened the back of the van. Ryza stumbled out, pulling the combats up a bit, "Shit! How does anybody walk in these things?! I mean I feel like a fucking gangster like out of those american movies." The police officers were perplexed, they expecting something a little more... Professional. "Ryza, the police have them coming down that road. Just get in position before it's too late." Lucas ordered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He mumbled and sighed, "Already making our organization look bad..." Ryza walked out into the middle of the street alone, dragging the water jug rather obnoxiously with her. Once she got it into place, she took the lid of the jug off and kicked it over, letting is spill the large quantity of water inside of it into a sizable puddle on the street. She took a few steps back and looked over her shoulder to Lucas, "I definitely haven't told you much about myself yet, G-Man." a cloud obscuring the moon passed and her eyes started glowing blue again, unsettling the observant police officers. Lucas was expecting a fireball in her hand but when the air around her hands seemed to fog over, he tilted his head, "What the hell?" Ryza pointed her hands at the puddle of water and it all suddenly just flash froze. The police officers lowered the weapons and stared in awe. She then manipulated the ice and forced sharp jagged edges out of it, making an impromptu spike strip. Ryza then looked over to one of the cops, "What kind of car am I looking for?" she hollered. The cop took a moment to respond, "A-uh... A Dodge Challenger, 2010 model. Black." Ryza shook her head, "Americans and their muscle..." she mumbled and looked back in the direction she was pointed at. She could hear the screeching wheels and the powerful engine just around the corner. Over the radios behind her, she could hear the pursuing police breaking off so they didn't fall into whatever trap may be laying in wait. Ryza reached into her pocket and pulled out an iPod, sticking the buds in her ears as she stood there in wait. The moment she saw the car drift around the corner (sloppily in Ryza's eyes), she grinned and hit the play button on her iPod. Ryza then started forming razor sharp shards of ice out of the mist surrounding her hands. Five shards were formed and they floated by Ryza's shoulders. The glow in her eyes brightened up and she flung her right hand out quickly, one of the shards at her right shot at the car toward the driver. It missed intentionally, but it was enough for the driver to panic and try to make evasive maneuvers. She sent another one at the Challenger. "Too fast. Turning too sharp." she shook her head, "I feel like I could make a lot of money off of racing these chums... Drag racers, no skill in maneuvering." The car swerved and was now headed toward them at its side. She sent another ice shard through the drive side window, straight into the neck of the steering wheel. The driver tried to turn it but it was locked in place. Then they hit the ice spike strip, destroying the vehicle's tires. Ryza watched as it skidded closer and closer to her. She clenched her fists tight, more mist started to form in front of her on the street. She clenched her teeth and raised both her hands high into the air, a one foot thick wall of solid ice rising from the mist as she did. It was taller than her and as long as the car that was headed her way. Ryza turned to face Lucas and the awed police officers. She was still listening to her 'mood' music when the car slammed into the wall of solid ice. Her eyes glowing an intense blue-white. Her arms were still raised as though she were some magician that had just performed some magic trick. Ryza had a flare for drama and showing off. It made Lucas wonder how many times Ryza had served out vigilante justice while she wandered Japan. "Aaand for my next trick!" Ryza yelled so everybody could hear her. She flung her left arm outward and the wall shattered at her command. The thugs inside the car were disoriented from the sudden ambush. Ryza was already casually opening the door to the driver seat. The thug realized she was there and reached for his gun, he found an ice shard in his hand instead. The man screamed. The other thugs started to come to but found themselves with a shard poking each of their necks, "Don't move, boy-ohs." she wink at them with her impossible glowing eyes. The police were frozen still for a moment but realized that it was their cue to move in and apprehend them, they did just that. Ryza shattered all of the ice she had used to stop the criminals, it all pooled back into water and ran off into the drains. She stepped back, hands at her hips as she watched them all get arrested, they looked back up at her with fear in their eyes. Lucas stepped up next to Ryza as she started to ravel up her iPod earbuds. "What happened to the whole fire thing?" he asked, studying the mist around her hands. Ryza looked at the time on her iPod, "Three hours." she said. Lucas blinked, "What?" "Three hours until the fire thingy." she pointed to the slowly brightening horizon, then to the moon. Lucas nodded slowly, "I see... It changes with day and night." "Bingo." Ryza said and she started taking the uncomfortable gear off right on the street. "So I guess that'll determine your codename. What do you think Astral?" Lucas inquired as Ryza started making her way back to the van. "Sounds cheesy, but I don't give a shit, you can me whatever as long as its not butterfly." Ryza climbed back into her seat, "Now lets get to base. And don't wake me up this time." she closed the door. Lucas looked back at the cops and the criminals for a moment, "I'll swing by the precinct later to question these individuals, I already have clearance to go behind your locked doors. Oh and one last thing, forget what you saw here." he waved is hand, there was a small ripple in the air and everybody paused. The senior police officer nodded, "Good thing they got in that car accident then. You wouldn't be questioning them tonight at all, sir." Lucas grinned, "Good thing indeed." he headed back toward the van and drove off to bring Ryza to her team.

Code Name Astral Real Name Ryza Shiro Age 19 Gender Female Nationality Japanese Powers Astral-Elemental Synchronicity Ryza is attuned to astral patterns of the sun and the moon and draws elemental energies from them both. During the day, Ryza can wield the element of fire. At night, she can wield element of ice. When both the sun and the moon are in the sky and are visible, Ryza can wield both elements. When the moon eclipses the sun, her ice wielding powers are doubled. On the rarer occasion that the sun emits a solar flare, Ryza's fire wielding powers are doubled. History "Let me tell you about my life. Unlike a lot of the students here on this island, I didn't get the chance to grow up with a happy family and lead a girly life with shoes and purses and talking about boys. I was born into this world and put in the hands of a father that wasn't my own, some pushover cop who swung in after my real dad high tailed it out of Japan when he found out my mum with pregnant with me. My older brother, Nobu, had joined in some stupid little gang down the street and was being reigned in by my step-dad and the police every other night. The house was alright, I suppose, four bedrooms, two bathrooms, in a quiet neighborhood, but when your big bro is bringing girls over every night to fuck and friends over every day to drink and do drugs, ya it wasn't the greatest place to be. So, I spent the majority of my time at school. At least there it was quiet and secure and I didn't need to hear those sluts moaning in the next room. I did what you're supposed to do at school, learn and become a responsible young adult. I joined the auto-club in our high school and even got to be the school's driver in the racing league! But, unfortunately, all good things come to an end. My brother got hooked up with the yakuza and before I knew it, there were police asking me questions about every dirty little secret in my life. People at school were stupid and drew conclusions and it basically ruined the half decent reputation I had there. Some people feared me when they found out my big ol' bro was yakuza and avoided me. Others just stopped talking to me. The worst was the teachers treated me like a bloody criminal because these damn blues showed up at the class door to question me every damn day. So I stopped going to school and started learning at my pace, trying to distract myself from the new girlfriend Nobu had every day. Sooner or later, my brother's friends started forcing me to join them in their escapades. I don't know if I was scared cause they were thugs or if I was excited cause I got to hang out with some of Nobu's hot guy-friends. Regardless, there I was committing small crimes like vandalism and illegal street racing to win Nobu some money here and there. Problem is, I kinda liked it. I hooked up with one of Nobu's friends, we partied, we screwed, we fought, we broke up and that was that. You might be wondering why my step-dad cop didn't do a thing about this. Well, like I said earlier, he was a pushover. He was too afraid to come clean and do the right thing by kicking in Nobu's bedroom door and arresting him on the spot. But nope, he sat there and literally watched Nobu sell some drugs to some bum and then point a gun at him to get out of 'his' house. Fuck, if I went up to that guy and said 'Boo' he'd probably piss himself. So let's just take my step out of the equation here. Now, where do my powers come in? That whole night and day, fire and ice thing I can do? Remember when I was talking about that boyfriend I had. Well, I didn't know at the time that he was a metahuman. So when we got close, I mean real close, that son of a bitch passed it on like some sort of HIV, only that it was better and actually improved me. Should've seen the day we broke up, his car wasn't much more than a pile of ash afterward. And that was when I found out that I had powers. Sixteen years old and a fire-throwing, ice-shaping bad ass with a chip on her shoulder. So, with these newly discovered powers, I decided that I should take Nobu's shit into my own hands and try to straighten out my family. My little brother, only three at the time, was already swearing. I mean seriously, the kid's first word was fuck and he was imitating those Nobu's disgusting groans whenever he and his girl got a little loud. So, I waltzed into the house and punched my brother. I was gonna set his pants on fire after but it turns out, it wasn't just something I could call up on a whim, at least... At the time, it required some practice. So that didn't pan out too well. I got the beating of my life and nobody did a thing. I practiced for a few days in private to figure out how to tap into my new found power; when I did, I brought him into our back yard at night where I froze the guy's feet to the ground and shot apples off of his head with icicles. I purposefully missed one and put it straight into Nobu's shoulder and threatened him to never come back, 'leave us alone' I said. He left. When I woke up a day later, it was to a fire alarm. The entire house has been ablaze and the only reason why I'm alive now is because it was daytime and I was able to manipulate the fire around me. I cleared a path through the flames and went to my little brother's room, the smoke had already gotten him... I then went to my mom's, she wasn't there, maybe outside. So I went outside, and all there was were fire fighters preparing to enter, my step dad talking with more blues and in tears. And there I was, oblivious to what had happened, with a paramedic looking me in the eyes and getting unsettled by the orange glow of them that the sun gave me. When I learned what had happened, I was wrecked. The weight of my little brother's death was heavy enough. But when I heard Nobu and his band of thugs took mum and lit the house on fire, I was beyond repair. I mean, the fucker actually tried killing his family, he even succeeded a little bit. So he holds a special place in my heart that's hotter than hell during the day and colder than space during the night. So I was lost, I sure as hell wasn't going to live with my step, fuck that. I wandered about, driving some shitty car that was falling apart around me as I went from Southern Japan to Northern and back again. Along the way I got these sexy little jewels in my hands by some extreme body-modifier and some sick tattoos to go with it. After drifting around the country for a few months, I was coming up on eighteen, I decided enough was enough. I wanted to do something right and smart for a change. I wanted to enroll in school again. But no money meant no education, so I started racing. My piece of shit car ended up becoming a eighty-thousand dollar power house and I went to college for astronomy to learn more about my unique ability. College was college, y'know... Parties, drinks, sex, spring break, thinking you're smarter than the rest, pretty standard stuff. Except my attitude wasn't really meant for it, I may have made a fireball one too many time on campus grounds. My councilor said that the college wasn't a good place for me, and that I couldn't stay there without being a danger to the other students. As I was leaving the campus, downtrodden yet again, an american in some snazzy suit approached me offered me a proposal. Needless to say, I was intrigued by the idea, and I didn't exactly have a whole lot else to do, so I accepted his offer. Next thing I knew I was flying to America for some band of metahuman misfits. Now here I am, just landing and already being thrown from city to city as I get 'integrated' into their system." Personality Ryza is a bit of a problem child. She is quite rebellious and fiery, taking her pride to the next level is somebody tries to dent it. Loyalty is one of her biggest morals, she will kindly treat those who know how to keep a secret or come to her side when she needs a hand. She can't stand being called butterfly, and will often use her power as a means to intimidate if she is called that. She may come off as a bit of a bitch normally, but deep down inside, is a girl who wanted a happy family and happy life. Her desire for that makes her long for a lasting friendship with people that she can call a brother or a sister, but her exterior attitude often pushes people away. Those that do manage to breach her hard exterior, find a girl that had no control throughout her childhood. When it comes to talking, Ryza is rather unfiltered and will say what she has on her mind most of the time. Ryza is an avid racer and a competitor at almost anything she sets her eyes on. She loves driving and she actually seems totally at ease when she in the driver seat of a fast car. When competing against somebody, she will take a defeat honorably and respect her opponent or encourage them if they lose. Ryza enjoys the company of others who are into fun competition, and that is the best way to get to know the girl behind the bad ass. She takes up a challenge on a whim if it is claimed she can't do something which can sometimes be exploited to get the best of her. While Ryza may seem like a delinquent, she is actually very smart. She is always on time with her classes and diligent, never complaining about a bit of extra work. Ryza tries to keep her intelligence masked with a somewhat thuggish attitude, finding it funny when people think she will hit first and ask questions later, only to get a nasty surprise that she outmaneuvered and outsmarted her opponent in a battle of wits. The result: A quick thinking glass cannon. Ryza doesn't like talking about her family, and often tries to change the topic when it comes around. Appearance Ryza is a small girl with short black hair. Her skin is a brighter tan, common for most girls of Japanese descent. She has some muscle definition that suggests she is very active in her day to day activities. On her left shoulder is a flaming sun, on her right is a crescent moon. Between her shoulder blades, there is a compass tattoo. Ryza has piercings on both of her ears, just small ones, and a larger piercing in her belly button. She has two precious gems inlaid in the back of her hands, a form of body modification that isn't very common. The gem in her left hand is a blood red ruby and the gem in her right hand is an azure blue sapphire. Both gems are pure and flawless, she never discloses the price of them. Strangely enough, the gems don't seem to bother Ryza in the slightest. She changes her style up every other week, which usually includes different coloring in her hair or a totally different style of clothing. Ryza prefers colorful clothing and has a 'mix-it-up' attitude with them. She doesn't care if her top doesn't match her sweater. Ryza usually wears knee-high socks with shorts or a skirt but jeans aren't an uncommon sight with her either. She enjoys hoodies of varying style but likes the zippered ones the most. Ryza will commonly wear fingerless gloves to keep the inlaid gems out of sight or arm gloves on colder days, she doesn't keep the gems a secret but she doesn't like it when people gawk at them. Sometimes Ryza will wear caps.

Over the past few amount of days when the team had be inactive, Drake had been uncharacteristically quiet, not really attempting to communicate with any of his team at all. He had a few polite conversations, even greeted them with a smile, but he had to admit to even himself that he simply wasn't his usual cheerful self. Unfortunately he knew the reason for his dark behavior as well... He could't get the image of Witch, and even Izzy's mangled bodies out of his head. Death was part of what they were doing here, and he understood that. How could he not understand that? They were super powered people sent to fight other meta-humans with the powers of gods. Naturally there were going to be some causalities. The problem Drake had was he had made it his mission when he had first gotten there to limit those causalities to, preferably, zero. And if it couldn't be zero the at least he could make it so that the only casualty was himself. Yet Witch had died, Izzy had died (even if her power had allowed her to come back) and Gloria had come too close to comfort. In the back of his head, the boy knew that somehow it was his fault. If anything, if he had listened to Revel, or even Crosscut he knew he would have been able to prevent the deaths. In the end it was their lack of teamwork which had caused them such a impossible chance at success, and if it hadn't been for Revel and Glorias plan they would have all died. So why did Drake still blame himself? He honestly couldn't even answer that question. Now that they were in a meeting for their new mission, he simply took the folder to begin reading about this new opponent. At least there was less of a sense of urgency this time... They could have enough time to come up with plan and be able to go in a bit more coordinated. She didn't seem quite as much of a brute as the Immortal did... Hopefully more of the team would be able to help in this scenario.

Code Name: Chimera Real Name: Drake Marble Age: 18 Gender: Male Race: He's an all-American mutt, with Indian, Native American, Irish, German, Mexican, and pretty much anything else you could think of, but he comes from America. Powers: Drake is a shapeshifter, but strangely enough he can't use his powers correctly. Instead of simply being able to turn into something or someone at will, for some reason he simply can't do it. Instead, he must observe an animal or person he wants to turn into for almost hours at a time in order to perform the shift, so instead of simply trying to master several forms he's only mastered one, something which he calls the "Chimera". The Chimera is a massive beast almost the size of an elephant, and is a mix of the most deadly creatures in the world. It has the head and claws of a wolf, wings of a giant bat, the tail of a lemur, the horns of a rhinoceros, and a scorpions barb on the end of its tail. Drake is always trying to find room for improvement on this form, always researching animals to make it more effective in battle. As the Chimera he has incredible strength and speed, as well as the ability to hear and smell things from miles away. His wings allow him to fly for large distances, and even carry others with him at times. Origins/History: Drake came from a very normal, ordinary family with only one exception: his parents were both 'gifted'. His father was a shapeshifter, his mother had the ability to neutralize or negate most powers through genetic telekinesis. They assumed, given his mothers powers, that Drake would be a normal boy with no need to worry about things such as powers... They were greatly mistaken. Instead, what they got was a boy who's powers were absolutely out of control from a young age. He was completely unable to control his shifting, turning into the randomest animals at the most unpredictable times. So, Drakes mother used her powers in an attempt to permanently negate her sons abilities, and this did work... To an extent. Now Drake has to struggle in order to shift into something, sometimes to the point where it hurts, and his out of control powers did have a lasting effect on him. To this day his ears are permanently trapped in the form of a wolf, causing him to be highly sensitive to sound at times, as well as his hands always having the retractable claws of a cat. However he reuses to simply let his gift go to waste. Instead, ignoring his parents warnings, he set off to go use his strange power to help people, and to protect them... So far it hasn't been working that well for him however. He joined the MetaOps after another failed attempt to help someone, this time a woman being mugged. He had saved her of course, but at the very sight of the terrifying creature she had screamed and ran. This , a lot with several other incidents, caused the government to become involved and to attempt to detain him. However, they found the boy was extremely reasonable and willing to go without question. Soon enough, he was recruited to join the team with the promise hat he could use his powers to do the most good. Personality: Drake is a fun , easy going, and caring guy. Despite his power being truly terrifying and the stuff of nightmares, all he wants to do is help his friends and protect them, even at the cost of his own physical harm.

There was once a time when the Gemminite's were a proud and strong people, always in a favour of peace they were shrewd diplomats and knew how to get what they wanted. They could charm nearly every race that they came into contact, but that was before the savage nations of the south came up from their blighted lands. These nations had no need for diplomacy, they simply invade and take whatever they wanted. They were brutal and savage, the Gem peoples knew that they were not ready for war. In fear they searched for a solution, a way to keep their peace and way of life without having to fight and losing thousands of their people. That was when a nation to the west of Gemminia came and offered to help. This nation was just as brutal, just as savage as the nations to the south, but they knew how to twist diplomacy to their favour. They offered to fight the enemies of the Gemminites, but they wanted something in return and the Gem people desperate for help, as the southern nations were now on their borders, agreed to whatever the nation of Drakka wanted. The Drakken's pleased with what they got launched their troops for the southern borders of Gemminia. It was written that the Drakkens fought more savagely than the nations of the south, and that there has never been a people so addicted to the death and horror of war. The blighted peoples of the south fought hard, but their own brutality was nothing compared to the Drakkens. It was only then that the Gemminites wondered what they had agreed to, seeing that they had just made a pact with a people that seemed to love death, war, torture and all things that was against the nature of Gem culture. Once the war was won, the Drakken lords came to the court of the Gem's. Their armour still covered with blood and gore, their muscles still tense from the fighting, their eyes still seeking a honourable fight or challenge. They were in every way intimidating, and when they asked the Gem court for their prizes, there was confusion among the them. All the court looked to King Nixus, who frowned and nodded and with that the Gem guards grabbed the daughters of the court and gave them to Drakken lords. There was an uproar from the parents of the daughters that were taken, but they were quickly reminded of the power of the Drakkens when Oggar the Horrible threatened to annihilate the court and their country. With that the Drakken lords filed out with their new brides, but before Oggar left he turned to the King saying, "We will be back next year for more brides, if none are ready next year our peace will be... over." From then on, the Gem peoples have given up their daughters in order to keep the peace and to pay the Drakken's to protect them from the nations that will not use diplomacy. Kithra "Kitty" Kithra watched as the lands around her changed from beautiful fields and meadows to hills and a bit more rocky, though she could still the beauty of it. She was watching the changes in the land to distract her from the situation that she was now in, she didn't wish to look around the at the men that had taken her from her family. If she did she would be reminded that she was heading to a life of a form of slavery, but if she distracted herself she could imagine that she was going for a ride with one of her sisters. Maybe she was going to one of the cities to the east, maybe she would see the fire Gems, as they were rare out in the country side. But she knew that the landscape in the east was gentle, with rolling hills, vibrant green tree's and gardens so beautiful and wonderful that they amazed everyone that looked upon them. No, she knew exactly where she was going. She wanted to cry, but she willed herself to keep her emotions at bay as she didn't want the men to look at her with pity or disgust. I am strong, like the earth. I will be firm and not falter. She thought as she shut her eyes. She tried to remember everything her parents and older sisters had taught her over the years, but all she could see was her sisters running after the chariot and her parents trying to comfort each other as they watched as she was taken away. I might not even be picked, I might be able to go home. She thought and tried to hold onto that hope, but the feeling that she would be chosen was strong. When she opened her eyes again she could see the mountain range that separated Gemminia from Drakka, and they were heading to the narrow passage through the mountains that would also take then to the castle of Shadow Worth. The castle straddled the border of the two nations and it was where the Drakken nobles chose their brides. She felt her hands shake as they drew closer. It wasn't a long ride into the passage that castle Shadow Worth came into view. It was carved in the mountain about two miles above the passage, it held an air of foreboding and it was one that every Gem felt. Though she was sure that the Drakken's felt right at home. Kithra was taken into the castle and to the room where she was to get changed from her peasant clothes and get cleaned up. And to make sure that she didn't try anything stupid and guard was placed with her to make sure she got ready for the showing. Kithra felt slightly violated as she had to get changed in front of someone she didn't know and who watched her greedy eyes. Oh Goddess, if this just a taste of what is going to happen later I want to be dead. She thought as she straightened her back and raised her chin in the air, this made the guard raise an eyebrow. He was most likely not use to Gem girls doing that. She went over to the wash station and began to clean up, but she did it in such a way that she didn't expose herself much to the guards dismay. When it was time for her to dress she looked at the outfit they left out for her, it was a dark green and black dress. It would show her curves that much she knew. "Pigs." She said under her breath as she looked at outfit to the guard, who smirked. She narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw, "Turn around, I wish to dress." She said willing her voice to be strong even though her insides were like jelly. The guard continued to smirk before bowing his head slightly and turning around, "You have a minute, Gem." He said in a deep and rumbling voice. Kithra quickly dressed though she was sure that the guard looked over his shoulder, but she didn't say anything since she wasn't sure she wanted to argue at that moment. Once the guard turned around he smiled as he looked her over, which made her want to shiver but she tried to keep that hidden. "If you try anything, you will be tied up. Which might get more of my brothers interested in you. Now move." He said as he lead her down many halls to what seemed to be a ballroom. Why they had a ballroom was beyond her, as it wasn't like they had many balls here. That was when she realized that she was the first Gemminite in the room, her breath caught in her throat as she looked around the large room. Goddess! I'm the first one here! Oh Mother Earth give me strength. She thought as she straightened up and looked down the room and took notice of the Drakken lords waiting to make their choice. She would not give them the pleasure of outwardly showing her fear, no, she would be strong like her element. But she really wished she wasn't the first one out. Her dress

Booop

Annaveya Elizabeth Ranizov IV - The Price of Royalty Rattling along the road in a long trail of the unfortunate, the Princess sat in the middle seat of the rambling carriage in silence with her eyes closed. Accompanied by two handmaidens, the panicked Gemminite women exchanged glances time to time in peculiar confusion over their charge's seeming tranquility. Not a word was uttered by the Princess during the entire venture towards Shadow's Worth, weeping and sorrow could be heard from other carriages; but not from hers, she was a bastion for her people. Whether she liked it or not was of little consequence. What mattered was how she represented her people, and more importantly, the Royal Family. The Princess would remain to be unflinching and immovable in terms of emotion. At least as long as she could stand it. Coming to a grinding halt before the imposing fortress carved into the side of a wicked looking mountain, the brilliant aquamarine of the Princess' captivating eyes opened to look at the two handmaidens. The coachman opened the door that bore the Royal Seal, and first came the two younger girls too early to be wed. Then, and only then as they all swept into a low bow did Annaveya finally emerge. Before the hungering eyes of the guards and the desperate fears of her people, she remained an ever-resilient and shining gem. A star amongst the darkness in an array of beautiful silks that seemed to shimmer like water in the torchlight. Lightly plucking up the front hem of her dress so that she could walk properly, the long trail of silk behind her was humbly picked up by her handmaidens so that the fine fabrics dared not to touch the filthy Drakken earth that lay beneath her. With her eyes still closed, she strode towards the entrance of the castle. Other brides to be would pause to grant her entrance first. It was of grave consequence after all, beyond any doubt, a Drakken Noble would pick her to be their bride. A Princess was a rare treasure, after all. A willing Lamb to the slaughter for the sake of her people, Annaveya's eyes slowly opened to look enigmatically towards the two guards at the front gate. She was without fear, without hesitation. Seemingly before the eyes of all, she was here to do what was necessary for her people. Not a word was uttered as the door swung open and finally the hem of the dress would return to the earth as the two handmaidens still trailed a few steps behind their Princess. Reverence continued in silence as she climbed the staircase draped in thick crimson carpets and before long, she arrived in the room that she had been assigned. Even still, a Guard stood at her door and waited while the Handmaidens swept with her behind a concealing veil, and helped her undress. Slender, beautiful skin came to bear as she dipped her toes into a warm bath first, and then finally sunk into the depths. Running lavender scented soap across flawless Royal flesh, she remained in the water as long as she could bear to enjoy it. Nearly an hour later, she slipped from the watery depths and was dried off by the handmaidens before finally studying the garb she had been given by the Drakken to dress into in order to be properly inspected. Wrapped in the soft, warm fabric of a towel, Annaveya looked disapprovingly at the Guard who didn't utter a single word. Nodding to the girls who had accompanied her, the two young ones hurried towards another case and brought to reveal a dress of brilliant ivory hue. Across where her hips began, petals of a colored rosy hue, the color of the Royal Family danced across her legs as if the wind had blessed them. The nonsensical garment of the Drakken was something she refused to wear. Sadly, her people wouldn't have a similar option. Yet it was still a sign of defiance. Where her fellow brides-to-be might have collapsed, she would remain as strong as ever. For it were simply who she was, and little more. Guided by the guard as the girls placed a hibiscus into the wondrous light brown strands of her hair, her Aquamarine eyes settled upon a practically empty room. In spite of all her delaying, there was only one other Gemminite inside the massive room designated for their inspection. Yet despite this, with the slender curvature of her shoulders brought to bear, she held her chin high and regally walked down the center aisle, moving to stand beside the one other Gemminite girl. This girl, who was likely a peasant, had probably never even seen one of the Gemminite Royal family, let alone a Princess thereof. "Fret not, please." Annaveya stated softly, benevolently. "Find your strength, and embrace it. Breathe steadily, do not fear what lies before you. Simply do your best to understand the sacrifice you are making for our people. On behalf of the Royal Family," Instead of the other way around, the Princess humbly bowed to the girl. "I thank you, and am dreadfully sorry. Since formalities are of little use here, my name is Annaveya Elizabeth Ranizov the Fourth. Third in line to the Gemminite Throne." With a mild reassuring smile, she continued to speak. "You can call me Anna, if you would like. What is your name, hm?"

Princess Annaveya IV Race: Gem Age: 18 Element(s): Water Height: 5'4" Bio: The King of the Gemminites has had many children in his lifetime, but none quite like Annaveya. She is his the fourth daughter of his highness, and so beautiful was she that she was given the name of his grandmother. Like others of royal blood, she was raised in culture, music, song, and lastly a brilliant education. She developed a keen wit, and had a strong sense for the intrigues of politics and the weight that rulers bore upon the people. What she didn't know was that she was destined to bear a similarly horrible weight of her own. On her eighteenth birthday, the day that she would at last be considered an adult by her people, tall armored men stormed the celebration. In a show of ruthless power, the Drakken Noble's court had decided that she would join the bridal candidacy. Whether her mother and father liked it or not, she was to be wed away and taken off to a far away; likely to never be seen again. The carriage rattled and rumbled along the dirt road to her destination, to an unknown and miserable future. It felt as if she were little more than simply property for the ruling Drakken parties, a token of peace in an imbalanced society. Once she arrived however, she found that war had been declared. Not only was she doomed to be a future bride to a likely very barbaric husband, she was also now a hostage at best. Before any more blood was spilled, she desperately needed to find a way to end the war. Other: (input here)

Lugft Huron, the 2nd born Lugft Huron had made sure to be as close to the line as physically possible, he wanted a good look at every Gem who was about to walk out. Other nearby Drakken muttered about how unfair it was for him to be so close, after all it meant he could basically have first pick. They envied him, but in truth he didn't envy himself. As much as he loved women, specifically beautiful Gem ones, he was uncertain of what he wanted, a rarity for Lugft as he normally didn't want anything to complex. Lugft's last two brides were still fresh and bitter in his mind, seeing as they had both committed some form of tandem suicide less than a week ago in some futile way of rebelling. All it served to do was send him into a fit of rage, killing one of his servants. So he was back, and completely unsure of what he was looking for. He hadn't even been all that interested in his last two brides anyway, they hadn't had that... special something Lugft had been looking for. Something you could really show off, the perfect trophy but Lugft didn't even know what that something was, at least not in a bride. Despite this, he was hoping something would really catch his eye, so he was at the front for when it did. The first Gem out was beautiful, but they all were, and there was nothing particularly special about her, so he waited to see what the next offered. The princess? That got his attention, he could have practically touched the delicate thing. Now this? This was getting somewhere. He smiled as she passed, and even gave a small, mocking bow, before baring his exposed chest. Unlike other noble's he didn't wear under shirts, his chest was always bare in its thick impressive glow. Not that he needed to impress anyone, he got to pick not them, but he had never liked covering his chest, he saw it as a sign of ashamed weakness. As the princess passed he knew he had to make a claim for her, contested or not. But, she still didn't grab him like he had wanted yet, at least not enough. He had come here for two after all, so he looked back, and patiently waited for the next bride to pop out, and hopefully impress him.

Name:Lugft Huron Race Drakken Age 213 Elements Fire Earth Height 6 feet, 8 inches Bio Born to a prominent drakken family, Lugft was originally thought to be small and weak as he grew slower than most other Drakken. But, he compensated by having possibly the shortest fuse in existence and being one hell of a fighter. A beast on the battlefield, even among Drakkens he is often seen as a brute. However, he can put on airs of grace if he must, though he is never truly civilized. He is also a fan of trophies, and his manor is bedecked with helmets, weapons and other trophies. His most prized trophies however, are his bride(s), showing them off in only the finest of anything. But, he is still far from a kind man, as he is war mongering, quick to anger, and intensely stubborn. Other Often keeps his favorite sword on his person

Xrin Kiajer Xrin stood in front of one of the many windows that dotted the ballroom. The view outside unfortunately was not to his taste, the sky was dark and gloomy, as if it was about to rain, the dark mood outside did not help the gothic decor of the castle look any better. But what did he care, this would most likely be his last time here, he planed to chose one bride and leave without much of a fuss. That was not to say if his brothers interfered and argument broke out, or a fight, at the moment, Xrin was feeling quiet somber, a fight was not in his best interests at the moment. Xirn was wearing his armor, there was no reason for him to come to ball when there would be no dance. He did notice Lugft bare chested and pulling his weight around unnecessarily, as he always did. Xirn really did not like the man, he thought to much of himself, they may have been warriors, but they were certainly not barbarians, and Xrin did not like to be depicted as one. Xrin sighed, despite all the grooms here today, he was still ashamed to call them his brothers, he knew that most of the woman here today would not last a month in the houses of these men, Xrin's wife, maybe 2 if she didn't learn quickly enough, which was a much better ratio than the latter. Xrin noticed some of the women were finally arriving, he could not help but feel an attraction to the princess, that was what she was made to do it seemed. He could here her whispers from were he was standing, her introduction made Xrin chuckle. Princess, that was priceless, she had been destined to be striped of that title long before she was born, she was here after all. Xrin would wait for more woman to make their was into the ballroom before, making a decision, the two that were already her didn't interest him much any longer.

Xrin Kiajer Race: Drakken Age: 374 Element(s): Wind Water Height: 6'5" Bio: Xrin, just like other beings like him, was born to kill, to create chaos, to participate on an never ending cycle of death. There may have been those who wished to end this, but Xrin was not on of these people. He was a born killer, but he was not without his quirks. His father raised him to be merciful and reasonable, to use his brain. This stuck with Xrin up to adulthood, were he put it in practice. In this area of his personality, he is looked down upon, but his combat ability, gives his brothers enough reason to over look it. He shows reasonableness when dealing with others, including his bride, but that doesn't mean he won't take action when they show disrespect. Other: (N/A...yet)

The young man arrived at the village after an exhausting five-day ride, during which he'd had more than enough time to reflect upon his failure. And thus it was with the heaviest of hearts that he arrived at the gates, was allowed in by the guard and made his way to the stables. Dismounting and feeling his knotted muscles relax at last, he handed his horse to the stable boy, then stopped by the well to take some water, sipping it at first, then gulping and, last, splashing it over himself, gratefully rubbing the dirt from his face. He still felt the grime of the journey upon his body, though. His armour hung heavy and filthy and he looked forward to washing in the shimmering waters of the nearby river, hidden away in an alcove of a cliff face. All he craved now was solitude. As he made his way through the outskirts of the town, his gaze was drawn upwards – past the stable huts and bustling market to the winding paths that led up to the ramparts of the former Drakken outpost that now served as the movement's headquarters. Here was where his fellow rebels trained and lived under the command of Haerald, whose quarters stood in the centre of the citadel's crumbling towers. He was often to be seen staring from the window of his tower, lost in thought, and the man pictured him there now, gazing down upon the village. The same village that bustled with life, bright with sunshine and loud with business. To which, ten days ago, he, leaving for Shadow's Worth had planned to return as a triumphant hero. Never – not in his darkest imaginings – had he foreseen failure, and yet… A familiar insurgent hailed him as he made his way across the sun-dappled marketplace, and he pulled himself together, pushing back his shoulders and holding up his head, trying to summon from within the great rebel who had left the village, rather than the empty-handed fool who had returned. It was his brother, and man's heart sank further – if that were possible, which he sincerely doubted. Of all the people to greet him on his return it would have to be his youngest sibling, who worshipped the man like a god. It looked as though the boy had been waiting from him, wiling away the time by a walled fountain. Indeed, he bounded up now with wide and eager eyes, oblivious to the nimbus of failure that the man felt around himself. "You've returned." He was beaming, as pleased as a puppy to see him. The man nodded slowly. He watched as behind his sibling an elderly merchant refreshed himself at the fountainhead then greeted a younger woman, who arrived carrying a vase decorated with gazelles, her skin glinting in the midsummer sun. She placed it on the low wall surrounding the waterhole and they began to talk, the woman excited, gesticulating. The man envied them. He envied them both. "It is good to see you're unharmed," continued the boy. "I trust your mission was a success?" The man ignored the question, still watching those at the fountain. He was finding it difficult to meet his brother's eye. "Is Melindant in his tower?‟ he asked at last, tearing his gaze away. "Yes, yes." The boy was squinting as though to divine somehow what was wrong with him. "Buried in his books, as always. No doubt he expects you." "My thanks, brother." And with that he left his sibling and the chattering village folk at the fountainhead and began to make his way past the covered stalls and hay carts and benches, over the paving, until the dry and dusty ground sloped sharply upwards, the parched grass brittle in the sunshine, all paths leading to the castle. Never had he felt so much in its shadow, and he found himself clenching his fists as he crossed the plateau and was greeted by the guards at the fortress approach, their hands on the hilts of their swords, their eyes watchful.  Now he reached the grand archway that led to the barbican, and once more his heart sank as he saw a figure he recognized within: Aslaugh. Aslaugh stood beneath a torch that chased away what little dark there was within the arch. He was leaning against the rough dark stone, bare-headed, his arms folded and his sword at his hip. The man stopped, and for a moment or so the two men regarded each other as villagers moved around them, oblivious of the old enmity blooming afresh between the two rebels. Once they had called each other brother. But that time was long past. Aslaugh smiled slowly, mockingly. "Ah. He returns at last." He looked pointedly over the man's shoulder. "Where are the others? Did you ride ahead, hoping to be the first one back? I know you are loath to share the glory." The man did not answer. "Silence is just another form of assent," added Aslaugh, still trying to goad him – and doing it with all the cunning of an adolescent. "Have you nothing better to do?" sighed the man. "I bring word from Melindant. He waits for you in the library," said Abbas. He ushered the man past. "Best hurry. No doubt you're eager to put your tongue to his boot." "Another word," retorted the man, "and I'll put my blade to your throat." Aslaugh replied, "There will be plenty of time for that later, brother." The man shouldered past him and continued to the courtyard and training square, and then to the doorway to Haerald's tower. Guardsmen bowed their heads to him, affording him the respect such an experienced commandant rightfully commanded, and he acknowledged them knowing that soon – as long as it took word to spread – their respect would be a memory. But first he had to deliver the terrible news to Haerald, and he made his way up the steps of the tower towards the man's chamber. Here the room was warm, the air heavy with its customary sweet scent. Dust danced in shafts of light from the great window at the far end, where Haerald stood, his hands clasped behind his back. His master. His mentor. A man he venerated above all others. Whom he had failed. In a corner, Haerald's carrier pigeons cooed quietly in their cage and around him were his books and manuscripts, hundreds of maps and letters, either on shelves or stacked in tottering, dusty piles. His sumptuous armor flowed about him, his long hair lay over his shoulders, and he was, as usual, contemplative. "Master," said the man, breaking the thick silence. He lowered his head. Wordless, Haerlad turned and moved towards his desk, scrolls littered the floor beneath it. He regarded the man with one sharp, flinty eye. His mouth, hidden within his grey-white bangs, betrayed no emotion until at last he spoke, beckoning to his pupil. "Come forward. Tell me of your mission. I trust you have recovered the potential bride…" The man felt a trickle of perspiration make its way from his forehead and down his face. "There was some trouble, Master. The convoy was not alone.‟ Haerlad waved away the notion. "We are not a militia. When does our work ever go as expected? It's our ability to adapt that makes us who we are." "This time, it was not enough." Haerald took a moment to absorb the man's words. He moved from behind his desk, and when he next spoke, his voice was sharp. "What do you mean?" The man found himself having to force out the words. "I have failed you." "The princess?" "Lost to us." The atmosphere in the room changed. It seemed to tense and crackle as though brittle, and there was a pause before Haerald spoke again. "And the Drakken noblemen?" "Escaped." The word fell like a stone in the darkening space. Now Haerald came closer to the man. His eyes were bright with anger, his voice barely restrained, his fury filling the room. "I send you – my best man – to complete a mission more important than any that has come before and you return to me with nothing but apologies and excuses?" "I did –" "Do not speak." His voice was a whipcrack. "Not another word. This is not what I expected. We‟ll need to mount another force so –" "I swear to you I'll find her – I'll go and...‟ began the man, who was already desperate to catch sight of the foreboding castle again. This time the outcome would be very different. Now Haerald was looking about himself, as though only just recalling that when the man had left the village he had done so with two companions. "Where are the two other men?" he demanded. A second bead of sweat made its way from the man's temple.

Haerald Melindant Race: Gemminite Age: Late sixties. Element: Earth Height: Just below six feet. Bio: Unlike most Gemminites, who do nothing more than perform their expected duties without so much as a though of resisting, Haerald has long been at the forefront of an extensive extremist movement. As war draws nearer and nearer to the Gemminite home front, he sees this as the most opportune of moments to decimate the Drakkens' supposed superiority and allow the Gemminite people to reign over their Drakken counterparts. As for his actual history, Haerald was born into a typical farming family in an equally typical farming community, which was subject to methodical visits by those seeking brides. Since most every revolutionary with a thirst for blood requires some sort of revenge story or whatever, Haerald's own family was not only once but oftentimes brought to the Drakkens' attention, for, in their opinion, the Melindant brides were some of the finest in the land, meaning that Haerald could do nothing but expect all three of his closest siblings to be dragged away to some Drakken liar. Ever since then, he's vowed to bring down their vile rule over the land, and upon leaving his parents' home in his early twenties has begun organizing a violent uprising. Other: -

Sophia Ravencaller Her head still throbbed as she slowly exited the land of sleep and returned to that horrible realm that the living inhabit. Why did the Drakken have to hit so hard. As I came to, I noticed the cuffs on my wrists and feet. The cuffs and chains were made of steel. There was no chance that she could burn it with her flames. This... She accepted this. She was not happy about it but she did cry about it. She knew why she was in chains and she already knew it made the fate she was doomed to live worse. Her family had always been close and protective of their own. The family had gotten in the way of the Drakken's coming to take her away. Sophia was out riding a horse when the Drakken came for her. When she returned to the house a one sided fight had already broken out. She did not stand a chance when the Drakken finally found her. She did not resist but surrendered with the promise her family would come to no further harm. Sophia shifted uncomfortably in her chains and looked out the window of her carriage. The first sight to greet her eyes was the view of Castle of Shadow Worth. It filled her with dread. She thought she understood the Drakken, but a race that makes structures like these... It filled her with fear. For the first time She was afraid. The carriage pulled up to the castle and Sophia was escorted out. She moved slowly because of the chains. The Guards did not seem to care. They just pushed her to hasten her up. She was lead into a secluded area and with a laugh the guard told her to undress. She gently shook her head in disapproval. She did not say anything just held up her chains and with her eyes begged the guard to release her so she could comply. Once free, She wasted no time complying. She undressed and neatly folded her cloths. The guard presented her with a set of new cloths. Sophia took them an laughed. This outfit showed a lot of skin. Almost too much. It might have metal in it but it would provide no isolation from the cold. She might have to use fire to prevent from freezing in the skimpy outfit. She dressed quickly and quietly. Once dressed, Sophia did a spin for the guard. The drakken guard smiled but still grabbed her and cuffed her again. This time only her wrists were bound behind her back. It took only moments before the guard pushed her out into the ballroom for all the Drakken nobles to see. Sophia could only imagine how these beings would view her. Hands bound in chains and barely dressed for the part of a noble's wife. Still, She stayed quiet and held herself proudly as she took her place next to the other brides to be. She tired hard to conceal her ever-growing fear.

Sophia Ravencaller Race: Gemminites Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5 foot 4 inches Bio: Sophia was born to a long line of fire elementals. Her family owned acres of lands in which they worked and had enough wealth to survive if crops failed for a season or two. They grew more than wheat and corn, they grew grapes for wine and tobacco for cash. Sophia grew up on the property and grew very accustomed to being outdoors. She developed a passion for horse riding and archery from a young age. When the Darrken Nobles came to claim Sophia as a bride, Her most of her family refused. Sophia however surrendered to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed and to protect her family. Other: (input here)

“Goodbye.” The only word her mother had been able to choke out. Aery pressed her face into her hands for a moment, icy blue eyes full of tears as her thin mouth trembled. The look on her sisters’ faces when she’d tried to flee, that brief moment when she had allowed herself to hope, their sorrow and resignation. But then the guard had put a knife to Silenia’s throat, and her fragile resolve had crumpled, and she’d gone out of there without a fight. But not before… Aery clapped her hands over her ears like she could shut out her sisters’ terrified screams that were pressed into her memory. That was what she got for resisting. Her family either grievously injured or dead. Perhaps it was better not to know. A muffled sob escaped her lips before she could lock them. The carriage stopped; Aery quickly dried her face, looking out the small, barred window absently. Then she gasped and craned her neck for a better view. The enormous castle, dark stone and menacing. She bit her lip lest she cry again. Be a diplomat like you were trained, gods save you! What would your father think if he saw you in this state?! Be strong for your nation, Aerienna. She forced her face to relax, a bland smile on her lips. The guards laughed from somewhere outside, a key rattling in the door. They unlocked it and beckoned her out with a laugh, one taking a hold of her arm most intimately. She tried to yank out of the guard’s grip and got laughed at as the other put an arm around her waist. ”Let go of me, please.” She said softly. The guards just held all the tighter, and she bit her lip hard rather than cry like she was fixing to. They led her into a chamber, watching her like hawks. ”Please leave me alone.” She whispered. “I have to bathe.” “You can bathe while we’re watching.” Said one. Aery sighed, but stripped and climbed into the shallow bathtub, yelping at the cold water and blushing at the indignity of being looked at by those… men. She quickly scrubbed herself clean, wrapping herself in a towel as soon as she got out, lest she reveal anything. The men indicated a dress hanging on a mannequin. Aery looked at it, her eyebrows raising slightly. The gown was slender and ice blue, with thin straps and short flutter sleeves and silver embroideries. Nothing that her mother would have EVER allowed her to wear. But… She pulled the dress on, ignoring the men snickering behind her as they got a glimpse of her bare skin. She was mortified but she figured that she needed to get dressed quickly. Adjusting the fabric she looked in the mirror, wincing at how much skin it exposed. She didn’t really have all that many curves, still being little girl-ishly built even having just turned eighteen. But those curves she had were very much emphasized. She turned to the guards, flushing at their catcalls. They beckoned her out the door, down several hallways, and into a ballroom, where the sheer number of men there made her want to turn and run. If only she could. She was bustled into line along with some other girls. Absolutely terrified, she gently nudged one of them, a girl whose wrists were… shackled? Gods, she must be dangerous. ”Hello…” she whispered. ”My name is Aerienna, most call me Aery. What’s yours?” It couldn’t hurt to have a friend here, could it?

Booop

Now, this was something interesting. Two Gems who couldn't be more different. One looked so scared she may piss herself, which Lugft had seen before and thought was hilarious. The other was brave, appeared rambunctious, free willed, Lugft smiled. As interesting as the more brash Gem was Lugft had no interest in her, but knew EXACTLY who he wanted her to get picked by, non other than his dear "friend" the Bride breaker Sarek Zagmar, who was back in Shadow worth no doubt after another dead and crumpled Gem body was wheeled out of his manor. If bride breaker chose the spunky one Lugft would have a laugh. It was the other, delicate Gem that intrigued the second son of the noble Huron house. She was pretty and delicate and perfect, like all the others, but Lugft saw something new, a blank canvas. A trophy waiting to be truly shaped, a bride who would do as he said and be his perfect little trinket to show off. He would make a claim on that one, oh yes he would, and he would lop off the head of anyone who else who tried to get in his way, a point he decided to make overbearingly clear. So, he took a little risk. Lugft quickly snatched up the Gem's hand, and planted a kiss upon it. Surprisingly delicate for the large man. After releaseing her he let out a laugh and puffed out his chest, glaring about the room. That should give the others a fair warning, for their sake.

Name:Lugft Huron Race Drakken Age 213 Elements Fire Earth Height 6 feet, 8 inches Bio Born to a prominent drakken family, Lugft was originally thought to be small and weak as he grew slower than most other Drakken. But, he compensated by having possibly the shortest fuse in existence and being one hell of a fighter. A beast on the battlefield, even among Drakkens he is often seen as a brute. However, he can put on airs of grace if he must, though he is never truly civilized. He is also a fan of trophies, and his manor is bedecked with helmets, weapons and other trophies. His most prized trophies however, are his bride(s), showing them off in only the finest of anything. But, he is still far from a kind man, as he is war mongering, quick to anger, and intensely stubborn. Other Often keeps his favorite sword on his person

When the guards came for her Kasari was certainly surprised. There were many prettier girls in her country, and Gems more likely to submit to every Drakken whim. It wasn't as if Kasari planned to disobey, but she figured they'd disapprove of a Gem with a mind. Sighing heavily, Kasari walked herself out to the carriage, waving a final goodbye to her family as they rolled away. The journey was long, too long for the girl with testy patience, Kasari fidgeting in her seat as they travelled. "Nervous, Gem?" The guard sitting with her asked, a smirk on his face. Kasari rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Not quite. I'm bored, is there nothing interesting to do before we get there." The look she received from the guard was enough to have her laughing for the rest of the trip, the utter disbelief that the girl was bored instead of scared. Another reason she never thought she'd be picked. Kasari shrugged off the guards' attempts to pull her along, pointing her nose to the air in annoyance. "I can walk on my own, thank you very much." Her first mistake. Kasari fell to the ground, wide-eyed, as the guard's hand slammed into the side of her face. The blow was enough to draw blood from the side of her lip, the Gem stunned by the attack. While recovering, the man half-dragged her into the room she'd be changing in. She groaned at the fact that she'd be changing in front of a man that would not even be her husband, rolling her eyes a second time. Not wishing to be hit again, Kasari took a deep breath and stripped, changing into the scarce fabric that shone as red as the fire she controlled. Not wanting to seem like she was hiding behind her long, brown hair, Kasari pinned the bulk of it up to expose her pronounced collar bones. If these guys were looking for a show, she was going to give it to them. She paused, taking a moment for herself. Raising her pale green eyes to the ceiling, Kasari prayed that she would at the very least survive her future encounters with the beast nation of the Drakken. Obviously having taken more time than the guards would have liked, one of the men grabbed her by the bicep and practically pushed her into the ballroom with the other Gem brides and the Noblemen. Kasari was unsure, but she thought she heard the man hiss behind her, warning her to behave. Straightening herself out, Kasari marched herself up to the line, the nerves finally beginning to set in. Now that she was standing in front of them, Kasari's mind began to race, all of the negative thoughts she had been pushing away. Boredom was not something that was in her vocabulary now and the longer she stood there, the more she could taste the lingering metallic rust of her own blood in her mouth.

Kasari ("Ari") Liesma Race: Gemminite Age: 19 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'8" Bio: Full of life and brimming with energy, Kasari's family is known for their bold personalities and the fire running through their veins. As a family of more lively folk, Kasari grew up surrounded by laughter and warm hugs, a sentiment they were always willing to extend to the community around them. Sometimes too bold for their own good, work for the fire elementals was difficult but never dull. Even Kasari worked alongside her father and older brother, up until the day the guards came for her. Kasari might be peaceful by nature, but even a contained flame is still bright. Other: Kasari is quite attached to a pet lizard she had found in the garden as a child.

Do not mistake the fire for an enemy, Talli; the fire is what warms our days and keeps the darkness at bay at night. The fire is a harsh mother but a loving one nonetheless. Atallia turned over one of her father's girl lessons in her head, using it to sure up her defences. Fire Gems were viewed as a lot more hot-headed than the others but it was no curse she held - the fire closed her wounds and held her safe. Nothing could touch her when she felt it's gentle embrace. The carriage rocked, hitting a bump in the road and disturbing the small woman from her thoughts. Flicking her eyes open, she gently parted the curtains covering the windows ans watched as rolling green hills slowly faded to green mountains before eventually filling down to a boring grey. With a sigh, she released a breath she didn't even know she was holding in. She was going to show them all but it would be cowardly of her to take a placid husband and leave a violent one to her sisters. She was small, a fragile little doll that none except for the sickest would want to hurt - she could afford to be snarky and snap back at these bastards. As her journey ended in the imposing brute of a castle, Talli climbed down from her carriage too quick for her guard to even offer his hand in aid. These weren't normal men like the ones back home - they looked at her with a sheen of lust behind those eyes and she had little doubt that if she wasn't chosen as a bride, her innocence would probably still be taken. She was escorted to a room where she had to wash and change in front of one of her guards. His grin never faded as she turned, giving him a scathing look. For a second, however, she adopted a soft smirk that almost confused him. "It's said that fire Gems are covered in burn marks and scars, are you sure you still wish to stare?" The man chuckled at that and nodded towards the large basin of water. "I've seen enough of your kind, little fire Gem. So have the Lords, might I add. It's said that fire Gems are minxes in bed so I imagine you'll fetch some attention." Of course she was going to fetch some attention - she was going to show them that she didn't fear them. Atallia wouldn't stand and shake in fear while some Drakken tried to impress his buddies. Sighing, she returned to her scathing look which brought an amused chuckle to him once again. As she dragged her dress off, his eyes lingered along her body and she knew, despite being turned away, that he was imagining doing a few things to her. That thought alone nearly made her vomit but thankfully, he seemed to notice how she tensed, like a feral animal that had just heard the sound of a predator nearby. He wouldn't like his job if he had to chase her - she was a fast little thing and there was no hope in hell that a heavily armoured man like him could ever hope to catch her. Atallia hummed an old song from her childhood - it's words were mostly lost on her but she remembered it to be asking the Goddess for courage and honour. Both had their uses and would likely make an appearance. The dress wasn't to her liking, it squeezed much too harshly and exposed curves she didn't want to expose. With a smirk, however, she allowed her finger to trail down along the soft material that lined the armour. In one quick swipe, her fingers became as hot as a roaring hearth and the arms of the dress fell away. With that, her Dragon was exposed completely. That would grab some of their attention if her antics failed to do so. Lifting the bottom of her red and black dress, she trailed it along as she passed by the Guard who took up position behind her as another led them to the ballroom. The ballroom was surprisingly lavish despite only having one apparent purpose. A number of her sisters were already lined up and some of the Drakken dogs had already taken to inspecting them. As they reached the bottom of the stairs and came into view of the Drakken lords, she played her role perfectly. Stepping back like she was almost hesitant to move any further, she stepped back into her guard. With a hidden smirk and a perfectly positioned heel, she pressed her foot down which caused the man to shriek a little as his toes were squished. If that wasn't enough, she stopped pushing and instead looped her foot around to his calf and dragged, causing the man to go flying, sprawled out over the ground. "Gem whore!" He spat as anger took hold and he reached for his blade while rising. "I've seen enough of your kind, little Drakken, to know that when you fall, it's like a tree being uprooted. Are you sure your little head is still ok after that?" Her care was false at best and Talli simply slid past him, ignoring the other guard as she got into line. Lifting her arms, she crossed them over her chest but held her chin high, fixing the Drakken lords with a look that had exchanged its hatred for pure loathing long ago. A few of the other girls were shaking in fear but surprisingly, she couldn't help but smirk a little - she knew what she had to do and no fear could well up within her to stop her. Atallia was going to find the most violent one, the Defiler. Despite this, her eyes still challenged any to walk forward and test their resolve against hers. The first girl to be actually claimed looked like she was close to death just from fear itself and even though Atallia had a mission, she also needed to protect the weak. Turning her head to Lugft, she whistled softly. "Drakken, how about you leave the girl alone and come play with someone a little closer to your own size?" She was the smallest there so the joke should have saved her from brutal slaughter but she wasn't about to back down.

Atallia ("Talli") Faeron Race: Gemminite Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'2" Bio: If you believed that most if not all Gemminites were naught but some peace-loving, air-headed fools then Atallia is the living argument against that. Born in the north to the Faeron clan, she was taught from a young age that living under the boot of the Drakken was a nefarious business - they could either remain passive and wait until the boot stomped down or they could push back. Her family were one of the few in the whole nation that argued for the latter. After losing a sister to the Drakken, her father imbued within her that the continuation of the Drakken's very existence was a mockery to the Earth. Despite those rather serious lessons and the pressures of raising a daughter who was very clearly beautiful, her parents were good to her and gave her freedom to explore the world around her. It could have been the fire flowing through her but it seemed that from the outset, she was a flighty little thing with no regards for danger or rules. It landed her in more trouble than it was worth but she had quite a bit of fun annoying neighbours and numerous townsfolk. As she grew, Atallia didn't really change. Granted, she garnered a bit more attention from the males --a harsh curse that she remained unaware of-- and although she was a little more likely to wear a dress, you could almost always expect her to be causing a ruckus. Her ascent to womanhood was grateful, at best, but instead of just echoing the dying embers of rebellion, she became a soaring ember - something that the Gemminites could stand behind. Quick-witted and armed with a tongue sharp enough to draw blood, very little people could hold up an argument against her. Like a roaring flame, she was unpredictable and answered to no one. No one, that is, until the Drakken guards came calling. Talli had heard the stories like any Gemminite child of how the Drakken came and took their brides from the beautiful swathes of Gemminite youth. She had heard the stories of the Huron families and how girls suffered a life of abuse that was only ceased upon pregnancy. And the Zagmars, who became known as the "Defilers" for the fact that their brides went through horrors of catastrophic levels and more often than not, bucked under the pressure. Naturally, she didn't credit herself with much in terms of beauty but she was enough to warrant being chosen to become a bride. Strangely, as she was taken, she didn't fight or argue - this was an opportunity for her. Her intent was abnormal. She was going to show her people that they should not fear the Drakkens; she was going to have them hesitate the next time they picked their wives and there was no way in Hell she was going to destroy some light-hearted fellow. She would find the best of them and tear him a new one. Other: Atallia has a tattoo of a dragon upon her left shoulder. The origins of said tattoo will probably be explained IC. Her eyes are a gold colour but they've been known to light to a powerful red when she's particularly angry. Isn't the strongest in terms of magic but has enough cunning and tactical genius to use it where it counts. She's not suicidal either - she'll pick her battles.

It was not unusual to see scores of Drakken Warlords approach the castle where the Bridal Selection was being held. Many of them were present each and every year. Some others only selected a bride every so often, but their faces were not strange to behold. But then, there was him. His arrival, in and of itself, was a miraculous oddity. There were some that knew him, possessed insight into his personal life, and therefor could foresee his coming, but even to them it was far from ordinary to see Wilhelm the Black in the flesh anywhere, save the field of battle. And yet, there he was, making his way to the doors of the fortress as thought it were a mere matter of course. Whether it was from shock or fear, the other Drakken all seemed to ebb and flow aside and out of his path. He knew they would. They always did. Wilhelm never stopped walking. His feet carried him in a direct path from his personal steed, past the guards at the front, through the hallways, and into the selection chamber. He never found cause to alter his course in the slightest- the gathering crowd seemed to part before him to give Wilhelm passage. Only when he had gotten close enough to see the Brides did he pause in his steps. This year's selection was certainly a display to make the greatest of them salivate with anticipation. Indeed, many Drakken were doing just that as the Gemminite girls were paraded before them. One in particular, a brute Wilhelm knew to be Lugft, had already laid claim to one of them and was standing over her like a lion over a kill, almost daring the others to contest him. It mattered not to Wilhelm. His eyes turned away from the squabbles of other Drakken, only searching along the Gems on display. And then, they found what they had searched for. She was young, as were all the girls, but this one... she carried an air of worldliness, of understanding about her. She had the maturity of one over twice her age, and a beauty that, in Wilhelm's eyes, dwarfed those around her with ease. In that instant, Wilhelm the Black's course was decided. And, as in all that he did, there was no hesitation to be seen. With swiftness and poise his steps resumed, his course slicing through the crowd like a knife as he cut to the line of brides. He stopped before the vaunted Princess, his form towering over hers by over a foot. His hand rose and brushed away a few strands of her soft, brown hair from her face. He spoke but one word, yet in the resonance of that word was a seal; a seal upon the girl's future, her present, her self. "Exquisite." With that, he offered her his hand, and despite all evidence to the contrary, Annayeva would know that to refuse him would bring terrible consequences...

All credit for the above image goes to Genzoman (whose artist signature I was forced to crop out on account of potential content rules) Wilhelm the Black Race: Drakken Age: 387 years Element(s): Fire & Air Height: 6'7" Bio: Few Drakken are as respected or feared as Wilhelm the Black. The rumors about him are every bit as wide and as varied among his own people as they are in the horror stories told about him across the land, but nobody knows what is true and what is not. Wilhelm does not allow anybody entrance to his domain save her servants, all of whom have somehow lost their ability to speak except to him. What is known for certain is that he is terrible to behold in battle, that he moves like liquid smoke, and swiftly dispatches any who cross him. Some whisper that he could depose the Drakken King with startling ease, if he so chose, but Wilhelm himself dismisses such mutterings as folly. And once dismissed, such things are never brought before him again; it is well known that Wilhelm does not tolerate slants against himself or his household in any measure. What is more remarkable is that, despite his hand being heavy in any conquest, Wilhelm rarely chooses to indulge in a Bridal Selection. At any one time, he keeps a mere three wives of his own, but never less than that; when one of his three wives has died, she is replaced as soon as possible, like clockwork. Other: Wilhelm is undefeated in duels, and only one of the Drakken Princes has ever managed to land a hit on him.

Lugft was about to laugh. A new Gem had walked out, and it was as if all the stars aligned, how fucking perfect. He wouldn't dignify her outburst with a response of course, but even if he had wanted to more pressing matters were at hand. Wilhelm, it had to be Wilhelm, Lugft suddenly found himself so overwhelmed by rage he almost snapped the neck of the nearest Drakken, who happened to think it was absolutely hilarious. Of every god damned Drakken their, HE had claimed the princess, HIM the only man Lugft didn't want to start a fight with. Even so, Lugft hadn't even known Wilhelm was coming, he wouldn't have even entertained taking the princess if he had. Suddenly he needed something fresh, something fierce, satisfying before he snapped someone's neck, and then he looked back at the Fiery Gem. If she was paying attention she would see the blood drain from his eyes along with the fury, replaced by what could only be described as some perverse type of glee. He took her hand like the last, and said quietly, "Actually, little Minx, I think I'll take you, and the little one, so you two should get to know each other." He laughed after that, and released her hand. He was done here, and as soon as the preceding ended he would take his chosen two and leave, assuming he wasn't challenged.

Name:Lugft Huron Race Drakken Age 213 Elements Fire Earth Height 6 feet, 8 inches Bio Born to a prominent drakken family, Lugft was originally thought to be small and weak as he grew slower than most other Drakken. But, he compensated by having possibly the shortest fuse in existence and being one hell of a fighter. A beast on the battlefield, even among Drakkens he is often seen as a brute. However, he can put on airs of grace if he must, though he is never truly civilized. He is also a fan of trophies, and his manor is bedecked with helmets, weapons and other trophies. His most prized trophies however, are his bride(s), showing them off in only the finest of anything. But, he is still far from a kind man, as he is war mongering, quick to anger, and intensely stubborn. Other Often keeps his favorite sword on his person

Zaerna Throt'oll With a breathy sigh, Zaerna flipped a thick tress of vibrant orange hair behind her ear as her stance shifted, her weight now on her left leg. She looked around, unimpressed, at the people and setting around her. She had never been to Shadow Worth before this moment, but standing amid its arches and tapestries now, she was unimpressed. Her own manor was much more intimidating and comfortable at the same time, and she had obviously hired better sculptors. The men around her were nothing special, either. She had expected to meet some worth-while men during her stay here at Shadow Worth, at least some she could take to her mother about to with-hold another conversation about her "hunt for a husband." But, standing in a rag tag group around her were a bunch of less-than-desirable mates. If she had looked at them as any higher than dogs, Zaerna would have pitied the incoming Gemminities for garnering such weak husbands. Although she was clad in her gold-filigreed armor, Zaerna's femininity was still quite obvious. A royal purple coat was draped over her shoulders, hiding the obtrusive form of her war-mace at her hip. Her armor ended with high, heeled boots and her armor was crafted to show the shape of her bust without presenting any specific structural disadvantage. Her journey to the castle was followed by many curious eyes. Many questioned why she would want a wife at all. A woman of her age and stature should be looking at a husband. In truth, she didn't (not any more than she wanted a husband), but she had earned the new pet and fully assumed to get one. She doubted these little gems had ever seen a woman of her kind before. She withheld a snicker and it turned to a sneer: she was fully expecting them to fawn over her in an attempt to get a merciful lover. She let a few of the quavering brides arrive before she made her appearance known. First, a fat faced girl who held absolutely no interest to the experienced sorceress. The next was somewhat interesting; very regal looking thing that held herself as if she were important. Zaerna absently tapped on the bottom curve of her horn as she inspected the girls. The third caught Zaerna's eye if only for the fact she was chained. At first, she wondered how feisty she could get, but she soon made it clear that whatever act of bravery she had shown was an anomaly to her; she stayed silent. The fourth girl was just some stumbling waif and Zaerna scoffed. The fifth, scantily clad in some beaded ensemble, came through without incident or originality. She joined the group and barely acknowledged the group of Drakkens. It was at that point that a man, distantly familiar, stepped forward and "delicately" took the waif's hand to his mouth and kissed it. Zaerna rolled her eyes at the look he shot the rest of his kin - she doubted many wanted such a dainty creature. It wouldn't last. On an unrelated note she felt immense irritation at the fact the man walked around shirtless. No doubt he spent half his time in battle defending his bare flesh for his own vanity. Another gem stumbled into the ballroom, this one looking just slightly roughed up. She looked around with wide, almond shaped, gray eyes. Zaerna found her to be the most aesthetically pleasing of the lot so far. The unadorned one with blue hair was cute, but not in an exotic way like this last one. A commotion sounded at one of the smaller doors, and Zaerna turned in time to see a gem entering the room and leaving her male guard on the ground. She had no idea how that guard was able to be tripped by the scrawny thing that sauntered into the room, but she hoped he got fired. The girl had a tattoo exposed, which she probably thought made her stand out, and her look of surprising confidence made on of the female Drakken's eyebrows arch highly. Internally, she laughed at whatever fool was going to take her in some attempt to "discipline" her. Women like that deserved no recognition nor gratification for their actions. If Zaerna got stuck with her, she'd merely throw her in the dungeon for a few weeks without food or contact - and what fun would that be? Sure, beating the piss out of her and wiping that look from her face through devious torture would be immensely satisfying, but Zaerna had prisoners of war she could do that to. To her credit, she called to the barbaric male who claimed the waif from before. At least she had backbone. Into the room, late but not caring came Wilhelm the Black. He strode straight to the Princess, which didn't surprise Zaerna as that gem was garnering quite the attention. Zaerna gave no prudence to her: her family held no power and neither did she, especially now, no matter what illusion the pathetic gems found themselves under. At that point, with many distracted by the towering figure how had just arrived, Zaerna stepped out from the back of the crowd to get a closer look at the assembled brides. Her steps were sounded but the click of her heels and her cloaked swayed elegantly with her easy gait. She looked at each, from a few feet away, from head to toe, ignoring any word they thought they had the right to utter. She stopped at the Gem with gray eyes, her slender hand coming up to career the side of her face. It was reddened and raised, as though she was struck. "Tell me, pretty one, what did you think you had the right to do?" Her voice was smooth and actually pleasant, but her tone was amused and condescending.

Zaerna Throt'oll Race: Drakken Age: 189 Element(s): Wind, Earth Height: 6'4" Bio: The large Throt'oll family is one that has managed to birth about a dozen women in the last five decades. They seem to be blessed with women, and as such they have gotten quite influential with their family ties, having married these daughters off to many different, powerful merchant and military families close to them. Zaerna herself was actually born to a Drakken mother, Since birth, Zaerna has been treated quite differently than her brethren. Although she was raised to fight and war-monger all the same, she instead was taught to focus on managing to marry the most prominent man she could, as opposed to seeking glory on the battlefield (although her service was never discouraged). Having never been too interested in doing that, Zaerna has been a constant source of aggravation for her noble family. She is a fiercely independent, hedonistic woman, who cares little for the societal norms of her home. She cares little for the opinions of others, and instead of getting angry more often gets amused. She has a terrible superiority complex, especially against her brutish kin. Throughout her youth, she was rebellious and particularly spiteful, and left for the military as soon as she could. As one of the only women of her entire division, Zaerna has spent most of her time alone. As such, she is blunt and self-sufficient. In the army, what she lacked of her brothers' strength she made up for with her elemental abilities. She wields a family heirloom warmace named Mother's Kiss. She has recently returned from a distant operation which warranted her a wife. Other: N/A

Aery felt black spots on her vision as she swayed on her feet. The first one to get picked. Of course. Hearing the Fire girl speak up in her defense, she glanced in that direction. A girl with a tattoo and a fierce expression in her gold eyes, a proudly raised chin, and she was not all that much bigger than Aery herself. But of course it did nothing for the other girl, except bringing her to the man’s attention. Still… “Thank you.” she said. “But you shouldn’t have done that.” She heard the man’s words and bit the inside of her lip to try to hold back the tears that welled up. Her parents’ lessons had been drilled into her head since she was little. Do not trust the Drakkens. They are evil and cruel. They’d shown her a thousand images, taken her and her sisters to talk to parents who’d lost daughters, to hear the rumors of what was done to the brides. Do not trust the Drakkens, do not go willingly, or you’ll suffer a fate worse than death. If do wind up being taken, though, don’t resist, or your life will be over before you can blink. She felt sick just thinking about what the man might do to her. Aery shut her eyes, breathing in and out slowly, trying to calm her heart fluttering in her chest. It would do her no good to have a heart attack and die of fear, like her aunt had done when in this situation. No good at all. If she ever wanted to see her sisters again she would have to just tough it out. One, two, four, eight She took in a long breath, calming her shudders. Sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four, one-twenty-eight. Breathe out. Two-fifty-six, five-twelve, ten-twenty-four, twenty-forty-eight. She opened her eyes, the panicked terror in her dulled to just fear. Forced a bland smile onto her face, keeping her eyes unfocused lest she panic again by realizing her surroundings. Ignorance is blissful. Ignorance is blissful. She could live through this while keeping her mind somewhere else. And maybe then things wouldn't register consciously as being terrible.

Name:Lugft Huron Race Drakken Age 213 Elements Fire Earth Height 6 feet, 8 inches Bio Born to a prominent drakken family, Lugft was originally thought to be small and weak as he grew slower than most other Drakken. But, he compensated by having possibly the shortest fuse in existence and being one hell of a fighter. A beast on the battlefield, even among Drakkens he is often seen as a brute. However, he can put on airs of grace if he must, though he is never truly civilized. He is also a fan of trophies, and his manor is bedecked with helmets, weapons and other trophies. His most prized trophies however, are his bride(s), showing them off in only the finest of anything. But, he is still far from a kind man, as he is war mongering, quick to anger, and intensely stubborn. Other Often keeps his favorite sword on his person

Annaveya - The Price of Royalty Theme~ Slowly, the Princess' eyes closed as a barrel-chested Drakken mockingly bowed to her. Even caged like a canary, she refused to sing for him or play his games. Prideful of her blood, and the surety of her cause, she stood strongly without the unnecessary spice and verve that others had shown to possess. She was above that, above the physical violence and transgressions, a symbol of regal nobility as she had always been trained to be. Quietly, the canary's breadth remained steady and smooth, as the bared collarbone of her dress betrayed the tranquility she contained. Beautifully, so beautiful that even other Drakken paused in their breath, she simply smiled slightly. It were the first hint of any sort of emotion that rose from the Princess, and it simply seemed extraordinary. Just like her father and mother had taught her, the stillest waters oft run the deepest, disguising the extraordinary tempest within. Unflinching as other girls were paraded in, the Princess simply stood in wait. Not even recognizing the eyes that hungrily strayed over her form. Above them was she, and the regality that lingered within her consciousness refused to collapse to the savagery that the Drakken possessed. Even from a female, there was a hint of interest, but Annaveya cared little. Royalty is what she had been born into, and royalty she would forever remain; whether the one who chose her liked the choice or not. Yet the air stilled as a Drakken arrived late to the party. Even as she heard heavy footsteps echo past the sounds of mixed defiance and struggle, she remained utterly passive. This was not the moment for spitefulness or hatred, at least the Princess understood it that way. Closer the steps drew, until they paused. Whomever it was had certainly stopped to observe the various treasures that lay before them as the aquamarine beset upon her choker seemed to glisten in the fickle torchlight. Above the struggle of her people, she finally spoke. "Sisters, each of you are to me." She softly uttered with clarity, dignity, and purpose. Though quiet, her beautiful but melancholy voice carried through the air so vividly; enchanting any ears that would hear her. "Fighting now will resolve little, you know this. Execution on your first night seems not the wisest notion to partake, and I do not wish to see any bloodshed here. Please, make your peace now, but do not break before those who stand above us. These Lords and Ladies are the protectors of our home, fighting against them will only mean the deaths of thousands more, the sacrifice we make tonight will not ever be forgotten. Take solace in that." Yet even then, her wondrous eyes only partly opened to see a towering Lord stand before her. By over a foot, he loomed over the Princess. However, his hand possessed a chilling caress that brushed stray strands of hair from her pale cheek. Resiliently, she did not break from his studious gaze as her eyes proudly met his. She was not a lesser being before him, at least in her thoughts and heart. Whether he liked it or not, or whomever had her hand as a bride at the night's end, she would forever believe herself never beneath anyone; nor above them. "Exquisite." Was the only word that rumbled forth from the Drakken Lord who towered above her. She knew all too well who he was, having heard nightmarish tales of fire and smoke upon the battlefield. Not long after, he offered his hand to her and she slowly curtsied before him. Collectively, a sigh of disappointment rippled through the lordly Drakken as her slender fingertips rose to be held tightly by his digits. Perhaps in a show of dominance, he smoothly swung her about. The ivory Gemminite dress liquidly flaring about her, beautiful, natural moving, and full of fiery splendor much unlike the tighter, primal Drakken Garb the other girls had been fitted into. In the moonlight that cast a pale spotlight, she shone brilliantly as if the pale orb in the heavens celebrated her exquisite beauty. The spin he had cast her into caused he to be extended just to his fingertips as she was spun back into his form, the magnificent dress she wore flaring about in a flurry of fiery crimsons beset in purest white. She remained close then, her back just inches away from his front as the Lord's fingertips traced a thin line along the beautiful and unspoiled curvature of her neck. Swaying subtly to the light music that had been played since the Brides had begun to enter by musicians settled at the front of the room beside candlelight. Possessively then, the Lord's hand seized her waist with his much larger hand, and her own settled softly atop it as he drew her into him. Holding her close, her head turned and tilted ever lightly so that her lips were millimeters away from the corner where his neck found his shoulders. Still proud and regal as ever, she spoke a subtly taunting challenge to the other Lords who stood and watched, some amorously, some enviously, others hungrily like wolves. "Will I be his? Or do all Drakken Lords and Ladies falter before an opponent that might trouble them? If so, why do you defend my homeland?"

Princess Annaveya IV Race: Gem Age: 18 Element(s): Water Height: 5'4" Bio: The King of the Gemminites has had many children in his lifetime, but none quite like Annaveya. She is his the fourth daughter of his highness, and so beautiful was she that she was given the name of his grandmother. Like others of royal blood, she was raised in culture, music, song, and lastly a brilliant education. She developed a keen wit, and had a strong sense for the intrigues of politics and the weight that rulers bore upon the people. What she didn't know was that she was destined to bear a similarly horrible weight of her own. On her eighteenth birthday, the day that she would at last be considered an adult by her people, tall armored men stormed the celebration. In a show of ruthless power, the Drakken Noble's court had decided that she would join the bridal candidacy. Whether her mother and father liked it or not, she was to be wed away and taken off to a far away; likely to never be seen again. The carriage rattled and rumbled along the dirt road to her destination, to an unknown and miserable future. It felt as if she were little more than simply property for the ruling Drakken parties, a token of peace in an imbalanced society. Once she arrived however, she found that war had been declared. Not only was she doomed to be a future bride to a likely very barbaric husband, she was also now a hostage at best. Before any more blood was spilled, she desperately needed to find a way to end the war. Other: (input here)

Xrin Kiajer Xrin frowned, he felt the room get tense for a few second. He was entirely uncomfortable in an small enclosed space with a bunch of horny Drakken. It was like putting a male and female mouse in a small room, but preventing them from mating, not a good idea. As more and more woman entered the ballroom, so did the testosterone levels of all the men on the room. Wilhelm and Zaerna, had most likely already chosen there brides, although Zaerna was a woman, one really cares that she chose to have a woman instead of a man. Xrin sighed, he would have to choose from what was left, it seemed there were better woman than the first few. There were the confident ones, which helped lighten Xrin's mood a bit. He walked away from the window for the first time, and he strolled to the line of woman and inspected the ones that were not chosen out of respect. Each one was good looking, so the Drakken elders did their job well, now it was all up to personality. The confident one would have proven difficult to handle if she didn't show respect, but she could learn quickly. Xrin walked up to th blue haired one, she had shown confidence in the face of adversity, if she could show respect, he would defiantly enjoy her. He pointing at her, his face like it always was, alert and serious. "I choose you." He said gruffly. He choose not to touch her, not like the others did, there was not need for that at this time.

Xrin Kiajer Race: Drakken Age: 374 Element(s): Wind Water Height: 6'5" Bio: Xrin, just like other beings like him, was born to kill, to create chaos, to participate on an never ending cycle of death. There may have been those who wished to end this, but Xrin was not on of these people. He was a born killer, but he was not without his quirks. His father raised him to be merciful and reasonable, to use his brain. This stuck with Xrin up to adulthood, were he put it in practice. In this area of his personality, he is looked down upon, but his combat ability, gives his brothers enough reason to over look it. He shows reasonableness when dealing with others, including his bride, but that doesn't mean he won't take action when they show disrespect. Other: (N/A...yet)

Sophia Ravencaller Sophia stood pride and tall as she tried to avoid eye contact with Drakken nobles. She tried to harden herself against the moment, however she was exposed for all to see. This feeling was not that of a sheep in the presence of a wolf but that of an unarmed shepard surrounded by an entire wolf pack. She knew how to hold her ground. Her time in the outdoors taught her that. However, there was no way for her to overcome a single Drakken alone. For now she imagined she was a slowly burning ember awaiting the right tinder to turn into a raging wildfire. Patience, She needed patience. When Sophia was nudged by another bride, Sophia had nearly cried out in panic. Fortunately, she was able to bite her tongue. She had been in thought so long she did not notice the other's approach. She glared with anger as the other bride spoke to her. What was the purpose of her addressing Sophia? Sophia quietly replied, "Aery, remain quiet. Do not bring any unneeded to yourself. The name is Sophia by the way..." She straightened herself out and resumed her stance. Sophia's chains were beginning to hurt. She could not help shifting slightly to try to relieve the discomfort. Nothing helped. At herself, she grow madder and madder. Nothing was going 'right'. She was attracting too much attention. Fortunately, the horned freaks before her were concentrated on the gem princess. Not surprising. The princess had formal training and former status. She seemed to want to be sacrificed for the sake of the others. Unfortunately, The princess looked like she got claimed by a very impressive looking Drakken. No one looked like they would offer challenge to his claim.

Sophia Ravencaller Race: Gemminites Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5 foot 4 inches Bio: Sophia was born to a long line of fire elementals. Her family owned acres of lands in which they worked and had enough wealth to survive if crops failed for a season or two. They grew more than wheat and corn, they grew grapes for wine and tobacco for cash. Sophia grew up on the property and grew very accustomed to being outdoors. She developed a passion for horse riding and archery from a young age. When the Darrken Nobles came to claim Sophia as a bride, Her most of her family refused. Sophia however surrendered to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed and to protect her family. Other: (input here)

Kasari took a bit of comfort in the princess' words, regaining a bit of her confidence from before. This was what was best for her family, what she was doing would keep them safe for another year. She began to realize that she wasn't so much afraid of the Drakken as she was nervous about the situation itself. Kasari, a fire Gem that wasn't known for her grace or beauty, wielding intelligence common amongst the Gemminite people, was to become the bride of the most powerful race she had ever heard of. It was terrifying, and now that she was standing before them, it was becoming real. She had mixed feelings over the doting the princess received, constantly shifting her weight from one foot to the other in thought. Of course she was happy the more brutish characters had their eyes on her, it meant that she didn't have a million eyes on herself. However, at the same time it sort of hurt her inner pride at not having the Drakken drooling over her. She had to calm herself from another bout of panic, trying to breathe as evenly as possible so as to not show her concern. It was difficult with thoughts of inadequacy, the images of dead Gem women who didn't make the cut for the men in search of brides. Kasari didn't know if those stories were true, or if it was a figment of her overactive imagination. She watched on with mild concern as the Drakken spun the princess around possessively, his actions met with a confident challenge from the Gem. "She is going to cause some serious trouble." She mumbled out loud to herself, turning her eyes to meet the rare sight of a female Drakken. The presence of such a creature was astonishing to the Gem, never before had she heard of female Drakken taking a Gem for a bride. For a moment all Kasari could do was stare in awe, looking around to see if the blow to her head was effecting her vision. "I..." She hesitated, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Walk without some guard dragging me along behind him. I wasn't previously aware that it was considered a crime."

Kasari ("Ari") Liesma Race: Gemminite Age: 19 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'8" Bio: Full of life and brimming with energy, Kasari's family is known for their bold personalities and the fire running through their veins. As a family of more lively folk, Kasari grew up surrounded by laughter and warm hugs, a sentiment they were always willing to extend to the community around them. Sometimes too bold for their own good, work for the fire elementals was difficult but never dull. Even Kasari worked alongside her father and older brother, up until the day the guards came for her. Kasari might be peaceful by nature, but even a contained flame is still bright. Other: Kasari is quite attached to a pet lizard she had found in the garden as a child.

Kithra It wasn't a long wait for the other brides to show up, which was both a comfort and a horror as that meant that the Drakken Lords would be choosing soon. She was looking at a spot on the floor and not directly at the brutes that wished to take her and her sisters away. That was when she heard a voice that sounded proud and offered words of comfort. She looked up to see the princess, she looked very beautiful and was wearing something that was obviously not the clothes left for her. She held an air of poise that Kithra could only dream of having, she would be the main focus that was for sure as who wouldn't want a princess as a prize? She was about to give the princess her name when the crowd parted and a rather dark and intimidating figure walked forth. Kithra shut her eyes and silently prayed to the goddess of her element for strength and resolve. She only opened her eyes when the princess mentioned that they were doing this to protect their homeland and that if they didn't they would be dragged into a war that would kill many of their people. She knew this to be true but she wished that her people were more warriors that way they wouldn't be stuck in this mess. For over two thousand years her people were stuck with giving up some of their daughters and it looked like nobles of her people weren't excluded from the Reaping. Thankfully they didn't take the next in line, even though it was insult to take royalty. So having the princess was publicly saying that the Gemminite people were the Drakkens bitch, and they could do anything to. And they could and if things broke down it would mean death. None of this bode well for the Gems as they were mockingly oppressed and could be easily defeated. If only there was a way to change things. Kithra was aken from her thoughts when princess Anna pretty much challenged the Drakken nobles. Goddess! What is she thinking!? She thought as her insides turned to jelly. Why would she do that? Does she want her sisters to get hurt in the brawl of the brutes? She felt her skin prickle as she continued to look at the ground not wishing to look up at the brutes. But she did notice that she hadn't been picked which brought a small hope to her. Maybe I will be able to go home. She hoped as she knew those not chosen would be returned to their families, though they would be most likely be brought back to this dreadful place again the next year. Tirza Things were most definately interesting as there was a female Drakken, a princess, a girl in chains and a Fire-y Gem that some how tripped her large Drakken guard. And Tirza already liked the one that tripped her guard, she kind of hoped that whoever chose her would also chose the little fire Gem. Though as she thought about she realized it would have to be the strongest willed Drakken ever, her and the little fire Gem would be a hand full. Still it would be fun, scary as hell, but fun or at least she would think so. But to her dismay the Drakken that chose the timid Gem beside her also chose the little fire Gem. "Well that sucks." She said lowly as she was disappointed that she wouldn't have the little fire Gem as her "bride sister". Though she didn't envy them as they seemed to get a stuck up and prideful Drakken war lord, who most likely thought he was biggest tough guy in the room. Though given the way the Drakkens moved out of the way for some Drakken who claimed the princess, miss timid and miss fire-y's husband was obviously not the big guy he thought he was. Not that it mattered to her, as she wasn't being claimed yet which she was okay with though she was kind wished to be. Why would she wish that? Simply put she was odd, she concluded on her ride to the castle that her father must of been a fire Gem. So she was a real oddity as the child always took the element of their parents, and if the parents were of different elements the child would take the element of the same gendered parent. So since she wasn't a water Gem she was an oddity, no wonder not many could handle her. She noticed then a Drakken noble by the window suddenly peel himself away and began to walk towards the line of Gem brides to be. She smiled when she realized that he was heading in her direction. She could see that he was very serious and but alert, and was he actually pointing at her? "No flattery my Lord?" She asked as she smiled at the large Drakken and bowed slightly. It was a mixture of mockery and respect, she knew better to out right insult a war lord. She may be an oddity but she wasn't stupid.

Booop

Lugft was about to burst at the seams with unbridled rage. Not only had Wilhelm strode in like some conquering hero and sweep the Hem princess off her feet, now she was insulting him? If he were Wilhelm Lugft would have hit her so hard she'd forget who the hell she was. In the end Lugft knew he couldn't do anything, he'd foolishly come unarmed in his rush and as far as he could tell Wilhelm was far more prepared. But Lugft would be damned if he didn't show his superiority to a fucking Gem, no matter how royal her blood was. "You know princess, for all this blustering about how weak or timid we, unworthy Drakken are it seems more than a little hypocritical" as he said this Lugft began walking down the line towards the princess, deliberately examining each bride as if they were cattle. "After all, how many generations have you Gems been our loyal lap dogs hm? Ten? 20? 30, 100? And when do you think it will stop?" Now he stood right in front of her, a terrible rage filled smile plastered on his face. "I'll tell you when, when all the Gems are dead. If you haven't noticed we are about to go to war, well war may be giving the Gems to much credit eh? Don't you boys agree?" Looking to the assembled lords to nods and loud agreements, "more of a brutal beating really, like a dog who's got a bit out of line. And you call us weak for not squabbling over you like hens?" He drew dangerously close to her with that, right in front of her, practically breathing down on her. "How important do you really think you are? You can talk of your royal blood and high bearing all you like, but you know what you are? Your a tax, a bit of currency who is in the end no greater than any of these other brides, and your new husband," gesturing to Wilhelm, "Can be rid of you whenever he may wish. YOUR nothing Gem, nothing more than another daughter, payed to keep our country, from crushing yours." with tha Lugft stepped back, gave a hearty laugh, and returned to his brides, not even letting the pup respond.

Name:Lugft Huron Race Drakken Age 213 Elements Fire Earth Height 6 feet, 8 inches Bio Born to a prominent drakken family, Lugft was originally thought to be small and weak as he grew slower than most other Drakken. But, he compensated by having possibly the shortest fuse in existence and being one hell of a fighter. A beast on the battlefield, even among Drakkens he is often seen as a brute. However, he can put on airs of grace if he must, though he is never truly civilized. He is also a fan of trophies, and his manor is bedecked with helmets, weapons and other trophies. His most prized trophies however, are his bride(s), showing them off in only the finest of anything. But, he is still far from a kind man, as he is war mongering, quick to anger, and intensely stubborn. Other Often keeps his favorite sword on his person

Zaerna Throt'oll It took a moment for the Gem to really take in Zaerna's presence. The look of confusion on the girl's face amused her and caused a low chortle to fall from her plump red lips. Her dainty almond eyes blinked rapidly, their pupils large and reflective. "I..." She hesitated, and the Drakken nodded slowly, as you would to a child, for her to continue. "Walk without some guard dragging me along behind him. I wasn't previously aware that it was considered a crime." The female Drakken responded with what started as a slight moan and evolved into lackadaisical laughter. Her hand, which had not left the girl's face, patted the mark twice just a bit too roughly. "Oh, darling, for your sake I hope you soon learn the difference between disrespect and crime, ere you experience real punishment." She dropped her hand to the girls jaw, taking it firmly and turning it side to side. "Yes... Very nice. What is your name, young one? And what can you offer me?" She stepped back, intending to give her a moment to think her response through. She looked up and down the line again, ignoring the way the bare-chested barbarian tried to intimated the Princess Gem. She had been paying little attention, for she had no interest in that pet, and because Wilhelm the Black was one man she actually respected among this group. The woman in shackles was left to her own devices a few feet away, and Zaerna leaned back to see her entire body. "You, in chains." She said directly. "Why are you shackled?" She was surprised that she actually had a few of the brides at her choice - there were few Drakken in this particular group, at least few had arrived, and Zaerna was offered more of a selection than she had anticipated. She could hold her own in duels with a good majority of these men, she was no doubt a better channeler than the them, but she was glad it wasn't turning out that way. She had wanted the one with blue hair, but she didn't want her enough to start a fight. Her boots clicked as she backed away from her first choice and closer to the woman in chains. They were not far apart, and not far from the bubbling altercation. She stood in-between her choices and the barbarian, as he did not seem far from violence despite claiming to not contest Wilhelm's choice of bride. The last thing she needed was to be stuck with damaged merchandise. She didn't heed his words to the gem; she didn't even know why he bothered spouting such hot air. He was only encouraging the pet to speak by responding. Facing the chained Gem, Zaerna caressed her cheek as she did to the last.

Zaerna Throt'oll Race: Drakken Age: 189 Element(s): Wind, Earth Height: 6'4" Bio: The large Throt'oll family is one that has managed to birth about a dozen women in the last five decades. They seem to be blessed with women, and as such they have gotten quite influential with their family ties, having married these daughters off to many different, powerful merchant and military families close to them. Zaerna herself was actually born to a Drakken mother, Since birth, Zaerna has been treated quite differently than her brethren. Although she was raised to fight and war-monger all the same, she instead was taught to focus on managing to marry the most prominent man she could, as opposed to seeking glory on the battlefield (although her service was never discouraged). Having never been too interested in doing that, Zaerna has been a constant source of aggravation for her noble family. She is a fiercely independent, hedonistic woman, who cares little for the societal norms of her home. She cares little for the opinions of others, and instead of getting angry more often gets amused. She has a terrible superiority complex, especially against her brutish kin. Throughout her youth, she was rebellious and particularly spiteful, and left for the military as soon as she could. As one of the only women of her entire division, Zaerna has spent most of her time alone. As such, she is blunt and self-sufficient. In the army, what she lacked of her brothers' strength she made up for with her elemental abilities. She wields a family heirloom warmace named Mother's Kiss. She has recently returned from a distant operation which warranted her a wife. Other: N/A

Atallia Faeron Well that was... unexpected. The last thing she wanted was some snide bastard who took advantage of women - she knew that even in Drakken society, that was deplorable. She wanted a great warrior so that she could teach him a lesson or two about taking slaves from her homeland! Like that warrior that had apparently claimed the Princess; he looked imposing and she could just tell that he must have been strong considering how the others somehow lost their appetite when it came to the Princess. More pressing, however, was the sick hunger in the eyes of the man that had claimed her. It was clear that he was pissed off and he would probably take great pleasure in making sure that her rebellious side was dampened. Talli was just about to bite back at him when the Princess launched into her speech about how they should hold their peace. Protectors? Did they hit you with a rock when you were a child you fool of a girl? The Drakken were not protectors. They were the lesser of two evils. If she thought that Talli was going to even think about bowing down to these pigs then she was wrong. Clearing her throat a little, she looked towards the man who had claimed her. "We're not yours. We're not objects for your viewing pleasure. And for your information, there'll be plenty of others who will try and get me." She didn't even know if she wanted someone else to claim her though - the only reason they would do that was because of Talli's mannerisms so they would certainly not contest for the feeble looking girl next to her. She couldn't leave her to this sicko - he'd hurt her in the worst sort of way after losing two girls. No, she had to remain there and help her Sister. Leaning in, she shook her head a little and offered the girl a proud smile. "Don't worry about it. I can handle some Drakken idiot who thinks he has a smidge of power. Don't do anything stupid, ok?" Rynek Darion The large doors to the ballroom swung open, the guards manning them looking a tad bit nervous as they stood to attention. Outriders had only arrived five minutes previous to inform the garrison that the Prince was on his way, wishing to join the celebrations. Their nervousness was understandable, the Prince was known to be brutal enough but rumours had spread that he had fallen into a state of madness whist he was warring. All rumours, of course - all he did was burn down a village or two when they wouldn't give him the information he required. Rynek had specifically requested not to be introduced, he wanted to see if his loyal brothers would recognise him after five long years. He had changed since then - there was a new fire in his eyes that probably contributed to the madness rumours but he had also gained a memorabilia which was currently clasped to his sword belt. Despite being a little weathered, the firm, golden crown of the King of the Southern kingdoms had been removed from its previous owner (whose head was back with his men). He liked the old thing - it betrayed his true identity from the grey riding leathers. It seemed that the guest of honour drew a lot more attention than the stranger at the door as most focused on her as she challenged the other lords to fight Wilheim. Smiling softly, Rynek idly rambled to the edge of the balcony and leaned onto the banister, casting his eyes down over the crowds before scanning over the little group of Gems. There wasn't an awful lot of them but it was a good harvest - there was already two or three he wouldn't mind having a go on. "It seems that the Princess knows the game but not the pieces." His tone was light as he descended the staircase but the entire room silenced anyhow, their heads turning to the stranger who had decided to interrupt. He wasn't clothed in finery and his hood hid most of his features so he forgave them for not recognising him yet. "You know, when you become vassals of peace, don't try and have an understanding of war, little one. That man there is Wilheim the Black - the finest killer in all the land and I assure you, everyone who stands in his way will die. Maybe except for one or two but you get the gist of it." He had been slowly walking towards the Princess who had already turned to him. Taking a small detour, Rynek moved along the line of Gems and somehow kept his hands off the mostly frightened looking girls. "You're beautiful, Princess, but sometimes men's heads are bigger than their balls. These sorry buggers know that crossing old Willy will only result in death and they fear death. You fear death. This little bunch of Gems also fear death. Willy don't fear death though and neither do I. In answer to your question, we protect your homeland so we can have fun little encounters like this! I'm pretty sure most of these gentlemen couldn't pay whores to do what they have planned for you lot." With that, he stopped speaking and turned to inspect the remaining Gems, still not exactly disclosing who he was. Wilheim would know though - there was only one idiot who had the guts to call him Willy and that was Rynek Darion.

Atallia ("Talli") Faeron Race: Gemminite Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'2" Bio: If you believed that most if not all Gemminites were naught but some peace-loving, air-headed fools then Atallia is the living argument against that. Born in the north to the Faeron clan, she was taught from a young age that living under the boot of the Drakken was a nefarious business - they could either remain passive and wait until the boot stomped down or they could push back. Her family were one of the few in the whole nation that argued for the latter. After losing a sister to the Drakken, her father imbued within her that the continuation of the Drakken's very existence was a mockery to the Earth. Despite those rather serious lessons and the pressures of raising a daughter who was very clearly beautiful, her parents were good to her and gave her freedom to explore the world around her. It could have been the fire flowing through her but it seemed that from the outset, she was a flighty little thing with no regards for danger or rules. It landed her in more trouble than it was worth but she had quite a bit of fun annoying neighbours and numerous townsfolk. As she grew, Atallia didn't really change. Granted, she garnered a bit more attention from the males --a harsh curse that she remained unaware of-- and although she was a little more likely to wear a dress, you could almost always expect her to be causing a ruckus. Her ascent to womanhood was grateful, at best, but instead of just echoing the dying embers of rebellion, she became a soaring ember - something that the Gemminites could stand behind. Quick-witted and armed with a tongue sharp enough to draw blood, very little people could hold up an argument against her. Like a roaring flame, she was unpredictable and answered to no one. No one, that is, until the Drakken guards came calling. Talli had heard the stories like any Gemminite child of how the Drakken came and took their brides from the beautiful swathes of Gemminite youth. She had heard the stories of the Huron families and how girls suffered a life of abuse that was only ceased upon pregnancy. And the Zagmars, who became known as the "Defilers" for the fact that their brides went through horrors of catastrophic levels and more often than not, bucked under the pressure. Naturally, she didn't credit herself with much in terms of beauty but she was enough to warrant being chosen to become a bride. Strangely, as she was taken, she didn't fight or argue - this was an opportunity for her. Her intent was abnormal. She was going to show her people that they should not fear the Drakkens; she was going to have them hesitate the next time they picked their wives and there was no way in Hell she was going to destroy some light-hearted fellow. She would find the best of them and tear him a new one. Other: Atallia has a tattoo of a dragon upon her left shoulder. The origins of said tattoo will probably be explained IC. Her eyes are a gold colour but they've been known to light to a powerful red when she's particularly angry. Isn't the strongest in terms of magic but has enough cunning and tactical genius to use it where it counts. She's not suicidal either - she'll pick her battles.

Xrin Kiajer Xrin raised an eyebrow at her at the young Gem. She was actually much more confident than he himself expected, which was unusually refreshing. He glanced at the rest of the the brides, he couldn't help but smile, they were in a dilemma, much worse than what the his bride was in. There was Lught, who was a savage with his brides. Why he came back for more when he did not make his last, made him look greedy. Xrin wondered if he was just greedy, as if he was simply hungry for a woman to kill, they killed whole city's within a few hours, he was greedy indeed. "Aye, no need for all that, why must I waste my time flattering you when you have no choice but to come with me." He said chuckling. The mockery, Xrin assumed was just her testing her boundaries. He would rather have a competent, self reliant woman that a broken, extra dependent woman. As long as she did not push it to much or to far, she would live up until she hit her prime, and then he would get another bride. Xrin eyes suddenly turned to Lught, it was if he could smell his anger. He then began to rant, most of his argument was just rage fueled banter. Most of what he said were simple threats that he would have most likely gone through with. Xrin could not help but raise his eyebrow when he heard of what he planed to do to the princess. He wondered why she did not just give up, stop arguing, standing up uselessly when she was in the land of her enemies was futile. He couldn't help but pity her, but he couldn't help but fell excited also, Lught and Wilhelm would have most likely fought over her. Xrin glanced at the Drakken, he new the man as Rynek. His speech do not matter or apply to Xrin much. But out of respect Xrin still placed his hand on his chest and bowed. The man was the price of all of the Drakken nation, he deserved the respect.

Xrin Kiajer Race: Drakken Age: 374 Element(s): Wind Water Height: 6'5" Bio: Xrin, just like other beings like him, was born to kill, to create chaos, to participate on an never ending cycle of death. There may have been those who wished to end this, but Xrin was not on of these people. He was a born killer, but he was not without his quirks. His father raised him to be merciful and reasonable, to use his brain. This stuck with Xrin up to adulthood, were he put it in practice. In this area of his personality, he is looked down upon, but his combat ability, gives his brothers enough reason to over look it. He shows reasonableness when dealing with others, including his bride, but that doesn't mean he won't take action when they show disrespect. Other: (N/A...yet)

Lugft smiled at the new comer, largely ignoring the Fiery Gem past a quick glare. He had a sinking feeling he could guess who it was, with his arrival time and calling Wilhelm "Willy". Very few people could get close to Wilhelm, but he did know the one person who had done exactly that. For, although Lugft was indeed a brute with simple tastes, at least compared to the complex luxuries others enjoyed, he wasn't dumb. If anything he was no doubt the most intelligent of the Huron family sons, as he had learned quickly that dumb muscle was either dead muscle or subservient muscle. And he was pretty sure he could guess who it was, and he wanted to be the one to let everyone know. "You should listen to him princess, after all he is royalty just like you. The second greatest duelist within the Kingdom of Drakka, and just returned from a war I wasn't invited to. Meet the noble Prince Rynek Darion." Lugft gave a rather sarcastic bow before again drawing up to his full height, "And like he said, dueling Wilhelm is suicide for most, and certain death if your not armed, and seeing as I am not fighting him would be like fighting a dragon with all your arms and legs broken"

Name:Lugft Huron Race Drakken Age 213 Elements Fire Earth Height 6 feet, 8 inches Bio Born to a prominent drakken family, Lugft was originally thought to be small and weak as he grew slower than most other Drakken. But, he compensated by having possibly the shortest fuse in existence and being one hell of a fighter. A beast on the battlefield, even among Drakkens he is often seen as a brute. However, he can put on airs of grace if he must, though he is never truly civilized. He is also a fan of trophies, and his manor is bedecked with helmets, weapons and other trophies. His most prized trophies however, are his bride(s), showing them off in only the finest of anything. But, he is still far from a kind man, as he is war mongering, quick to anger, and intensely stubborn. Other Often keeps his favorite sword on his person

Kasari grimaced through the tinge of pain that ran through her cheek as the Drakken woman patted the slightly bruising skin. She kept her breathing even to keep herself calm, knowing a temper would do nothing for her situation. Instead of answering the woman's statement about learning, Kasari merely nodded silently, mindful of the consequences of an incorrect answer. "Yes... Very nice. What is your name, young one? And what can you offer me?" That was another thing she hadn't expected. Of course she knew that the Drakken would inspect each of the Gem bride candidates in full to be certain of their decisions, but she didn't think they'd outright ask what they thought they could offer. The woman stepped back, giving her a moment to think through her answer, an opportunity she gladly took advantage of. "Kasari Liesma. I can offer a warm dwelling, quick learning and some entertainment of the elemental kind." She decided to leave out the portions that she wasn't particularly skilled at. If she was useless, she'd be discarded or given to a Drakken who'd only use her for mating purposes. Kasari awaited patiently, if not a bit anxiously, for the woman's reaction, hands clasping and unclasping behind her back.

Kasari ("Ari") Liesma Race: Gemminite Age: 19 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'8" Bio: Full of life and brimming with energy, Kasari's family is known for their bold personalities and the fire running through their veins. As a family of more lively folk, Kasari grew up surrounded by laughter and warm hugs, a sentiment they were always willing to extend to the community around them. Sometimes too bold for their own good, work for the fire elementals was difficult but never dull. Even Kasari worked alongside her father and older brother, up until the day the guards came for her. Kasari might be peaceful by nature, but even a contained flame is still bright. Other: Kasari is quite attached to a pet lizard she had found in the garden as a child.

Tirza It was kind of surprising that she could nearly shock or surprise two Drakken's in one day. Let's see how far I can get. She thought as she smiled at the male that had claimed her, before he went on about how he didn't need to flatter her since she had no choice but to comply. Which was true but that didn't stop her pouting at the Drakken. "Oh thats a shame, as I was looking forward to be wined and dined." She said as she slowly smiled, her tone was a polite one as she didn't want to push too hard. Though she knew that she was pushing, though obviously not as hard as the princess. For being royalty you would think she would push a little more lightly, considering she could get more than a Drakken killed. If anyone of these brutes decided to blow up they would not care about who happened to get in the way. Her attention was suddenly taken away from the princess, female Drakken, the big bear chest Drakken, her claimer and the creepy dude that claimed the princess, to a rather intimidating Drakken who had an air of arrogance about him. She listened as he basically put the princess in her "place", though she had a feeling that wasn't going to stop the princess from voice her opinion again. Why Wilhelm was being so passive with her was beyond her, anyother Drakken would of slapped her silly by now. Drakken's were simple, yet complicated creatures. That was when the large naked chest Drakken basically introduced the newcomer as the prince of Drakka, now this was a surprise. When the prince looked in her direction she winked at him. She could see that he might make a go for the princess. This caused Tirza to suddenly laugh, not too loudly but loud enough for people to know that one of the Gem brides were laughing. "Oh this is precious!" She suddenly blurted out as she watched, if no one saw this coming they were blind or dumb. "He would make a go at her, he would go for royalty." She said with a slight giggle, oh she knew she was pushing it now but she couldn't help herself. Kithra I'm not going to be picked! I'm not getting picked! I can go home! Kithra thought as she watched as the other girls were claimed and being shown more interest than her. The hope that she was feeling was nearly overwhelming, as she would be able to go home to her sisters and parents and live in peace once again. She wouldn't have to worry about upsetting a Drakken lord and she wouldn't have to worry about her body being taken back home and her family seeing the horror she had to endure. She actually had great hope of seeing her homeland again. She suddenly envisioned the green hills, the trees, meadows filled with wild flowers and her being able to marry a gentle and handsome Gem man. She could see it all and it brought a smile to her face, she would finally be happy. But that was dashed when she heard the voice of a late comer, she was the last to be claimed. Goddess no! Please no! She thought as she opened her eyes slowly to see a rather large Drakken make his way towards them. But he was talking to the princess about the Drakken that had claimed her and how no one in their right minds would challenge him. Though Kithra could hear that there might be a "but" in there. That was when she heard one of the Gem girls further down the line laugh and call out what was going to happen. Goddess she is insane. She thought as she looked at the Prince and back down the line. When the Prince went to look at those left she knew she was pretty much the only one. She lifted her chin slightly to show that even though she was scared she would stay strong. That was true courage. Something she was sure that none of the Drakken people could possibly understand. She used her element to draw a little strength as she felt like she needed it. She felt the warmth of the earth and the smell of cut grass work its way around her. She felt her fear fade slightly but not leave completely. "I am strong." she whispered to herself lowly. (for both)

Booop

Sophia Ravencaller Sophia was amused by the actions of the princess. That girl knew what she was doing. Her words stroked the prides of the Drakken and almost brought them to blows. If nothing else, it stirred a flame in the hearts that made them think about taking her. She might no longer have status but she wielded herself like a weapon. Sophia would have to remember this as a weapon to be used later. Sophia's thoughts were derailed when a drakken approached her. The drakken was a female much to her surprise. Sophia mood immediately turned from admiration of her princess to hatred of the female Drakken. This horned woman could not be seriously considering her for a bride. At least, with a man Sophia could find some pleasure, but a woman was another story. Why would a woman want with her? Sophia knew she would be a trophy wife but with a woman she would be nothing more than a glorified pet. "You, in chains." The female drakken said directly to Sophia. "Why are you shackled?" Sophia was unsure how to respond especially after the female touched her face so affectionately. Disgust rose in Sophia and anger sharpened her wits. Sophia smiled darkly to the female before her. Almost laughing, Sophia responded, "Do you know what a well-placed fire-laced steel arrow will do to your kind, My lady? Your people bleed as beautifully as my own. I am in chains because your people were arrogant enough to think themselves gods. I merely committed a blasphemy by proving them otherwise." Sophia pause for dramatic effect, "I would gladly spill my blood for a chance to see the beauty of yours, Madam." Sophia did not want to be claimed by this drakken female but she could not predict what effect her words would have on her.

Sophia Ravencaller Race: Gemminites Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5 foot 4 inches Bio: Sophia was born to a long line of fire elementals. Her family owned acres of lands in which they worked and had enough wealth to survive if crops failed for a season or two. They grew more than wheat and corn, they grew grapes for wine and tobacco for cash. Sophia grew up on the property and grew very accustomed to being outdoors. She developed a passion for horse riding and archery from a young age. When the Darrken Nobles came to claim Sophia as a bride, Her most of her family refused. Sophia however surrendered to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed and to protect her family. Other: (input here)

Aery sighed. “I doubt my sense of self-preservation will let me be stupid,” she told the Fire girl. “But you? You’re the one who should be careful. We can’t win. We just can’t. Maybe it’s better to go without fighting, at least without being visibly defiant.” A tear dripped down her cheek and she angrily scrubbed it away. She forced a trembling smile onto her face, looking up at the slightly taller girl. “I hope you get someone who respects your courage, and not this… brute.” She felt good for saying it, though she knew she’d probably pay for the remark later. And just thinking about that retribution made all the blood drain from her face and what felt to be a Gordian knot tangling itself in her stomach. And as far as what I want for myself? Well, I don’t even know that much. I just want to live, but I don’t suppose I even deserve to do that. I’m just a coward and a weakling and I can’t even try to stand up to these monsters like my sisters. I don’t deserve to live, not when my people are fighting back and all I can do is cower and tremble. Her knees buckled and she stumbled, catching herself before she could fall. Tears were pouring down her face again and she couldn’t cease the flow; she tucked her face to her chest, letting her long dark blonde hair fall forward and hide her shameful emotions from her sisters. Her thin shoulders trembled but she did not make a sound; that much, at least, she could choke back to not shame her sisters further. and

Name:Lugft Huron Race Drakken Age 213 Elements Fire Earth Height 6 feet, 8 inches Bio Born to a prominent drakken family, Lugft was originally thought to be small and weak as he grew slower than most other Drakken. But, he compensated by having possibly the shortest fuse in existence and being one hell of a fighter. A beast on the battlefield, even among Drakkens he is often seen as a brute. However, he can put on airs of grace if he must, though he is never truly civilized. He is also a fan of trophies, and his manor is bedecked with helmets, weapons and other trophies. His most prized trophies however, are his bride(s), showing them off in only the finest of anything. But, he is still far from a kind man, as he is war mongering, quick to anger, and intensely stubborn. Other Often keeps his favorite sword on his person

Zaerna Throt'oll The female Drakken waited, eerily patiently, for the Gem in front of her face to finish. Her hand never left her face, and when she was done, it gently slid down her cheek. Her gauntlet-covered fingers traced the other's delicate jawline, her thumb grazing the other's smiling lips. Her finger made it to her chin and down her throat, where she promptly took a firm hold of the girl's slender neck in her much larger hand. At the same time, Zaerna flushed the air from around her head, taking away vital oxygen. The Drakken flexed her fist around the girl's throat to stop any resistance. Utilizing her superior strength, she forced the young Gem down to her knees before her. Still, she smiled easily, keeping her head slightly cocked and her face incredibly unperturbed. With a graceful motion, she raised her other hand and whipped it backhandedly across the girl's face. There was no yelling, no grandiose showing. This was no display, merely discipline. "Do you know, insolent brat, what I can do to your body and mind using my bare hands?" She raised her hand and struck her again, this time letting go of her neck just before the impact so the blow would knock her on the floor. As she tried to recover, the Drakken stepped slowly to her torso and kicked her sharply, as many times as she needed, until the Gem was prone enough for the Drakken to press on her neck with her boot. "And where does that leave you, hmm?" She cooed, seemingly sympathetically, to the girl on the ground. "Under my boot." She twisted her foot, "You will see much blood with my, child, do not fret." With a final press against the girl's throat, Zaerna backed away. "This one is mine." She said in a resolute voice to no one in particular. Leaving the girl to get up on her own, Zaerna clasped her hands in front of her and stepped toward her first choice. Her face was still congenial and welcoming, to a degree, but before she could respond, a familiar figure walked through the door. Having such a wide array of family marriages, which was not that common in Drakken culture, Zaerna knew many well-known figures and nobles to a some-what personal degree. She recognised the Prince as soon as he came within 100 paces of her, and when he finally was close enough, the female turned away from the Gem. She placed a fist over her heart and bowed as deeply as she needed. She knew that one husband of some distant aunt of hers was actually close to the crown, though she could not recall the relation. She made sure to show him proper respect before she went back to her first choice, who had introduced herself as Kasari. "Kasari... My, what a nice flow that has. I like you, much more than that useless waif." She said softly, nodding to her. She took the Gem's hand softly, giving her a slight, although irrefutably mocking, bow. "I believe I'll take the both of you." She said, reaching forward and brushing a lock of hair from the Gem's face. Zaerna pulled back, satisfied that she had made her decision. Her two were different in many ways, and she was looking forward to breaking them into what she wanted. The woman looked around, letting her cape fall off her shoulder, revealing her mace in an unapparent way. None of the others showed interest in her choices, although she was still prepared to defend them. "I have decided."

Zaerna Throt'oll Race: Drakken Age: 189 Element(s): Wind, Earth Height: 6'4" Bio: The large Throt'oll family is one that has managed to birth about a dozen women in the last five decades. They seem to be blessed with women, and as such they have gotten quite influential with their family ties, having married these daughters off to many different, powerful merchant and military families close to them. Zaerna herself was actually born to a Drakken mother, Since birth, Zaerna has been treated quite differently than her brethren. Although she was raised to fight and war-monger all the same, she instead was taught to focus on managing to marry the most prominent man she could, as opposed to seeking glory on the battlefield (although her service was never discouraged). Having never been too interested in doing that, Zaerna has been a constant source of aggravation for her noble family. She is a fiercely independent, hedonistic woman, who cares little for the societal norms of her home. She cares little for the opinions of others, and instead of getting angry more often gets amused. She has a terrible superiority complex, especially against her brutish kin. Throughout her youth, she was rebellious and particularly spiteful, and left for the military as soon as she could. As one of the only women of her entire division, Zaerna has spent most of her time alone. As such, she is blunt and self-sufficient. In the army, what she lacked of her brothers' strength she made up for with her elemental abilities. She wields a family heirloom warmace named Mother's Kiss. She has recently returned from a distant operation which warranted her a wife. Other: N/A

Kasari listened with horror as the only shackled Gem ran her mouth at the female Drakken, whose name she was unsure of. The Gemminite people were considered intelligent, but were overall peaceful in nature. To hear such violent remarks from one of her kind, element aside, came as quite a shock. Based off of what she heard from the girl, Kasari assumed that she was connected with the element Fire, a fact that made her even more nervous. If they chained up one fire Gem, they might take precautions and chain the rest, and that certainly would not end well for her. Tolerant of many things, Kasari had a few of immobility, and having her arms and legs shackled would more than certainly give rise to uncontrollable panic. For the first time since she had arrived, Kasari witnessed the true aggression of the Drakken against one of her fellow sisters. Brutal to say the least, Kasari's eyes widened with concern, glued to the girl who had been struck to the floor. Several times she wanted to cry out, to pull the attention away from the Gem, no matter how reckless she had been with her words. Ashamed of her cowardice, Kasari turned her gaze away and stared at the floor by her feet. The display didn't quite scare Kasari, her fear had all but evaporated by that point, instead she was left with a determination. A fire burned within her willing her to continue on, to survive where so many others had fallen. She would not allow her emotions to get the better of her, she would do her duty to her family, as the Princess had said to them before. Kasari snapped her attention to the Drakken who had returned to the space before her. She nodded to show her respect for the Drakken's power, exhaling slowly as the woman stepped back and announced her claim. Slowly, Kasari let her eyes wander to the girl who had been beaten just moments before. "Are you okay?" It was a stupid question, of course she wasn't going to be okay, but she didn't know what else to ask in the situation.

Kasari ("Ari") Liesma Race: Gemminite Age: 19 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'8" Bio: Full of life and brimming with energy, Kasari's family is known for their bold personalities and the fire running through their veins. As a family of more lively folk, Kasari grew up surrounded by laughter and warm hugs, a sentiment they were always willing to extend to the community around them. Sometimes too bold for their own good, work for the fire elementals was difficult but never dull. Even Kasari worked alongside her father and older brother, up until the day the guards came for her. Kasari might be peaceful by nature, but even a contained flame is still bright. Other: Kasari is quite attached to a pet lizard she had found in the garden as a child.

Sophia Ravencaller Sophia did not move while the Drakken moved her hand down her cheek. When the drakken gripped her neck, panic ran though her. She made no attempt to resist because she was trying hard to show her panic. Sophia did not fail to notice that it was not the drakken hand choking her but the drakken's ability to manipulate air. Sophia did not resist the female drakken intent, She fell to her knees. The smack from the female Drakken broke Sophia's concentration and thoughts. The second strike made Sophia land on the floor. She wanted to remain on the ground, but pride made her try to stand again. That plan was until the Drakken pinned her and kicked her. Sophia lost any will to resist. She did not want to be with this female. Why did the men not protest? The species produced far to many men. Why would they allow a female to take potential brides when she could not mate with them? When the female Draken finally let up of Sophia and formally declared ownership, Sophia just wanted to die. To lay on the floor until this waking dream ended. It never would and every action made it worse. Lies, honesty, strength, and silence all made the situation worse. She was going to be a bride to a female. She was nothing more than a toy for the drakken to use and break. Sophia felt useless, worthless, and powerless. Sophia finally mustered the strength to stand. She corrected herself and stood as straight and proudly as she could. The other bride that the female Drakken had claimed spoke to her. Sophia believe she overheard the bride call herself Kasari. Sophia really did not want to grace the stupidity of Kasari's question with an answer. She remained silent and scanned the crowd of Drakken nobles once more. Really? No male wanted her. They were content with letting a female take not one but two brides from them. She guessed that Drakken did not suffer from the cardinal instinct as she had come to observe. It was not that Sophia was trying to get laid in bed, but really?

Sophia Ravencaller Race: Gemminites Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5 foot 4 inches Bio: Sophia was born to a long line of fire elementals. Her family owned acres of lands in which they worked and had enough wealth to survive if crops failed for a season or two. They grew more than wheat and corn, they grew grapes for wine and tobacco for cash. Sophia grew up on the property and grew very accustomed to being outdoors. She developed a passion for horse riding and archery from a young age. When the Darrken Nobles came to claim Sophia as a bride, Her most of her family refused. Sophia however surrendered to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed and to protect her family. Other: (input here)

They were envious of him. Wilhelm could sense it, could smell it in the air and feel it on his back as a multitude of Drakken glared at him. They were angry. Enraged, some of them. The younger ones, he knew, would direct their hatred at him. They would blame him for taking their prize, curse his name and form and line for slighting them in such a manner, place all responsibility as far removed from themselves as was conceivable. A foolish error of youth. Perhaps some who had reached their age would also harbor such fallacies. But the wise and the knowledgeable... they would be angry for a different reason. A superior reason. They would direct their wrath toward themselves, bring plagues upon their own houses for their hesitation, their cowardice, both for not seizing the opportunity to claim the Gem Princess for themselves and for failing to rise up and challenge him. But this came as little surprise. What did arrest Wilhelm's attention, however, was the string of words that the Princess declared to the room. She had detected the wrath that had risen toward him, and within mere moments had sought to turn it to her advantage. She was a shrewd one, to say the least. And shrewdness was something Wilhelm the Black found admirable. For her gesture, Annayeva IV only earned a sharper, more wicked grin from her newly appointed lord husband. His eyes, colored a red so deep it could be mistaken for black, seemed to be partially illuminated with amusement and a sadistic delight. His instincts had never failed him, and here the fruits of their labor was shown. The girl would make for a splendid wife. For the moment, however, it seemed one Drakken seemed to want to rise to the occasion of her words. While Lugft was making every attempt to show himself as stately and under control, and by and large succeeding, his words still rang with barbaric hostility. Wilhelm's smile vanished at his remarks, slung toward the Princess as though she had deeply wounded him. To be so easily riled was a shame on the House of Huron, made only moreso by the man's great strength and prowess in combat. Strength of body and weakness of mind made for a disastrous combination, the elder Drakken thought to himself. Almost on cue there came the sound of another Drakken entering the verbal fray. A white-haired boy who was not half Wilhelm's own age was descending the stairs. The Lord of the Ebon Cliffs did not need to hear the nickname to know who he was. The swagger with which he walked, as though trying to reflect the candlelight in the hilt of his sword from every possible angle, was evidence enough. Wilhelm knew that arrogance intimately; it had been far worse before he had beaten some of it out of Rynek. And much like Lugft Huron, the Prince took up berating and belittling the Princess and her ploy. It was a farce, every line of it. And Wilhelm the Black was as far from laughing as could be. "Silence." His word came over the air like a whisper, yet it echoed from the stones as though shouted in a canyon. "If either of you wishes to challenge me to combat for my bride," he continued as his hand came to rest on the hilt of his blade, "Then stake your contest. If not, then step away." Once more, hesitation and cowardice reigned in the hall as rage turned to apprehension and fear of what might come. Lugft would fold easily enough, he presumed; had he sought to challenge him, he would have done so rather than rail against the Princess. And Raynik... Raynik knew better than to face Wilhelm and his mastery of air and flame in an enclosed space and still recovering from the sting of war. This was why Wilhelm the Black was considered the strongest Drakken. It was not because of some superior physical ability or abnormal power, but because of his conviction; he did not doubt, he did not hesitate, he did not fear. The sharpness of his physical sword paled in comparison to the bladed edge of his sheer presence and force of will, both of which could bisect a man far faster than any metal. Almost all of his duels had been won with these weapons, his opponents felled before they even drew steel. As other gems drew the attention of the Drakken, Wilhelm turned his head about the hall again. He had chosen his bride, that much was certain, but his instincts called to him for something else. Off to one side, alone after the choosing, stood a single Gem who seemed to be drawing small amounts of power and sturdiness from the ground. Though she lacked the Princess' grace and regal bearing, she still stood with her own form of resoluteness. Intrigued, Wilhelm beckoned to her. "You there. Gem of the Earth. Come to me. Let me see you in finer detail." When he had examined her, Wilhelm smiled again. "Very good. I shall claim you as well. But not as a Bride. No... I would have you as an attendant to my wives. A servant to them, to care for them as I dictate. But you shall hear more of this as we journey to my estate. For now, I would know your names."

All credit for the above image goes to Genzoman (whose artist signature I was forced to crop out on account of potential content rules) Wilhelm the Black Race: Drakken Age: 387 years Element(s): Fire & Air Height: 6'7" Bio: Few Drakken are as respected or feared as Wilhelm the Black. The rumors about him are every bit as wide and as varied among his own people as they are in the horror stories told about him across the land, but nobody knows what is true and what is not. Wilhelm does not allow anybody entrance to his domain save her servants, all of whom have somehow lost their ability to speak except to him. What is known for certain is that he is terrible to behold in battle, that he moves like liquid smoke, and swiftly dispatches any who cross him. Some whisper that he could depose the Drakken King with startling ease, if he so chose, but Wilhelm himself dismisses such mutterings as folly. And once dismissed, such things are never brought before him again; it is well known that Wilhelm does not tolerate slants against himself or his household in any measure. What is more remarkable is that, despite his hand being heavy in any conquest, Wilhelm rarely chooses to indulge in a Bridal Selection. At any one time, he keeps a mere three wives of his own, but never less than that; when one of his three wives has died, she is replaced as soon as possible, like clockwork. Other: Wilhelm is undefeated in duels, and only one of the Drakken Princes has ever managed to land a hit on him.

Lugft had reached a new, extreme level of rage, as his knuckles turned white and his eyes filled with crimson. Wilhelm was challenging him...or rather challenging Lugft to challenge him. But he couldn't, he had no weapons no armor no... Suddenly, through the pool of rage and fear an idea bubbled to the surface of hid mind, and stewed amongst the anger in his mind. There would be a challenge, oh yes, Lugft would put forward a challenge. Slowly, Lugft walked towards Wilhelm, as if his rage was weighing down his limbs. His eyes still blood red with rage he came to stand before Wilhelm, looking not unlike a bull preparing to charge,."Wilhelm the Black, I do challenge you, but not for her, not for some royal tart, you can have her, and I do not challenge you here or now. Pick a date and a place Wilhelm, perhaps a few days hence, for here I am unarmed amd in poor preparation. Pick a spot anywhere, I don't care, make the stakes whatever you want. Give me a few days to settle my brides and prepare my blade. I will be the second man to wound you, and the first man to beat you." With the last words said with a kind of primal certainty, he began walking back to his brides, "Name the time and place now before I leave or later Wilhelm, for I am prepared to take my brides and return to my manor, assuming no one else wishes to challenge my claim to either of them?" He looked around, his fury was far past a stage of shouting, he simply spoke his words with power and conviction, as if daring someone to be foolish enough to challenge his claim.

Name:Lugft Huron Race Drakken Age 213 Elements Fire Earth Height 6 feet, 8 inches Bio Born to a prominent drakken family, Lugft was originally thought to be small and weak as he grew slower than most other Drakken. But, he compensated by having possibly the shortest fuse in existence and being one hell of a fighter. A beast on the battlefield, even among Drakkens he is often seen as a brute. However, he can put on airs of grace if he must, though he is never truly civilized. He is also a fan of trophies, and his manor is bedecked with helmets, weapons and other trophies. His most prized trophies however, are his bride(s), showing them off in only the finest of anything. But, he is still far from a kind man, as he is war mongering, quick to anger, and intensely stubborn. Other Often keeps his favorite sword on his person

Ama felt the hands of the guard on her wrists, pushing her along. She could feel her stomach churning uncomfortably, the thought of the unknown she was meant to face here. She was late to arrive, that much she knew. She'd wasted as much time as she could talking to the driver before the guards finally got tired of it and grabbed her rather forcefully. Maybe... Maybe no one would want her. She tried desperately to suppress her glow as much as she could bare, as it sort of hurt to force it away like this. As she was pushed along, her thoughts returned to the faces of her family, her mother crying, her brothers' blank stares, the absence of her father. Knowing him, he was out in the field. Anyone else would have called him cruel and emotionless but being the Gemminite man that he was, he didn't want to fight anyone. And she was sure that if he'd watched her leave, something within him would have risen up to fight the men taking her. She understood his reasons for not seeing her off. She'd had her moment with him anyway, at the lake. Without saying goodbye, they'd said their goodbye's. Her father was never one for showing his emotions. She smiled at the thought of his awkward gestures that day, the way he tried so hard to avoid the topic, to pretend as if nothing were going to happen to her. As so she looked as she entered the room, a small smile held on her pale lips, soft brown hair framing her sharp blue eyes. However, the smile soon faded as she felt the tension in the room. The light in her eyes flickered for just a moment as her heart jumped and her knees began to shake once again. She felt the guard cut her binds and then push her into the room, falling to her knees rather harshly. It took her a moment, but she gathered her strength and took a shaking step to stand up straight. It took her a moment with her nerves rattling her so to stand up fully, but she did so. And once she was up, she steeled herself, putting on her mask. Her pale lips sat, unmoving, on her pale face. The only lively part of her now was the glow in her eyes, the one part of herself she could never control. IF she could, she would make herself disappear but for now, she simply took strength from where she could, from the ground, from the dust in the air, and from the memories held within her heart. Swallowing, she put the image of her favorite flower in her mind. It was a weed, but then so was she. A weed that grew in any soil or no soil at all, a sturdy flower that could survive any storm. She was that flower now, standing atop a boulder, planting herself firmly, steeling herself for what would come. Maybe... Maybe no one would want her. Surely. The words of her mother suddenly returned to her, as she scanned the room. "You aren't very pretty, maybe they will not want you and send you back..." She'd always hated her looks but for once... Ama prayed it so. Ama prayed so hard that she feared she might break from the effort.

Amaryllis "Ama" Stone Race: Gemminite Age: 18 Element(s): Earth Height: 5'7" Bio: Growing up a rather normal life, Ama has been around a gardening and farming family, having two Earth elemental parents. She has a fondness for animals and plants and she will defend them to the teeth. There was once a time when she beat a boy her age for picking her prized sunflower and handing it to her as a present. She detests violence but is more than strong-willed enough to take whatever life throws at her. As a younger sister with three older brothers, Ama has had her fair share of beatings, though they were done out of love and were never out of cruelty, her brothers just simply loved to tease her, not realizing how much they were actually hurting her. It was until her mother found out that the boys realized what they'd been doing wrong. Since then, Ama has grown accustumed to taking hits, never being one to back down. Since the moment with the boy, however, she has yet to raise a hand against another person, having been sorely scolded by her mother. Now, Ama finds her legs shaking at the thought of being given to an unknown man. However, though her legs buckle, her eyes are full of life, staring ahead with a strong will about them, blue eyes staring daggers into any willing to stare back. Other: Alternative Image (Not Glowing) Ama is not considered very pretty when not glowing, so many of the people around her wondered why she was chosen. Maybe it was a fluke?

Annaveya Elizabeth Ranizov IV - The Price of Royalty Theme~ Still held close to the menacing looking Drakken, the Princess continued to slowly sway as if caught by a summer breeze. A light, playing smile curved across her lips as she sensed the storm from her taunting words brewing, infesting the minds of those that surrounded her and striking the core of their savage minds. All the while, her slender fingertips slowly rose to caress the tensed strength of the neck the one who held her. For this moment, this vicious looking man seemed to own her. It did not take long for others to lash out at her. She knew all too well that such cruel words were going to arrive swiftly and rashly. First came in a vengeful noble who simply sought to try and whip her with words, and though her fingertips slipped away from Wilhelm, she did not react to his words. Such a satisfaction he would not possess as she remained calm in the eye of his storm. As swiftly as he had come he retreated, and the hint of a coy smirk alighted her lips. Obviously, the barrel-chested one was attuned for bloody battles, not a battle of wits; less he wouldn't have fled so quickly from the center of the floor. However, a surprise came in the form of a princely form finally arriving to the tension filled scene. Nervous guards parted as she stood rigidly. However, what she saw was the raw arrogance that she expected those of Drakken Royal blood. He came to stand before her, and her fingertips dipped into the silken fabric of her Gemminite dress as she respectfully bowed. One royal to another, a shrewd princess to an arrogant prince. Much like how he had walked, casual arrogance came forward from his words. Taunting her first, only to then explain who Wilhelm was; as if she didn't already know. Slowly, surely, her work behind all that she had said was beginning to settle and worm into the minds of others. She could sense it, as even now there was little more than hateful gaze from many Nobles towards the fearfully strong Wilhelm. He had taken their prize, their Princess. Taunting even her homeland, the Princess did not falter nor fade from the regality she so nobly held. Perhaps she stood even straighter, she was no fool, nor was her Father or Mother. If the Drakkens did truly attack, there would be more than what met the eye to them. Even the barbaric fool had spat at her about how it would be like taking candy from a child, if he only knew what would tribulations would lay ahead of him in this instance. Gemminites were physically weaker, as well as weaker in elements. This was known, however cunning was their strength. That would allow them a way to a more clever war, a plan she had talked with her Father about in the instance hell decided to descend upon them all. A war of attrition would be fought. It would be long, bloody, and costly on both sides. However, Gemminites and their populace outnumbered those of the Drakken by almost eight to one. In a grim thought, her people had far more resources to cast upon the altar of sacrifice. Far more than that of their overlords. With this strategy, even against the greater enemies of the world, the Gemminite Kingdom could very well become the graveyard of Empires. Oh how little they knew. An underestimation of their enemy could very well be a fatal one. Gemminites had known fear and hopelessness for thousands of years, but even then there was a subtle strength growing in the land. She had sensed it, but for now, she would not wield it. Finally however, the tranquil Wilhelm spoke and the Princess slowly turned to face the man who apparently was her future husband to be. He silenced the fools who had tried in all their belligerence to try and make the enigmatic Princess falter, and they failed. Even still, she had not uttered a single word, she didn't need to. Their pandering attempts to justify themselves and their arrogance bore enough embarrassment to her. Before everyone, a Prince and a Noble had attempted to belittle her, and their words crashed in vain against the beautifully enigmatic poise that she possessed. Just like the words she had spoken before, Annaveya would not bend nor break to their sadistic and cruel whims. A mewling quim she was not, she was one of Gemminite Royal Blood, and she embodied the very symbolism of it her family's rightful throne. She watched the mulling crowds as they mulled the choice of attacking Wilhelm for her hand, before her as she watched them all they all faltered. Every single one failed to even attempt to find the strength and courage required to stand before the infamous Noble. It was weakness she sensed, a lack of resolve created by thousands of years of complacency and decadence as conquering heroes; and like a fine knife, the Princess would find a way to cut into it. However now was not the time, as finally one stepped forward. It was the barrel-chested one. The very same one who had berated her only moments ago. She watched him carefully, noting his savage hunger for conflict. This one was going to be the easiest to manipulate and twist, and she would twist him accordingly as he finished his challenge as Wilhelm had begun to inspect, and claim another Gem. This time as a servant or warden. The Princess would seize this opportunity to poke a needle into the Huron's inflated sense of self. "Why not challenge my Husband-to-be now, brave Lord Huron? Or are you unable to proficiently act without your sword in your hands? I weep for your claimed then, a shame, perhaps even a joy to be taken by one so useless to a woman. Why not challenge him to unarmed combat? Or are you so unskilled as to fall on the field of battle unless you possess a weapon?" Her words would sting so venomously, and she knew it even as she put them so coolly, calmly akin to a clear wintry morning. Even better, angered discontent rippled through the masses as she even declared that Wilhelm was subtly hers in a way; just as much as he now owned her. A scandalous, hedonistic thought that was, the thought that a Gem actually considered herself an equal. How easy it was to create a divide between the Nobles about something that should have seemed to trivial to them. If this was how Drakken society was, how easy would it be for her to create divides and conflict during matters which were grave?

Princess Annaveya IV Race: Gem Age: 18 Element(s): Water Height: 5'4" Bio: The King of the Gemminites has had many children in his lifetime, but none quite like Annaveya. She is his the fourth daughter of his highness, and so beautiful was she that she was given the name of his grandmother. Like others of royal blood, she was raised in culture, music, song, and lastly a brilliant education. She developed a keen wit, and had a strong sense for the intrigues of politics and the weight that rulers bore upon the people. What she didn't know was that she was destined to bear a similarly horrible weight of her own. On her eighteenth birthday, the day that she would at last be considered an adult by her people, tall armored men stormed the celebration. In a show of ruthless power, the Drakken Noble's court had decided that she would join the bridal candidacy. Whether her mother and father liked it or not, she was to be wed away and taken off to a far away; likely to never be seen again. The carriage rattled and rumbled along the dirt road to her destination, to an unknown and miserable future. It felt as if she were little more than simply property for the ruling Drakken parties, a token of peace in an imbalanced society. Once she arrived however, she found that war had been declared. Not only was she doomed to be a future bride to a likely very barbaric husband, she was also now a hostage at best. Before any more blood was spilled, she desperately needed to find a way to end the war. Other: (input here)

Five years of bloody war had the power to change a man and Rynek had not earned a scrap of mercy. He was no longer just a warrior that guarded the honour of his brother. He was a general, a leader, a man that should never be crossed. The Princess did just that though and for that, he lusted for the bitch, primarily because he wanted to see just how she would twist her words when he took her for the first time. If war had taught him anything, though, it was that if you followed your desires and lusts, you would only get yourself killed. Lusting after some Gem beauty wasn't included in his instincts - that was only reserved for killing. Wilhelm chose a poor time to issue a silence, however, as it was mainly just directed at Lugft as Rynek had already falling silent. He was busy inspected the Gems that were lined before him and just as one caught his attention, she was dragged away by Wilhelm. Now he was just being greedy. For the most part, he ignored the introduction that Lugft so graciously provided but dragged his hood away to allow the nobles to see that he was precisely who he was said to be. The white hair of the Darion's was an easily-identifiable feature of theirs. When the Princess bowed, he returned the gesture with a firm fist to his chest and a bow of his head - she knew how to play the game so he respected her for that much. He allowed Lugft to speak and he even allowed the Gem Princess to retort. Ryken drew his blade, dragging it along the fine marble of the floor to create an ear-piercing yowl. Once all were silenced, he sheathed his blade. These men were bred to kill so they probably didn't even see her plot - she was creating discord between the Drakken nobility. The reasoning was lost to him but he had no intention of allowing her to continue. But how does one beat an enemy that hides behind her eloquence like it's a wall, thick and high? His mind navigated back to one of the first offensives in the war he was only returning from. The enemy had walled themselves within a castle with enough provisions to last them two years. His army would be broken on those walls if he tried to siege it and waiting two years was not an option. So he split his army into four and scattered them through the country with a single instruction - scar the land so deep that when they come crawling from their hole, they would find only ruin. And so they did: every farm was torched along with whole villages. Their women were raped and slaughtered, their children were left to burn and their men were crucified so as to ward off any others. They burnt whole forests and poisoned lakes. And when his enemy finally left their castle, they found their kingdom in ashes with nothing to rule over. This was how he made war. How would he beat her in this little game of theirs? He would render her irrelevant and he would remind her of her helplessness. Her assumptions had carried her further than he would have guessed but she made her final mistake in crossing the Bloody Prince. "Aye, I'll fight you Wilhelm. Not for your bride though, you can take her home and fuck her to your heart's content; the Gods know that no other man deserves such a prize as a tight little princess. No, dear friend, I want the Earth Gem." His hand clasped the hilt of his sheathed blade as he looked over to the girl in question and lit up a soft smirk. His eyes told swathes of his plans for her and none of them were overly gentle. He didn't lust for this girl - he had targeted her because he knew the Princess' type. Selfless, a lady of the people. If the Earth Gem became his, the Princess would have been viewed as getting off relatively easy. Plus, now that the Princess was out of the picture, her relevance would fade away. No longer were the people angry at Wilhelm - that was forgotten. They wanted to see just how much the Prince would be trounced. The fight itself didn't look balanced in his favour whatsoever - his armour consisted of some measly riding leathers and compared to Wilhelm, the Prince looked to be tired after such a long time away from home. If they hadn't thought him insane previously, they were sure now.

Atallia ("Talli") Faeron Race: Gemminite Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'2" Bio: If you believed that most if not all Gemminites were naught but some peace-loving, air-headed fools then Atallia is the living argument against that. Born in the north to the Faeron clan, she was taught from a young age that living under the boot of the Drakken was a nefarious business - they could either remain passive and wait until the boot stomped down or they could push back. Her family were one of the few in the whole nation that argued for the latter. After losing a sister to the Drakken, her father imbued within her that the continuation of the Drakken's very existence was a mockery to the Earth. Despite those rather serious lessons and the pressures of raising a daughter who was very clearly beautiful, her parents were good to her and gave her freedom to explore the world around her. It could have been the fire flowing through her but it seemed that from the outset, she was a flighty little thing with no regards for danger or rules. It landed her in more trouble than it was worth but she had quite a bit of fun annoying neighbours and numerous townsfolk. As she grew, Atallia didn't really change. Granted, she garnered a bit more attention from the males --a harsh curse that she remained unaware of-- and although she was a little more likely to wear a dress, you could almost always expect her to be causing a ruckus. Her ascent to womanhood was grateful, at best, but instead of just echoing the dying embers of rebellion, she became a soaring ember - something that the Gemminites could stand behind. Quick-witted and armed with a tongue sharp enough to draw blood, very little people could hold up an argument against her. Like a roaring flame, she was unpredictable and answered to no one. No one, that is, until the Drakken guards came calling. Talli had heard the stories like any Gemminite child of how the Drakken came and took their brides from the beautiful swathes of Gemminite youth. She had heard the stories of the Huron families and how girls suffered a life of abuse that was only ceased upon pregnancy. And the Zagmars, who became known as the "Defilers" for the fact that their brides went through horrors of catastrophic levels and more often than not, bucked under the pressure. Naturally, she didn't credit herself with much in terms of beauty but she was enough to warrant being chosen to become a bride. Strangely, as she was taken, she didn't fight or argue - this was an opportunity for her. Her intent was abnormal. She was going to show her people that they should not fear the Drakkens; she was going to have them hesitate the next time they picked their wives and there was no way in Hell she was going to destroy some light-hearted fellow. She would find the best of them and tear him a new one. Other: Atallia has a tattoo of a dragon upon her left shoulder. The origins of said tattoo will probably be explained IC. Her eyes are a gold colour but they've been known to light to a powerful red when she's particularly angry. Isn't the strongest in terms of magic but has enough cunning and tactical genius to use it where it counts. She's not suicidal either - she'll pick her battles.

Berlin was grateful to have been able to bathe before being taken to meet her possibly new husband. She knew she would be the oldest of the potential brides there. She had been fortunate to avoid the Drakkens for as log as she had by hiding in the hills. She knew one day she would be found, but hoped it would be when she was past the age for an appropriate bride to be. As she ran the brush through her long golden blonde waves she paid no attention to the male guards who stared at her body in the revealing green dress behind her. The silk against her skin was an odd feeling to Berlin, as she was use to dressing in rags to work in the garden under the unforgiving sun for many hours at a time. The only thing the dress she wore hid was the most intimate places and her long lean legs as long as she stood still. When she walked the high slits up the sides of the dress even revealed her legs. Berlin presumed that due to her age she was forced to show more skin to make up for being older than the other Gems. "Okay, enough primping. You are already late because we had to drive so long to find your hidden home. You better be worth the trouble you put us through," The larger of the male Drakken guards spoke as he wrapped his hand around her left bicep. With a single pull from the strong arm of the guard Berlin was on her feet. She did not respond to the guard- she didn't even look at him as he drug her along at a hurried pace. Berlin walked along side the guard until she was shoved forward into the large ballroom of the Drakken castle. It seemed as though she walked in on the middle of an argument over a Gem female. Her eyes looked the men over calmly before the guards at her back pointed for her to join the line of female Gems. Berlin looked around the ballroom, getting lost in the details that ran along the walls. She distanced the possibility of being claimed by a brute school as the ones in front of her from her mind by daydreaming about showing her family a castle as large as this. A soft smile pulled at the corner of her shimmering pink lips as she kept her head facing away from the Drakkens. Deep inside of her Berlin was terrified, but the only thing she could do was make the best of the situation she was placed in. She did not sob or beg, she did not challenge anyone- she simply hummed a soft lullaby in a faint tone as she imagined dancing to a slow melody on the large ballroom floor.

Berlin Greymere Race: Gemminites Age: Twenty-One Element(s): Earth Height: 5'7" Bio: Berlin'a family stayed hidden in the valleys of the Gemminite territory. They learned to be self-sufficient and only went to the marketplace to sell any surplus of supplies they had after accounting for each family member. Living off the land came easy for Berlin as she could use her gift in her favor. Her parents instilled in her and her four older siblings that they could handle anything with bravery and patience. Being the youngest of the family of six outspoken Gemminites taught Berlin to be silent and listen. She has maintained that lesson and to this day does not speak often unless she is spoken to. She hold her head high, and refuses to show weakness. When the guards appeared at her doorstep she kissed her mother's cheek and bid her family farewell before willingly following them. She wasn't a fighter and never would place a hand on someone out of anger. She never spoke a word on her travel away from her home- even as the men asked her questions she simply answered with a 'yes' or 'no'. Other: Empty at the moment..

As much as Lugft hated the princess and her snide remark, he hated Wilhelm far more. It would be quite interesting to see Wilhelm duel his own royal protégé, but Lugft still needed a way to vent his anger. Then, as if the gods wished to answer his every prayer, Xrin Kiajer was eying the younger of his two brides "If you Wang her Xrin you have to go through me, so do you challenge me?" At first it seemed foolish for Lugft to egg Xrin into a challenge, seeing as Lugft had no weapons or armor and Xrin had both. But, Xrin was not as prepared to fight as Lugft new, and that would be Lugft's advantage. As Xrin nodded, before he could even draw Lugft cracked him square in the face, loudly breaking the smaller Drakken's nose. As he stumbled back, Lugft pounced at him like an enraged bear, smashing him again in the face, a blow sending him sprawling to the floor. Then, before he could get up, Lugft fell upon him and began driving his fists into Xrin's face. Savagely, Lugft just kept hitting, harder and faster, letting out all his rage with each time his fist drove Xrin's head into the floor. It didn't take long for Xrin to stop moving, but Lugft just kept punching, until all his rage had left him. By the end of it, Xrin was virtually unrecognizable, his face turned into a bloody mess. Before Lugft got up, he checked Xrin for a pulse, and began laughing maniacally as he stood up, with Xrin's helmet in his hand. "Xrin Kiager is dead by my hand, killed in a challenge for one if my brides. In the old ways I am now entitled to his claimed bride," gesturing to the blue haired and rebellious one. Walking over to his three brides he smiled, and looked to all 3 of his brides, still sprayed with the blood of Xrin, "I'm so sorry, I've been terribly rude, what are your names?"

Name:Lugft Huron Race Drakken Age 213 Elements Fire Earth Height 6 feet, 8 inches Bio Born to a prominent drakken family, Lugft was originally thought to be small and weak as he grew slower than most other Drakken. But, he compensated by having possibly the shortest fuse in existence and being one hell of a fighter. A beast on the battlefield, even among Drakkens he is often seen as a brute. However, he can put on airs of grace if he must, though he is never truly civilized. He is also a fan of trophies, and his manor is bedecked with helmets, weapons and other trophies. His most prized trophies however, are his bride(s), showing them off in only the finest of anything. But, he is still far from a kind man, as he is war mongering, quick to anger, and intensely stubborn. Other Often keeps his favorite sword on his person

Kithra This whole thing was ready to blow and that much Kithra knew, she finished drawing strength from the earth and she took comfort in it, when she suddenly heard the the female Drakken talk to the girls that were a little down the line. She turned to see what was going on and she suddenly wished that she didn't. Her mouth dropped as she watched as the female Drakken began to beat one of her sisters with cool air about her. She was suddenly reminded of the ease of how a Drakken can move into a mode of violence. She looked away as she didn't wish to watch, and she cursed herself for being weak and not having a back bone to stop the female Drakken. Don't be crazy she would do far worse to you! She thought though it didn't help her from feeling guilty. She shut her eyes and wished that she was invisible and just when she wished that she heard the voice of Wilhelm the Black call her. She felt her insides tighten and her body suddenly go into a panic, though she made sure that she didn't show it. She raised her head before taking a few steps forward and standing infront of the Drakken that called her. He made a movement with his finger for her to spin around so he could get a better look at her. She did as he commanded, all the time she felt like she might break down and cry but she kept those feeling deep inside. She would not let those emotions out, not infront of these brutes anyway. Kithra nodded slowly when Wilhelm said that he would claim her, but not as a wife. Though she didn't like the smile he gave her, a small relief came over her as she would be serving only his brides/wives, so she would be serving the princess. That wasn't so bad, maybe she would get attention or maybe he would forget about her and she could escape and make her way back home. She knew she could trust the earth to lead her home, it was always reliable not like people. "My name is.... is Kithra, but most call be Kitty, my Lord." She said politely as she bowed a little to Wilhelm. But Kithra should of known she wouldn't get it so easy, as the prince spoke up. Goddess WHAT! She thought as she looked at the prince with slight horror as she could see in his eyes that she would go through hell if he claimed her. She knew that Wilhelm wouldn't fight overly hard for her as she was an after thought to him. He simply chose her because he wanted a toy, something that he could break while he played a little bit more nicely with the princess. She looked at Anna, her jaw clenched and her breathing shallow. She had to piss everyone off! I might of been left alone! She thought as she had seen two other Gem girls walk in. She might of just been a maid to Anna and nothing else, but no now she was going to be a toy that was going to be fought over and she didn't need the extra attention. "Your words hurt more than the Drakkens, dear Anna!" She said in a moment of high emotion of anger and fear. She knew that if the prince won her she would undoubtedly be angry at the princess, as she would of ruined what little peace she might of had. She knew that her anger at the princess and calling her by her name instead of her title would please the Drakken's. As it showed slight disrespect, though there was little that the princess could do about it as they weren't in the Gem court. But she couldn't help it, as just a moment ago she was just a maid and a moment before that she had great hopes of going home. Tirza So many surprises! This is so not boring! Tirza thought as she listened to what was happening over by the princess. And things were getting tense, if that caused tension she noticed one of the fire Gems getting beaten. She didn't hear what she said but she had a feeling that she was being too forward. From what she could gather some of the girls here were too lively, she was one of them. But she knew how to flatter and mock at the same time. She knew how to push others but in a way that they almost didn't realize that they were being pushed. But it didn't matter what she could do, it was the other girls being too forward that were getting into trouble. She didn't look at the girl that just got her ass whipped as she wouldn't want anyone looking at her if she was in her position. The creaking of the large door signaled that more were going to join them, she looked over to her right and saw two knew Gem girls. They looked nervous, which was understandable as being faced with monsters was a scary experience. She looked back at her claimer and noticed of him looking at the naked chested Drakkens brides. She went to grabbed his arm as she could tell that the other male was so close to blowing up in rage. But before she could the other Drakken took notice. "If you Want her Xrin you have to go through me, so do you challenge me?" And like a fool she watched as her claimer Xrin nodded, he was going to fight an already pissed off Drakken for a bride that he didn't need. She quickly stepped away not wanting to get in the way of the brutes. She watched as the naked chest Drakken over took Xrin so easily, and how the other male was sent into a blood frenzy. He wasn't fighting to first blood, he was fighting to the death. It was such a shock that she actually covered her mouth with both hands, as being a Gem you NEVER such violence, let alone death. To make it worse the large male didn't stop once Xrin stopped moving. Gods, he is dead! Why doesn't he stop?! She thought in horror. Once the "fight" was over she was once again surprised when the brute who won said that she was now his. She looked up at him while she slowly lowering her hands from her mouth, "Well.... Shit." She said before swallowing and slowly smiling. She was shocked yes, but she wasn't bound to the last guy so she was sort of okay. "Politeness now my lord?" She asked as she looked at the dead body that was now getting cleaned up by the guards. "I'm Tirza or Tears or what ever you wish to all me..... my lord." She added as she looked up at the large Drakken and smirking before winking again. She suddenly realized that she would be a bride sister to the fire Gem that she wanted to be sister bride to. So it wasn't too bad, plus she was going to be a sister bride with another air Gem. So this should be okay, or it could be hell as the Drakken now had enough Brides to impregnate or kill.

Booop

Zaerna Throt'oll The female Drakken's display went largely unnoticed by the others in the room. For that, she was not surprised, but grateful. She was sure every man in the room was more than familiar discipline, and as the situations on the other side of the room escalated, Zaerna was more than glad to be left out of it. She had already pushed her Father's nerves by coming to accept a bride; the last thing she needed was to annoy a man as powerful as Wilhelm or as prominent as the Prince. The female readjusted her cloak, trying her best to survey the situation and not make sure there was no attention drawn to her own brides. Demure and chaste, but not extraordinary, her brides were exactly what she needed them to be. She had no desire for the hand of the Royal Gem because not only wasit obvious what kind of attention she would draw, but also because Zaerna needed no rat in her ear trying to ferret its way into her political pursuits. In few words, she sent one man into a fury and two more to duel. No, Zaerna needed mindless, dolled-up accessories, not a pathetic former-royal who thought itself on the Drakken's level. The fiery one needed some time in the dungeon, of course, but her spirit was not nearly as strong as Zaerna's whip. Watching the men start to challenge each other out of pride and lust, the female realized she was the only Drakken to not cause a scene. The brides, most of them, cowered frightfully from the display, but the smart ones were realizing the ferocious Drakkens were barely more than arrogant dogs snarling over butcher scraps. The Princess stood on even feet, and as much as Zaerna wished for someone slap countenance of ease she displayed, she gave the Gem no more than a passing glance. The female wanted the Prince to challenge Wilhelm, if only because the Gem would break much faster under the younger man's more violent nature. Slowly, she returned to her second choice, and herded her with sharp gestures to her new sister bride. She moved them off to the side, away from danger, but not enough that the other men had trouble seeing them. She was well aware not all choices had been made. After Wilhelm claimed the last remaining bride, Zaerna noticed that there were no more available, and that her hasty actions might have been too much so. As one of the youngest and least known nobles in the room, she would not be surprised if one challenged her just for the ease of it. But as she began to worry, two new brides joined the rest, and she was more confident that she would be left alone. She had chosen brides that were ordinary for a different reason, but the fact that they weren't really worth the competition was a nice benefit. She had already decided that, if needed, she would release the spitfire, but now was thinking that she wouldn't have to. Zaerna was no coward, but she felt no desire to give the Gems the satisfaction of thinking they had so much worth that they caused dissention between Drakkens. Leaving the men to their debates, secretly hoping they would go at it just for the chance to see such a magnificent display, the female turned again to her brides, but kept Wilhelm in her peripherals. With a sugary smile, she addressed the woman still chained. "Now, beloved, let's try this again. What's your name? And, were I you, I'd take a hint from your new sister and answer politely. You don't want to earn any more time in my dungeon then you have already." She ended with a coquettish wink.

Zaerna Throt'oll Race: Drakken Age: 189 Element(s): Wind, Earth Height: 6'4" Bio: The large Throt'oll family is one that has managed to birth about a dozen women in the last five decades. They seem to be blessed with women, and as such they have gotten quite influential with their family ties, having married these daughters off to many different, powerful merchant and military families close to them. Zaerna herself was actually born to a Drakken mother, Since birth, Zaerna has been treated quite differently than her brethren. Although she was raised to fight and war-monger all the same, she instead was taught to focus on managing to marry the most prominent man she could, as opposed to seeking glory on the battlefield (although her service was never discouraged). Having never been too interested in doing that, Zaerna has been a constant source of aggravation for her noble family. She is a fiercely independent, hedonistic woman, who cares little for the societal norms of her home. She cares little for the opinions of others, and instead of getting angry more often gets amused. She has a terrible superiority complex, especially against her brutish kin. Throughout her youth, she was rebellious and particularly spiteful, and left for the military as soon as she could. As one of the only women of her entire division, Zaerna has spent most of her time alone. As such, she is blunt and self-sufficient. In the army, what she lacked of her brothers' strength she made up for with her elemental abilities. She wields a family heirloom warmace named Mother's Kiss. She has recently returned from a distant operation which warranted her a wife. Other: N/A

Sophia Ravencaller No one even noticed. Not a single Drakken. Sophia had been beaten in front of everyone in the room and no one noticed. When the female drakken came back to her, Sophia got cold. Much colder than her skimpy outfit made her. She was chilled right down into her soul. She did not want to be taken by this female. Any Drakken male would have been preferable, even if he tortured and physically broke her. Sophia almost wanted to conjure a flame to protect herself from this woman, but she knew it was pointless. If this Drakken was a wind user like she suspected, her flames were a joke. A bad one at that. When the female Drakken asked her name, Sophia did not have the will to refuse the question. She answered calmly, "I am Sophia, Formerly of the house of Ravencaller, my lady." Short, simple and sweet. Sophia did not exaggerate or embellish. Sophia was silent staring back into the eyes of the Drakken that would be her... husband, wife, whatever title. It sickened Sophia to think what possessed this Drakken to go against the norms of her people. What purpose would Sophia serve in the house of this woman? A doll in chains, a maid, or entertainment for her male guests.

Sophia Ravencaller Race: Gemminites Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5 foot 4 inches Bio: Sophia was born to a long line of fire elementals. Her family owned acres of lands in which they worked and had enough wealth to survive if crops failed for a season or two. They grew more than wheat and corn, they grew grapes for wine and tobacco for cash. Sophia grew up on the property and grew very accustomed to being outdoors. She developed a passion for horse riding and archery from a young age. When the Darrken Nobles came to claim Sophia as a bride, Her most of her family refused. Sophia however surrendered to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed and to protect her family. Other: (input here)

Lienna The long ride to Shadow Worth began for Lienna in a sleigh, trudging through the near-constant snowstorms of her northern home, minutes stretching into snow-blind hours as she tried to calm her fits of tears. Of course she cried, it was healthier than letting the water build up inside; for a dam will only last as long as its supports, and when released, the ensuing flood is far worse than the trickle of the former stream. Minutes stretched to silent hours, and by the time Lienna was transferred under guard from the sleigh to the carriage, her tears had all but stopped flowing. In fact, she managed to fall asleep on the way, clutching her little ivory statue in a white-knocked grip, like a single lifeline in the sea. Her arrival at Shadow Worth was likely the last; the further distance and storms must have delayed their journey quite a bit. As such, her Drakkn guards ushered her in with urgency, half-dragging the girl to her dressing room and commanding that she hurry. She'd trembled for most of her rushed dressing period, and when she had stripped to step into her bath, the touch of her skin brought a thin sheet of ice across the surface of the water. She bathed and dressed quickly, trying to ignore the ravenous stares of her captors. The dress provided felt alien to her, the light fabric and exposing design a stark contrast to the fur-lined winter trousers and coat she was used to. She felt horribly exposed in the glorified silk handkerchief, and with no shoes other than fur and leather boots, she was forced into the ballroom barefoot. The one silver lining Lienna could see was that she wasn't being paraded to the Drakken lords naked, as she'd heard in horror stories. Yet forced the still was, and into a situation she couldn't have explained if she tried. Numerous Gem girls were already claimed, it seemed, and one Drakken man lay seemingly dead. Three were challenging each other, and a Drakken woman, of all things, had corralled two Gem girls into a corner. For a moment, the shock froze her; the next, she tried to retreat into the corridor outside the ballroom. Much to her dismay, her efforts were only met with impossibly powerful Drakken hands leading her to her place in line. One of her escorts' hands lingered a little too long and a little too low, and she could have sworn he sniffed her hair. Her skin crawled and her gut twisted, but she stood her ground, forcing a calm to wash over herself. Water always finds a way, she repeated in her mind, Water always finds a way. And so she stood, back straight and chin up, tears gleaming like ice in her eyes but yet unshed, discreetly turning her little ivory owl in her hands and hoping no one would notice it as she waited to be inspected like a prized fish in a market. Goosebumps spread across her skin - whether from cold or embarrassment, it was impossible to tell. Still, even with her anchor and her mantra, panic swelled like the churning of a volatile sea. She pushed it down inside her, knowing that this was not the time or place to let loose a flood of emotion. Instead, she replaced the fear wth an amount of determination. She would get through this. For her mother, for everyone in her country that relied on her and her sisters to keep the peace, take the blows for them. She had no choice. (This has been edited)

Lienna Orhhneaht Note: Her hair is much longer and hangs in gentle waves, her eyes are a striking violet and her hair is white all the way through, with no dark ends. Even her eyelashes are white. Race: Gem Age: 18 Element(s): Water Height: 5'4 Bio: Lienna was born to a poor single mother outside a Gem village in the far North. From the get-go Lienna was taught to be self-reliant, not out of necessity but out of her mother’s need to have a child who could fare well on her own. Looking back, Lienna figures that her mother probably saw the Reaping coming, and predicted that Lienna may be chosen. She loved her daughter with all her might, however, and did her best to teach her how to be strong. “A strong woman makes choices to improve her life, no matter what those choices may be,” she’d always said, “A strong woman will never give up, not even when all hope is lost and everything is dark and broken.” But perhaps the most resounding of her mother's lessons was this: "Water always finds a way." This became a mantra for Lienna as she faced life’s natural challenges, but never did she truly understand what those words meant until the Reaping. On the day she was taken, Lienna shared tearful goodbyes with her mother, and while she loathed the idea of becoming a bride to a monster, her mother convinced her to go willingly. Lienna obeyed, knowing that it would be easier on her just to cooperate. However, her mother did leave her one remnant of home; into Lienna’s hands she thrust a tiny ivory statue of an owl, with shining amethyst eyes. Other: Lienna’s preferred use of her elemental magic is freezing water into ice, she is very intelligent but can barely read due to lack of formal education, (her mother taught her in other ways) and her white hair/skin and purple eyes are due to albinism, making her look quite odd but still quite attractive nonetheless.

Wow, I did not believe I would be a witness to a slaughter this quickly.. Berlin looked down upon the lifless body as the male Drakken. She hoped for his sake he would recover a proper burial- even is he was a Drakken scum looking for a Gem bride to take. She watched guards take the body away before directing her eyes toward the victor jus as he yelled out his success throughout the crowd of Drakkens and Gem brides. A smirk pulled at the corners of her pink lips an she let out an audible laugh- Why do all Drakkens feel the need to declare their victory to the heavens? Could not everyone under his voice see the lifeless body and the helmet the victor held in his hands? Such need to feel powerful and dominant can cause a victor to become defeated. There was no pride in taking a life- not even a Drakken's life- just to claim more Gems for himself. She was entertained, nonetheless, by the sudden outburst of rage the man had displayed. Berlin considered herself sheltered. The hills and valleys of Gemmenite land had kept her eyes innocent and pure. She had never watched the life draining from a body- until now that is. She had a feeling that this was what her life would become- standing here like a pet waiting on its master. Berlin let her gaze fall from the male Drakken whom now spoke to his brides. Her eyes settled upon a female Drakken. A female Drakken? What will she use her brides for? Surely the female could find more willing maids than Gem females. Berline watched the fem take away her claimed brides from the two large Drakken males who were challenging each other over a single Gem bride. Did not all brides serve the same purpose? A slave to bind to the Drakken's home so they may impregnate or take their anger out upon? Berlin continued to watch the female Drakken until she could make out he words the rolled off her lips. The Gem she was speaking directly to appeared to be in a handful of trouble as Berlin watched the female Drakken's lips from the word Dungeon. She hoped the Gem bride was strong-willed. Berlin had never seen the inside of any place but her little home in the hills and the marketplace in the town, but her grandfather spoke stories of how the Drakkens ruthlessly tortured their brides until the Gems give up the fight and let their life slip away. Berlin shook her head- What a waste of beauty and strength to keep a Gemmenite chained to a Drakken like an exotic bird in a cage.

Berlin Greymere Race: Gemminites Age: Twenty-One Element(s): Earth Height: 5'7" Bio: Berlin'a family stayed hidden in the valleys of the Gemminite territory. They learned to be self-sufficient and only went to the marketplace to sell any surplus of supplies they had after accounting for each family member. Living off the land came easy for Berlin as she could use her gift in her favor. Her parents instilled in her and her four older siblings that they could handle anything with bravery and patience. Being the youngest of the family of six outspoken Gemminites taught Berlin to be silent and listen. She has maintained that lesson and to this day does not speak often unless she is spoken to. She hold her head high, and refuses to show weakness. When the guards appeared at her doorstep she kissed her mother's cheek and bid her family farewell before willingly following them. She wasn't a fighter and never would place a hand on someone out of anger. She never spoke a word on her travel away from her home- even as the men asked her questions she simply answered with a 'yes' or 'no'. Other: Empty at the moment..

Dragged from her home, stripped of her pride and offered to a room of Drakken monsters... That was Kasari's unfortunate reality. She was starting to get the hang of figuring out those who stood higher on whatever twisted hierarchy they possessed, noting the way they moved around, shifts in language spouted and the more obvious bows to those in power. Even her own 'captor', as she could see the female Drakken in no other light, bowed to the entrance of another. It only furthered her curiosity as to what the female had accomplished that she was allowed to take brides just as the other man could. Through all of her confusion and feelings of helplessness, Kasari had been incredibly resilient and resisted all urges to break down or run away. But witnessing the brutal battle that ended in the death of a Drakken proved to be just a little too much for the Fire Gem. Ushered out of the way of the brawl, Kasari watched with tears streaming down her face as the Drakken's head was bashed in by his brethren. She was completely horrified, never had she seen something so nasty and cruel. Despite being of an element known for its powers of destruction, she had only ever used it to bring life and happiness to others, death in battle was not something she could readily understand. And it was all over a couple of brides and boasting rights. All Kasari wanted in those moments was to shrivel up and disappear, her mind reeling with all of the terrible possibilities for their futures. If they were willing to be that cruel to their own kind, imagine if a Gem spoke out of turn. Kasari clasped her trembling hands behind her back, blurry eyes fixed on the ground before her feet. "I hate it here. I just want to go home." She mumbled to herself, choosing to ignore some of the later arrivals that were still being paraded into the room.

Kasari ("Ari") Liesma Race: Gemminite Age: 19 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'8" Bio: Full of life and brimming with energy, Kasari's family is known for their bold personalities and the fire running through their veins. As a family of more lively folk, Kasari grew up surrounded by laughter and warm hugs, a sentiment they were always willing to extend to the community around them. Sometimes too bold for their own good, work for the fire elementals was difficult but never dull. Even Kasari worked alongside her father and older brother, up until the day the guards came for her. Kasari might be peaceful by nature, but even a contained flame is still bright. Other: Kasari is quite attached to a pet lizard she had found in the garden as a child.

Aery kept her eyes on the floor, not wanting to see the murderer who was to be her husband. Realistically, she supposed, they all were murderers. But still. Beating a fellow into the dirt over a girl? That was just… monstrous. Aery shyly glanced up at the girls who were to be her sister-wives. The fierce fire gem and the other wind girl. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad; the three of them could draw strength from each other. They could figure out how to survive whatever the man might do with them. And maybe, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he’d turn out to be nice. Aery realized the man was waiting for her name. She shook her head, not wanting to say it. But… She’d heard of other brides who’d refused to tell their names. They were given hateful ones. Aery spoke up, her quiet, high-pitched voice wavering, scarcely more than a whisper. “My name is Aerienna, Aery, of the house Silverheart, if it please my lord.” She ducked, half hiding behind the other girls. She cursed her own shyness and inability to form coherent thoughts for the terror pounding in her chest.

Atallia ("Talli") Faeron Race: Gemminite Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'2" Bio: If you believed that most if not all Gemminites were naught but some peace-loving, air-headed fools then Atallia is the living argument against that. Born in the north to the Faeron clan, she was taught from a young age that living under the boot of the Drakken was a nefarious business - they could either remain passive and wait until the boot stomped down or they could push back. Her family were one of the few in the whole nation that argued for the latter. After losing a sister to the Drakken, her father imbued within her that the continuation of the Drakken's very existence was a mockery to the Earth. Despite those rather serious lessons and the pressures of raising a daughter who was very clearly beautiful, her parents were good to her and gave her freedom to explore the world around her. It could have been the fire flowing through her but it seemed that from the outset, she was a flighty little thing with no regards for danger or rules. It landed her in more trouble than it was worth but she had quite a bit of fun annoying neighbours and numerous townsfolk. As she grew, Atallia didn't really change. Granted, she garnered a bit more attention from the males --a harsh curse that she remained unaware of-- and although she was a little more likely to wear a dress, you could almost always expect her to be causing a ruckus. Her ascent to womanhood was grateful, at best, but instead of just echoing the dying embers of rebellion, she became a soaring ember - something that the Gemminites could stand behind. Quick-witted and armed with a tongue sharp enough to draw blood, very little people could hold up an argument against her. Like a roaring flame, she was unpredictable and answered to no one. No one, that is, until the Drakken guards came calling. Talli had heard the stories like any Gemminite child of how the Drakken came and took their brides from the beautiful swathes of Gemminite youth. She had heard the stories of the Huron families and how girls suffered a life of abuse that was only ceased upon pregnancy. And the Zagmars, who became known as the "Defilers" for the fact that their brides went through horrors of catastrophic levels and more often than not, bucked under the pressure. Naturally, she didn't credit herself with much in terms of beauty but she was enough to warrant being chosen to become a bride. Strangely, as she was taken, she didn't fight or argue - this was an opportunity for her. Her intent was abnormal. She was going to show her people that they should not fear the Drakkens; she was going to have them hesitate the next time they picked their wives and there was no way in Hell she was going to destroy some light-hearted fellow. She would find the best of them and tear him a new one. Other: Atallia has a tattoo of a dragon upon her left shoulder. The origins of said tattoo will probably be explained IC. Her eyes are a gold colour but they've been known to light to a powerful red when she's particularly angry. Isn't the strongest in terms of magic but has enough cunning and tactical genius to use it where it counts. She's not suicidal either - she'll pick her battles.

Wilhelm directed his gaze toward Lugft as he declared a challenge on a future date. His eyes narrowed at the younger Drakken, throwing a temper tantrum as though he were scarcely even a century of age. And all because he was so insecure in himself that a mere Gem could goad him. It was disgraceful, really. But still, he had issued a challenge to combat, and the Right of the Duel was one of the most holy aspects of Drakken culture, with but one possibly surpassing it- the Right of Spoils to the Victor. "Very well Lugft," he said, calm and composed as ever, "One of my servants shall bear my terms to you at the proper time, when we have both concluded our... nuptials." At that moment, the Princess moved to speak again. The smirk still playing about her visage left no doubt in Wilhelm's mind that she intended to further provoke those present. At first, he had found it amusing and it had piqued his interest, but her taunting had rapidly lost its novelty as it gave more and more hotheaded nobles the gift of gall to bark and bay about him as though he had any cause to pay them mind. It would cease. Immediately. As Annayeva called her first sentence and began to finish her second, she would suddenly feel the air in her lungs fly from her, through her throat and out her lovely lips as her words dribbled to a halt in the middle of a phrase. It would feel to her as though she were being strangled by an invisible hand as she sputtered and gasped for air, but found none with which to sustain her breath. As panic surged into her eyes, she felt an icy grip fall upon her shoulder as Wilhelm's hand clenched upon it like a hawk's talon upon a hare. Little sips of oxygen began to respond to her, not enough to speak or perform any strenuous action, but enough that she would live, retain consciousness, and most importantly, listen. "That. Is. Enough." Wilhelm's voice washed over her like a nightmare, pulling all of her attention, all of her thoughts to his words. There was no anger in his tones, no resentment or wrath to be found; only the certainty that he would be heard and obeyed. "As pleasing as your voice is, my little flower, today it has caused far more trouble to hear than it warrants. In time I will... educate you in such things. But for now you will be silent, lest I address you, and then you will be quick and to the point. Is that clear?" Wilhelm chose not to wait for an answer; the look in Annayeva's eyes as they met his own was more than enough. "Excellent." A sharp glance toward Kithra told her that the same mandate applied to her, and that she would suffer the same fate should she dissent. By that point, however, Rynek had decided to surpass Lugft's own motion and challenged Wilhelm to single combat then and there. But rather than the Princess' hand, it was Kithra's fate that he wished to hold sway over. His boldness, along with his staking, were surprising enough that Wilhelm's eyebrow was raised in response. Then again, he suspected, it was likely all a facade; Rynek wanted the fight, and nothing more. Well, if it was a battle the royal brat wanted, who was Wilhelm the Black to refuse him? Song SWT wrote to, if interested: "Very well, Prince," said Wilhelm as he released the more secure of his two claims, "Draw your weapon. We fight as we have before- he who yields or is unable to battle further loses. No elements- only steel." As he issued his terms, which was every bit his right as the challenged, Wilhelm took his place several paces away from Rynek. His right hand reached across his body to rest on the hilt of his sword, but did not draw it. Instead, he waited, his hawkish eyes never leaving the Prince. "On your guard." Allowing his eyes to drag away from Kitty and admiring her form, they returned to Wilhelm. With a subtle nod, Rynek turned and whipped his cloak off, throwing it to a nearby Gem girl for safe-keeping. Another few brides had joined the line and they looked as delicious as the previous ones. At least he would still have a selection of impressive looking Gems if he lost. One white-haired girl in particular caught his attention but he was busy now - whoring came after battle. Turning, he moved into position as his right hand settled on the long hilt of his blade. His left found the sheath, gripping it tightly so that he could both draw the blade and slice if the need arose. With that, his eyes met Wilhelm's and the true battle of wills begun. This was not going to be easy. The two began to circle one another, the distance between them slowly closing as their revolutions continued. Rynek was aggressive and partially insane, but he was no fool. He would adopt the same method as Wilhelm, to wait until his opponent struck and then launch a counteroffensive. The duel was rapidly becoming a staring contest of lethal proportions, and sooner or later something would have to break. It was Wilhelm that moved first. Without any warning he bolted across the circle toward Rynek, his right hand flying from his waist toward Rynek's neck! And if there was any doubt in Rynek's mind that this was meant to be anything less than instant death, the killing intent in Wilhelm's eyes would soon absolve it. But Rynek, ever the daredevil, did not raise his own blade to block. Instead, he swayed back enough to duck and avoid the attack before drawing his own blade to strike back. It was all too late when he noticed that Wilhelm's sword was not in his right hand. Reverse gripped in his left, the black sword flew from its scabbard to lash at Rynek's face, and this time the Prince was forced to abandon his assault and block the attack, shifting his weight to dash past Wilhelm and out of his former mentor's reach. He smiled as Wilhelm's weapon, a black lacquered edge that curved like the reaper's scythe itself, found its home in the older Drakken's right hand. Rynek remembered it well; Wilhelm had them specially forged for his style of combat. It was long and sturdy enough to be able to parry any other blade without being overwhelmed by size, but the crescent shape allowed it to strike in tight spaces that a longsword could not. It was a terror to fight and a challenge to overcome. But, then, Rynek lived for a challenge. Taking his white blade in hand, the prince squared his stance and advanced with frightening speed. His weapon tore through the air with grizzly force, and even as Wilhelm moved to parry his attacks he found himself needing to shift his stance and reroute his solidarity to sweep the blows aside. More worrisome still was that Rynek only struck with the tip of his blade as he danced about at the edge of Wilhelm's reach, justifiably afraid to close in any further. If he wished to attack, he would have to come into the center of Rynek's ungodly destructive force. A feat any Drakken would hesitate to attempt. Any Drakken, that is, save Wilhelm the Black. The instant Rynek showed a slight opening, a delay of merely a second between his attacks, Wilhelm was in motion. The curved black sword came flashing forward at viciously high speeds, and each strike was swiftly followed by another. The blows did not resound with the beastly force that the prince's did, but each of them sent tremors down Rynek's sword all the same as the Drakken Lord concentrated all of his power on the tiniest point and directed it to the vitals of both sword and man. A wide swinging rebuttal forced him to back away to avoid being torn in half, and from there the circling resumed. "Your skills have improved." "And yours haven't dulled a bit." "Good." From there the battle resumed in much the same fashion. Raw strength and harnessed brutality matched against honed dexterity and weaponized cunning. Overpowering force faced with debilitating precision. A white tiger locked in combat with a black viper. Neither gave an inch to any of the other's efforts, each time repelling the opposition only to seize the initiative and press their own attack. It seemed as though the cycle would never end. But Rynek was growing visibly tired. And though Wilhelm was being equally assailed by weariness, he showed none of it; he simply stood across from his old protege, his breathing constrained to normality and his shoulders held straight and tall. As Rynek rose to his full height, he took his blade in both hands and burst forth in what could only be achieved with a forward leap, the gap between them rapidly diminishing. Sensing the oncoming blitz, Wilhelm stepped forward himself and lashed out with his own sword, targeting the single weakest point of Rynek's weapon with all the might and precision he had. When the two blade met, they stopped for but a moment as each swordsman attempted to push through his opponent's defense. But the iron will of the men proved more durable than the steel they held; after a single, final, monumental tremble across both edges, the swords broke against one another! As shards of metal flew outward from the point of the clash, both men stood aghast at the result. But Wilhelm recovered ever so slightly faster, and the back of his fist found Rynek's jaw as he struck the prince with a backhanded punch! It was not without reprisal; Rynek's fist soon nestled itself in Wilhelm's abdomen, knocking the wind from his lungs. Rynek fell back, a dull pain arching from his wrist to the base of his spine. There was only so many times a body could absorb the shock of having a blade hammer down against its own blade before it began to wear down on itself. His teeth ground together, his jaw feeling a little too tight for his liking. He could taste the iron of the blood in his mouth and knew that the rest of him probably wasn't in a good condition. What had begun with a duel until a yield had very nearly broken down into a brawl for life or death. Rynek had changed over the past few years, and Wilhelm had noticed. He could see that in the older Drakken's eyes. There was surprise there - no one had ever fallen level with him on the battlefield and if the older man was smart, Rynek thought to himself, he would begin to hesitate when it came to the prince. Granted, the Prince's blade had also shattered but he was the only man in the world to ever not lose to Wilhelm the Black. That in itself was a feat to be feared. "I suppose I owe you a new blade." Although they had previously tried to tear each other to shreds, there was a new respect that had risen between them. Rynek was tired from a war and unarmored yet he still held his own against Wilhelm. "Take the Gem whores, the both of them. My point has been proved." Wilhelm, ever composed and nonchalant, sucked in a deep, cleansing breath as he stood again and brushed the dust and metal shavings off of his overcoat. The prince had proved fearsome, that much was certain. But still he lacked restraint. If anything, he had become more of a loose cannon than before, and that was troubling. He would have to remember to keep a close watch on the princeling henceforth, he decided. "If you held no interest in the ladies, you needn't have bothered with them. I'd have faced you all the same, if your goal was to flex your muscles before the court. I may even have faced you plainly. But no matter. A battle well fought to you, my prince. Enjoy the selection that remains, I have had my fill. And, if there are no other matters to attend to, I will take my catch and be out of the way." "Kithra, Annayeva. To me, if you please." With a simple gesture of his hand, he beckoned his new wife and her new attendant to his side and leisurely made his way to the side of the room, there to watch the rest of the proceedings with the formal half interest that had grown to become him. "If you've any questions of me, I will give you leave to speak them. And them alone."

All credit for the above image goes to Genzoman (whose artist signature I was forced to crop out on account of potential content rules) Wilhelm the Black Race: Drakken Age: 387 years Element(s): Fire & Air Height: 6'7" Bio: Few Drakken are as respected or feared as Wilhelm the Black. The rumors about him are every bit as wide and as varied among his own people as they are in the horror stories told about him across the land, but nobody knows what is true and what is not. Wilhelm does not allow anybody entrance to his domain save her servants, all of whom have somehow lost their ability to speak except to him. What is known for certain is that he is terrible to behold in battle, that he moves like liquid smoke, and swiftly dispatches any who cross him. Some whisper that he could depose the Drakken King with startling ease, if he so chose, but Wilhelm himself dismisses such mutterings as folly. And once dismissed, such things are never brought before him again; it is well known that Wilhelm does not tolerate slants against himself or his household in any measure. What is more remarkable is that, despite his hand being heavy in any conquest, Wilhelm rarely chooses to indulge in a Bridal Selection. At any one time, he keeps a mere three wives of his own, but never less than that; when one of his three wives has died, she is replaced as soon as possible, like clockwork. Other: Wilhelm is undefeated in duels, and only one of the Drakken Princes has ever managed to land a hit on him.

Princess Annaveya - The Price of Royalty She was a Queen among Pawns, each of them easily infuriated, easily manipulated and brought to fervor. Marvelous it was, how easily just a few simply uttered phrases could rile up so many and infuriate even many more. It was not arrogance that had been uttered forth from her lips, but simple known truths. Facts by which enraged weakened minds and wrathful wills. They would soon learn the price they were to pay if war was to be made on Gemminite Soil. Yet the unveiling of this came at a price for her. In the midst of her little jab against Drakken egos, her breath left her. As fragile as a flower, her hand swiftly rose to lightly touch her collarbone while she collapsed to her knees. Her price for sewing the seeds of discord was pain, her lungs bit at her and ached. Barely in time her hand caught her fall as she still fell forward. Panic arose above her conscious will as she vainly tried to take in the sustenance to continue living. Never was she one for combat or strife, it had always been her weakness. Like her mother, she had an aversion to steel and harsh actions. It was always so cold, so calculatingly cruel and precise; just as precise as the chilling fingertips that dug into the softened skin of her shoulder. Once he touched her, once he took control of his beautiful flower, Anna could steal snippets of air. Even still, an insidious whisper came from him directly to her ears. It held no direct malice or anger, rather it held a stern threat to her. This Drakken that had chosen her to be his wife had proven one point by the settled calm that he possessed. This one was not easily goaded or brought to use force, of course one such as that would have chosen her to be his bride. For the first time in her life as her eyes met his, she came to know fear. For a moment as she struggled, his tight grip upon her shoulder made her flinch while she returned to a stand. A reprieve however, came in the challenge from the Prince. Young and wrathful, prideful and impulsive he seemed to be. Even in her moment of terror, the Princess still took note. Even fearful, her cognition still caught vestiges of weakness disguised as strength. Once her mind had honed upon this thought, the she regained the enigmatic poise expected of her as a Princess while she rose back to a stand. Defiantly as always her fists clenched, and she stood back while the battle took place. Meticulously she watched on while the two fought. Secretly hoping for the death of the Younger through some grave accident as the death of a Prince would certainly cause great divides in the Drakken Nobles. Never was she one to be impressed by violence, and this display left her equally nonplussed. Even when it came to a spectacular finish, the Flower watched on quietly as the terms to the end were discussed. Apparently the girl standing beside her was to remain Wilhelm's property, as well as her handmaiden. Wilhelm then beckoned for his new bride and her handmaiden to follow, and silently she followed. From the corner of her eye however, she cast a gaze to both the Prince and Lugft; it spoke of little more than a belief. A thought that she was looking down upon them both; the thought that she a Gem was of a higher, more enlightened being than those of Drakken blood. He sat, and she gracefully slid to a seat down in front of him. Not asking for permission or anything of the sort, she was sure that this Lord would forget her presence soon enough once he returned to his other wives. At least she hoped. It mattered little, the seeds of discord had been sewn. Now all she had to do was survive long enough to simply water the little sapling enough to bring it to truly root. He then questioned his two prizes if they themselves had any inquiries. For a moment, Anna was simply stunned. It was a gesture of courtesy, a sharp sudden change from the controlling measure he had forced her so painfully through just moments before. It didn't matter, what he had done before had more than proven the content of his character. This one was not above force to achieve the means to his ends, even if that force was so subtle as to steal the very air from her lungs to take away her ability to talk. He was willing to take the very thing that made her who she was, her words. This one, with all his vicious predation wished for a Princess to be his puppet. Sullenly, she would not oblige him. Stubbornly, she would not play his game of only a few words uttered from her lips like a slave to a master. If this one wanted to keep her, if he wanted to continue to have her, he would soon find that the only way to do such would be to treat her as his equal. Not as the timid puppet or nervous wreck that many of the other brides had become. It would be foolish of him to think that she wouldn't think of a way to depart if she found the means. So instead of questioning him like he wanted her to, like he had almost ordered her to, the Princess would not utter a single word. Even in spite of his show of power, her resolve hadn't faded; her resilience even greater as a result of his actions. This one was a coward who used force to get his way, rather than reason; she would not give him the satisfaction of her fear, doubt, or worries. Wilhelm would not know them, she would not tremble before him, she might now be his wife but she refuted the very idea of slavery. Instead, she paid him little heed if at all while her eyes and focus attentively remained upon the last of the claiming. There were only a few left, it would all be over soon. The eve of her wedding night was near.

Princess Annaveya IV Race: Gem Age: 18 Element(s): Water Height: 5'4" Bio: The King of the Gemminites has had many children in his lifetime, but none quite like Annaveya. She is his the fourth daughter of his highness, and so beautiful was she that she was given the name of his grandmother. Like others of royal blood, she was raised in culture, music, song, and lastly a brilliant education. She developed a keen wit, and had a strong sense for the intrigues of politics and the weight that rulers bore upon the people. What she didn't know was that she was destined to bear a similarly horrible weight of her own. On her eighteenth birthday, the day that she would at last be considered an adult by her people, tall armored men stormed the celebration. In a show of ruthless power, the Drakken Noble's court had decided that she would join the bridal candidacy. Whether her mother and father liked it or not, she was to be wed away and taken off to a far away; likely to never be seen again. The carriage rattled and rumbled along the dirt road to her destination, to an unknown and miserable future. It felt as if she were little more than simply property for the ruling Drakken parties, a token of peace in an imbalanced society. Once she arrived however, she found that war had been declared. Not only was she doomed to be a future bride to a likely very barbaric husband, she was also now a hostage at best. Before any more blood was spilled, she desperately needed to find a way to end the war. Other: (input here)

Prince Darion Rynek There was nothing better than the taste of shock in the air! Well, then again Rynek could think of a few things that tasted better and unsurprisingly, most were related to females. Nonetheless, the shock in the air was almost electric around him. His peers had expected the Prince to be pounded into submission at the least or maybe even seriously injured. What they did not expect was that he had held his own against Wilhelm the Black and earned a draw. That draw would define the whispers that would follow him for another few months. The Prince was home and he was already creating a stir. More importantly, however, was the fact that there was no whores in sight and he had yet to choose a few brides. After nearly losing his life, the urge to sate his lusts hit him hard and he'd be damned if he didn't have a woman within the hour. The remaining Gems were proving to be a rather delicious sight as well - it was quite difficult to choose. Pulling his eyes away from the Gems, he took a few regretful looks at the broken remnants of his blade before shrugging it off - he'd have another one forged and this time, he'd make sure the lousy bastards made it stronger than Wilhelm's. As Rynek slipped his cloak back on, he made his way over to the white-haired girl who had caught his attention earlier. Standing over her, he made for a rather imposing sight as he stared onwards. Blood dripped from his lip and there was a hunger in his eyes that could either serve as an aphrodisiac or a paralysis for most women. Both worked for Rynek. His hand idly drifted upwards, catching her chin and tilting it so he could examine her eyes in proper light. "Well aren't you a pretty little thing. I've never quite seen eyes like those before." The Prince, for all his barbarity, was still a Prince at heart and this girl had momentarily caught his fancy. Reaching down, he covered her hips with his hands and guided her out of the line, turning her back towards her peers. Leaning his lips to her ears, he spoke. "How about we play a little game. I want you to pick two sisters for yourself. The aim of the game is to find ones I like because if I don't like them... well, I'll have to distract myself with you and I get bored of my toys very easily if I'm forced to play with them for an extended time. I advise you don't put up a rebellious act, little one; it's not in your best interests."

Atallia ("Talli") Faeron Race: Gemminite Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'2" Bio: If you believed that most if not all Gemminites were naught but some peace-loving, air-headed fools then Atallia is the living argument against that. Born in the north to the Faeron clan, she was taught from a young age that living under the boot of the Drakken was a nefarious business - they could either remain passive and wait until the boot stomped down or they could push back. Her family were one of the few in the whole nation that argued for the latter. After losing a sister to the Drakken, her father imbued within her that the continuation of the Drakken's very existence was a mockery to the Earth. Despite those rather serious lessons and the pressures of raising a daughter who was very clearly beautiful, her parents were good to her and gave her freedom to explore the world around her. It could have been the fire flowing through her but it seemed that from the outset, she was a flighty little thing with no regards for danger or rules. It landed her in more trouble than it was worth but she had quite a bit of fun annoying neighbours and numerous townsfolk. As she grew, Atallia didn't really change. Granted, she garnered a bit more attention from the males --a harsh curse that she remained unaware of-- and although she was a little more likely to wear a dress, you could almost always expect her to be causing a ruckus. Her ascent to womanhood was grateful, at best, but instead of just echoing the dying embers of rebellion, she became a soaring ember - something that the Gemminites could stand behind. Quick-witted and armed with a tongue sharp enough to draw blood, very little people could hold up an argument against her. Like a roaring flame, she was unpredictable and answered to no one. No one, that is, until the Drakken guards came calling. Talli had heard the stories like any Gemminite child of how the Drakken came and took their brides from the beautiful swathes of Gemminite youth. She had heard the stories of the Huron families and how girls suffered a life of abuse that was only ceased upon pregnancy. And the Zagmars, who became known as the "Defilers" for the fact that their brides went through horrors of catastrophic levels and more often than not, bucked under the pressure. Naturally, she didn't credit herself with much in terms of beauty but she was enough to warrant being chosen to become a bride. Strangely, as she was taken, she didn't fight or argue - this was an opportunity for her. Her intent was abnormal. She was going to show her people that they should not fear the Drakkens; she was going to have them hesitate the next time they picked their wives and there was no way in Hell she was going to destroy some light-hearted fellow. She would find the best of them and tear him a new one. Other: Atallia has a tattoo of a dragon upon her left shoulder. The origins of said tattoo will probably be explained IC. Her eyes are a gold colour but they've been known to light to a powerful red when she's particularly angry. Isn't the strongest in terms of magic but has enough cunning and tactical genius to use it where it counts. She's not suicidal either - she'll pick her battles.

Lienna Orhhneaht So little time she’d been here, and Lienna had already seen enough to twist a likely permanent knot in her gut, dread creeping over her like an ugly frost upon a window. The idea that just this morning she’d been eating dried meat and drinking tea with her mother sounded so far-fetched as she stood rooted to her spot, watching with wide eyes as two fearsome Drakken duelled with frightening fervour. Both were masters, she could tell this much from the way they moved so smoothly, their iron-willed confidence apparent to the daftest of onlookers. It was clear to her that pitted against a different opponent, both would win without question. But watching them dance around each other, she could see a familiarity between them, a deeply rooted and mutual respect. She could barely tear her eyes away from their deadly performance, a detached calm washing over her as it provided a much-needed distraction. After a surprisingly quick bout for all that happened, both adversaries came to a draw, shattering their swords against each other. The respect Lienna had seen before surfaced again as they said their final remarks and parted, one returning to his new brides, the other, considerably worn Drakken making his way back toward the line of brides awaiting him. Or, more specifically, toward her. It had taken her a moment to realize, still stuck in her reverie after the battle. She almost didn’t notice the Drakken’s approach until he was nearly on top of her, standing well over a foot above her. All of Lienna’s dread came crashing back at once when he stopped before her, her vision swimming and balance faltering as he lifted her chin to examine her. She could have sworn that, looking into those ravenous eyes, her heart had briefly ceased beating. "Well aren't you a pretty little thing. I've never quite seen eyes like those before." All of a sudden, her heartbeat returned to her, and she was sure that the enormous Drakken could feel it rocking through her body, see it pumping against her ribs. Each beat felt as if it shook her, darkness playing on the edges of her vision with each impact. A million terrible scenarios flashed through her mind at once, and she struggled to fully latch onto the thought that in that instant, in that shortest of moments as the Drakken’s hands met her hips, she’d gone from a vibrant young water Gem to this man’s ‘wife’, his reward, his toy. Even as her new ‘husband’ guided her gently away from the line, Lienna’s mind was occupied only by the battle she’d witnessed mere moments before. What she had initially seen as impressive skill and grace with a blade immediately soured in her mind to crazed brutality and a brute strength that she could never even pretend to think she could overcome. His hands, those which had shattered a blade upon their own moments before, were much larger than hers, spanning a distance across her hips as he led her away. Absently, she placed her free hand over one of his, as if trying to confirm that he was really there. Her other hand turned her ivory figurine over and over again, a prayer to Naia repeating itself in her mind as she went. "How about we play a little game. I want you to pick two sisters for yourself. The aim of the game is to find ones I like because if I don't like them... well, I'll have to distract myself with you and I get bored of my toys very easily if I'm forced to play with them for an extended time. I advise you don't put up a rebellious act, little one; it's not in your best interests." His challenge was naught but a whisper in her ear, yet the weight it carried was astounding. Choose his other brides herself? This man truly was a monster. There was no doubt in her mind that he knew exactly what he was doing, his task no better than a blade pressed to her throat, a double-edged sword with no safe point to hold. She hadn’t a shadow of thought to defy him, for if she hadn’t already thought defying a Drakken was suicide, the recent battle only confirmed the suspicion. Not to mention that fire in his eyes, that look that craved either blood or something… else. She preferred not to think about it just yet. However, standing there, held under control of this man, Lienna willed her strength to return. Water always found a way. When it crashed into an obstacle, it stopped only a moment before seeking another course. She knew, deep down, that she needed to take the same action. The path of least resistance. This was her life now, she couldn’t change that; all she could do was try to find the best possible outcome. Silently, she nodded, and gently stepped forward, not daring to stray too far. Her eyes shone with tears, but they were old; none more came to replace them, and soon they would dry as well. This was not the time for weeping, this was the time for action, and the most important decision she’d likely ever had to face before. There were only a few brides left to choose from, and she’d seen the way her claimer had looked at them, surveying down the line as if he’d have a go at all of them. Looking just as he had, Lienna saw a few that he would be likely to enjoy, but as she looked, one caught her eye. It was a taller girl than she by at least a few inches, with soft brown hair and blue eyes set into a canvas of sun-kissed, freckled skin. She wasn’t as beautiful as the rest of the girls in the line, that was certain, but Lienna saw a natural beauty in her, an inner strength. She looked like a girl who was focusing almost entirely on holding herself together, and doing a decent job. Suddenly, Lienna’s strategy became clear to herself - she would find the best possible outcome, for all involved. She looked up into the girl’s eyes, but only for a moment, a conflict of emotion storming in her own. Then, turning her face away, she raised her free hand to point the girl out, eyes tightly closed as guilt wracked her, plans be damned. There was no easy way out of this, and she knew that promises and apologies were futile; she would undoubtedly be met with resentment from her new sisters all the same. Her pointing hand trembled, but only for a second, and Lienna willed with all her might for her body to stabilize. Collapsing in guilt and fear would get her nowhere, and she forced it down for now. With a look toward her captor, she made sure he saw her choice before moving along. She passed over two brides, who’s faces washed with relief as she continued, the girls whispering to each other in low, shaken voices. It was only a few steps until Lienna came to a stop before another bride, a tall girl with long golden hair. Although she was beautiful, it was obvious that she was older than the rest, visibly so. Still, Lienna made her decision, and this time she did not look away, rooting her gaze into the eyes of the other as she pointed her out. Silently, she begged the girl to trust her, but she wouldn’t blame her for hating her for it. Looking down once more, Lienna turned on even feet back to her husband, walking back to him with a new steadiness, her demeanour visibly different. “I’ve chosen, my lord,” she reported, looking into those hungry eyes once again, not letting herself look away. Both of her hands clasped around her figurine. She forced a smile, playing at the edge of her lips and shifted her weight to one foot, sticking out her hip to add to her attempted facade. “I pray I have pleased you.” With that she ducked her head in a slight bow, and stood at his side once again, facing her new sisters, but looking down at her hands with hard eyes. A less-than-lovely girl and an older one. Lienna could only hope that her strategy would work.

Lienna Orhhneaht Note: Her hair is much longer and hangs in gentle waves, her eyes are a striking violet and her hair is white all the way through, with no dark ends. Even her eyelashes are white. Race: Gem Age: 18 Element(s): Water Height: 5'4 Bio: Lienna was born to a poor single mother outside a Gem village in the far North. From the get-go Lienna was taught to be self-reliant, not out of necessity but out of her mother’s need to have a child who could fare well on her own. Looking back, Lienna figures that her mother probably saw the Reaping coming, and predicted that Lienna may be chosen. She loved her daughter with all her might, however, and did her best to teach her how to be strong. “A strong woman makes choices to improve her life, no matter what those choices may be,” she’d always said, “A strong woman will never give up, not even when all hope is lost and everything is dark and broken.” But perhaps the most resounding of her mother's lessons was this: "Water always finds a way." This became a mantra for Lienna as she faced life’s natural challenges, but never did she truly understand what those words meant until the Reaping. On the day she was taken, Lienna shared tearful goodbyes with her mother, and while she loathed the idea of becoming a bride to a monster, her mother convinced her to go willingly. Lienna obeyed, knowing that it would be easier on her just to cooperate. However, her mother did leave her one remnant of home; into Lienna’s hands she thrust a tiny ivory statue of an owl, with shining amethyst eyes. Other: Lienna’s preferred use of her elemental magic is freezing water into ice, she is very intelligent but can barely read due to lack of formal education, (her mother taught her in other ways) and her white hair/skin and purple eyes are due to albinism, making her look quite odd but still quite attractive nonetheless.

Amaryllis Stone She stood among the other brides, a wallflower trying to blend into a background she did not match. She hoped to the goddesses that her dress was plain enough to keep them away but pretty enough to satisfy them. All in all she was fighting a losing battle for She had no idea what happened to un-chosen brides. She swallowed hard as she watched one of the Drakken brutally and savagely kill another Drakken, hitting him well after he had died until no part of him remained the same. She swallowed, her nerves getting the better of her in that moment and for the next few minutes, Ama tried very hard to tune out the world around her. To let the sounds fall away and let her body find peace in a more peaceful plane, a dark cave with only the sounds of a trickling stream to be heard. However, she couldn't ignore the sounds that soon came after, another fight breaking out. Vivari blessed! Do they always fight so often? Is there not a peaceful hair on their heads, the brutes?! She thought sourly as she was pulled back, the look in her eyes hardening as she watched them both pull away. So far, no eyes had reached her for more than a few seconds, though each second was far too long for her. Her knees still would not stop shaking and she was trying very hard to get back to that place, the dark cave. That was where she'd rather be. She hadn't moved an inch since entering the room, the only movement was the subtle shaking of her knees. The rest of her stood solid as the earth she was so fond of. She was still, rather painfully, repressing her glow from sight. She might have been one of the only Gems in the room not glowing. One of the Drakken might have thought her a mistake could they not feel the powers held within her. Though her mind was going elsewhere at this moment, the movements before her eyes still caught her eye. Slowly, she was pulled back from her cave, slowly she was pulled back to the reality of where she was and what she was. She felt the hairs on her body all stand up on end, her skin prickling up. She felt her heart sink down into the earth and she envied it, for how much she wished she could do the same. Before her stood a white hair Gem, a single finger pointed in her direction. It wouldn't have meant too much to her had the girl been actively looking at her and she probably could have hated her if she had. She watched as the girl then pointed out another Gem, possibly picking out another, her Drakken husband behind her. Ama felt her strength slow drain away and her grasp on her glow faded and it appeared. Her glow flashed in small bursts until it shone full force, a pale pink light that softly flickered around her. Her freckles dimmed under the soft pink glow around her and a green hue crept up into her eyes. On-lookers would see the fear in her eyes, the fear of the man standing behind the white haired female. She swallowed, waiting for what would come. What... would come? Her eyes scanned those she would be with, the white haired female and the blonde. The white haired female looked just as frightened as her, though faking it relatively well. Her movements were... just a bit too forced... She tried very hard not to look at the man, hoping and praying that her thinking was incorrect and maybe the white haired Gem was simply pointing her out to laugh at her or something. Maybe she'd missed something in her attempts to mentally escape this situation. Maybe...

Amaryllis "Ama" Stone Race: Gemminite Age: 18 Element(s): Earth Height: 5'7" Bio: Growing up a rather normal life, Ama has been around a gardening and farming family, having two Earth elemental parents. She has a fondness for animals and plants and she will defend them to the teeth. There was once a time when she beat a boy her age for picking her prized sunflower and handing it to her as a present. She detests violence but is more than strong-willed enough to take whatever life throws at her. As a younger sister with three older brothers, Ama has had her fair share of beatings, though they were done out of love and were never out of cruelty, her brothers just simply loved to tease her, not realizing how much they were actually hurting her. It was until her mother found out that the boys realized what they'd been doing wrong. Since then, Ama has grown accustumed to taking hits, never being one to back down. Since the moment with the boy, however, she has yet to raise a hand against another person, having been sorely scolded by her mother. Now, Ama finds her legs shaking at the thought of being given to an unknown man. However, though her legs buckle, her eyes are full of life, staring ahead with a strong will about them, blue eyes staring daggers into any willing to stare back. Other: Alternative Image (Not Glowing) Ama is not considered very pretty when not glowing, so many of the people around her wondered why she was chosen. Maybe it was a fluke?

Lugft smiled, a terrible thing, more akin to a hungry snarl than an expression of joy. Aery, Tirza, and the spitfire. The delicate, tiny flower, his blank canvas, a place to make a masterpiece. The spoils, feisty but obedient, and scared, a fine prize pried from the cold dead hands of a worthy foe. And the raging fire, angry, clever, and intensely stubborn, the wild stalion, that Lugft would break. He of course, addressed the spitfire first, grabbing her by the waist, and dipping her close to the floor in one fluid, surprisingly graceful motion, then bringing her up, and placing his lips right next to her ear, "Do you feel that, little Gem? That is pure, unrestrained strength in my arms, the same arms that just killed that man, and now hold you. You, are mine now, and I will make you last, don't think I'll kill you so easy, you'll be with your new... heh heh heh... Sisters? As you call them? For quite some time. And, as for my name," He spun her back to her place, and looked at all 3 of his new brides, and addressed all of them, "I, am Lugft Huron, heir to Huron family. I welcome you, as my new brides." Then, the duel began, and Lugft enjoyed it. Watching Wilhelm fight the royal brat Darion was certainly entertaining, but he knew the outcome would be nothing monumentous, a draw. Still, Wilhelm was un-defeated, and Lugft spent no time fawning over it, instead he turned to his brides, specifically to Aery, and stood right in front of her. He towered over her by a full 2 feet. She was practically shaking, and Lugft did one of the things he thought he could do to terrify her. He swept her off her feet, looking almost like he would slam her to the floor, then caught the small Gem, and kissed her with a passion like fire. That will startle her, he thought as Lugft finished the kiss, and swung her back to her feet. Then he turned, and began to walk to the door, but only after he had his still blood covered arms around his brides. "Now, I believe it's time we left my pretty Gem's, and on our way to the carriage why don't you decide who will get to sit next to me?" He let out a hearty laugh as he made his way to the door, wishing to finally head back to his manor, and make the special preparations required for his future duel with Wilhelm. And, if no one stopped him on the way out, he and the brides would enter the carriage, and begin the trip to the grand Huron manor, where the three young Gems would spend the rest of their days.

Name:Lugft Huron Race Drakken Age 213 Elements Fire Earth Height 6 feet, 8 inches Bio Born to a prominent drakken family, Lugft was originally thought to be small and weak as he grew slower than most other Drakken. But, he compensated by having possibly the shortest fuse in existence and being one hell of a fighter. A beast on the battlefield, even among Drakkens he is often seen as a brute. However, he can put on airs of grace if he must, though he is never truly civilized. He is also a fan of trophies, and his manor is bedecked with helmets, weapons and other trophies. His most prized trophies however, are his bride(s), showing them off in only the finest of anything. But, he is still far from a kind man, as he is war mongering, quick to anger, and intensely stubborn. Other Often keeps his favorite sword on his person

Zaerna Throt'oll Like an animal recently beat, attempting in vain to please its master in the wake of failure, the Gem cowered and offered obedience. Zaerna smiled warmly at her and inclined her head to show she was pleased, but said nothing. No more response was needed. Learning to commune with her master without words was one of many little things she would need to learn. She had deducted no punishment from the penance she had already earned, for good behavior was not optional behavior, though the female Drakken would remember the quick turn around. She suavely shouldered between the two, giving Kasari a stinging pat on the ass in response to her whining, and then rested one hand on each of her brides' hips. The challenges were settled, and now Zaerna, and her brides, had a clear view of the incipient conflict. An eager glint appeared in the Drakken's eyes and her fingers tightened against the two of them. It was slow to begin, and the female Drakken watched with bated as the two men of renown circled some distance away from the herd of Gems. Now knowing their choice to a duel of swordsmanship, she wished she hadn't moved her and her brides so far, but she could still see their actions in clear sight. Other happenings occurred on the side of the room, but she paid them little mind. Lady Throt'oll was prideful, to the point of being narcissistic, but she was far from stupid. A chance to watch two men of such caliber square off was a time to observe and learn, and there was no Gem more impressive than the awesome display between Wilhelm and the Prince. The two forces met, and it was an experience the female was sure to remember. The was a deftness, in the way Wilhelm held his body and sword, and brutality, from the Prince's unrelenting barrage, before unseen by her dark amber eyes; they darted quickly to drink in every move, and savored what she gathered from the sights. It imbued what she herself physically aspired. She could never match the strength of her male counterparts, no matter how much it infuriated her inside, and so had to compensate and use her smaller size to her advantage. She had to be quick and get inside someone's reach, and then strike once she had gotten too close to her opponent to hit. Her mace was short-hafted, considering she wielded it halfway down the handle. The display embodied what strived for, and from it, she would take any lesson she could. The duel ended in an anticlimactic draw, and Zaerna's lips formed a pout. She, too, wanted to duel Wilhelm, though in an entirely different manner. The female knew how to stop once her lesson was learned. As the two officially parted, her eyes lingered and watched Wilhelm retreat to his brides. Slumping down a bit, as she had risen to leaning forward on her toes, the female looked around to see what other business needed to be concluded. To her surprise, she missed the entrance of a few new Gems, and in particular one with striking white hair. The Prince approached the Gem, and Zaerna was a bit put off; she had been too hasty in her decisions. Regardless, she watched the girl shakily approach the line of brides, and Zaerna made sure her and her girls were close enough to be considered. She stayed between her two, and when the white-haired girl got close, openly leered at her and inspected her body. She passed up both of Zaerna's brides, and the female Drakken could almost feel her fire Gem aching to be picked. After the pale Gem moved passed them, she cooed sympathetically and jostled Sophia's hip.

Zaerna Throt'oll Race: Drakken Age: 189 Element(s): Wind, Earth Height: 6'4" Bio: The large Throt'oll family is one that has managed to birth about a dozen women in the last five decades. They seem to be blessed with women, and as such they have gotten quite influential with their family ties, having married these daughters off to many different, powerful merchant and military families close to them. Zaerna herself was actually born to a Drakken mother, Since birth, Zaerna has been treated quite differently than her brethren. Although she was raised to fight and war-monger all the same, she instead was taught to focus on managing to marry the most prominent man she could, as opposed to seeking glory on the battlefield (although her service was never discouraged). Having never been too interested in doing that, Zaerna has been a constant source of aggravation for her noble family. She is a fiercely independent, hedonistic woman, who cares little for the societal norms of her home. She cares little for the opinions of others, and instead of getting angry more often gets amused. She has a terrible superiority complex, especially against her brutish kin. Throughout her youth, she was rebellious and particularly spiteful, and left for the military as soon as she could. As one of the only women of her entire division, Zaerna has spent most of her time alone. As such, she is blunt and self-sufficient. In the army, what she lacked of her brothers' strength she made up for with her elemental abilities. She wields a family heirloom warmace named Mother's Kiss. She has recently returned from a distant operation which warranted her a wife. Other: N/A

Aery didn’t even realize she’d been set on the ground until her knees buckled and she hit the floor; didn’t even realize she wasn’t breathing until the dark spots crowded out her vision. She drew a shuddering breath into aching lungs. That’s it, Aery. You’re a dead girl. If he acts like that the rest of the time, you’re a dead girl walking. She shuddered even as she forced herself to her feet, entirely numb from the terror. Gosh, when the adrenaline leaves your body, Aery, you’re just going to collapse. Even if he decides that you’re the first one he’s going to… gratify… with his erm… attentions. You won’t be able to do anything. She realized that she was sandwiched between Tears and Lugft. She also realized that Lugft was jokingly asking who wanted to sit by him. Not me not me not me, Auram save me, I want to be five hundred leagues away from him right now. And yet she spoke up slightly. “M-my lord? I-I’ll s-s-sit n-next to y-you, i-i-if T-t-Tears o-or... F-Fireheart, here, d-don’t w-want to.” Her voice trembled. She hoped the fire girl wouldn’t roast her for the nickname, but she didn’t consciously remember hearing the girl ever say hers. Aery took another shuddering breath since her chest started aching. She was too scared to breathe… not a good thing. Definitely not a good thing. As always she started counting doubles in her head, breathing on every –eight. When she finally felt like she wouldn’t pass out she opened her eyes and forced a bland smile onto her face. She would survive this. She had to.

Booop

Kithra It was hard to keep the shivers from being visible, but she was trying her hardest to seem like she wasn't going to crumble under the weight of the Drakkens eyes. She was doing okay, but she felt slightly overwhelmed with the sudden realization that the two men would fight over her. She looked at Anna when she began to speak again, but she was cut off. Kithra went to move to the princess's side and try to help her, but she realized as she took a step forward that it was Wilhelm that was stealing the air from the princess's lungs. She reached out slightly before bring her hand to her mouth, she so badly wanted to help but there was nothing she could do. All she could do was watch, she wanted to scream but she would get his unwanted attention. Great Mother, give her strength. She prayed silently as she watched. Once Wilhelm gave the air back and the princess was able to breath, he turned his gaze to her. She quickly dropped her hand from her mouth and nodded slightly, she knew that he was telling her with that gaze that she would suffer the same fate if she went out of line, maybe even more so. She was after all just a servant, most likely something that he could to discard if he so chose to. So being a servant maybe worse than being a wife, as a wife could have children, and he would most likely want to have children with her. Her attention was suddenly pulled away from her thinking when she felt the hungered gaze of the Prince on her body. She swallowed hard and lifted her chin slightly as she tried not to show her fear or disgust. But before she could back away the Prince threw his cape at her, it was a huge thing that smelled a little funny. She stood there for a moment with the large cape covering her completely. She felt both scared and angry, scared because these were Drakkens, monsters that threw their weight around without the slightest care who it hurts. And Angry because she didn't wish to be someones after thought, someone's play thing that they could break and throw away. She was a person, someone blessed with the power of the earth. If she was powerful enough she could bring this every mountain down, and at that moment she really wished she could. Pulling the large cape off, she went over and stood near Anna. She didn't say a word to the princess, but words were not needed, not when the dual began. One would think that the older Drakken would of over powered the the Prince, but no, they seemed to be an even match. Kithra could see similarities in each of the Drakkens by the way they circled each other searching for a weakness, and with the way they lunged. But there was instability in the Prince, he was coming undone, if it was being in constant war before coming here or if he simply forgot his lessons it was hard to tell. From what Kithra could see Wilhelm seemed to see this as well. And just as fast as it started it ended when both of the Drakkens blades breaking, If they can break the metal of a finely crafted sword... I don't want to think what they can do to a Gem! She thought feeling a little sick, as she knew that they could break any of her sisters here with a mere flick of the wrist. "Kithra, Annayeva. To me, if you please." If you please? Like I have a choice! She thought bitterly as she and Anna went over to Wilhelm after giving back the cape to the Prince. She was kind of glad that she wasn't going to go with the Prince, as she could see in his eyes that he hungered, but he no longer hungered for a fight, no he lusted now. Kithra bit her lip feeling sorry for the rest of the girls that were left as he wouldn't be very nice to them. "If you've any questions of me, I will give you leave to speak them. And them alone." Kithra looked at the princess and could see that she was feeling defiant and slightly humiliated about what happened earlier, so she wasn't going to say anything. Taking a deep breath Kithra looked at Wilhelm while biting the inside of her lip, "What is your intentions with me, my Lord? Am I simply to be Anna's servant?" She asked wanting to be clear what she was in all of this. She looked at Anna and smiled ever so slightly before returning her gaze to Wilhelm. Tirza Tirza lifted an eye brow at her new husband when he introduced himself, he was full of himself but then what Drakken wasn't? She could see how he eyed his first two picks, he definitely hungered for them. Not that she was surprised, she was just the spoils of killing another of his kind. She folded her arms across her chest and held a look of boredom on her face, she was not impressed. In fact the death of her other claimer no longer bugged her. Sure there was a little fear in her but fear kept people alive, only an idiot had no fear. She knew how to survive and she knew how to fear others, but that never stopped her from taking some risks. Her attention was suddenly taken away from Lugft when the so called Prince and the Black dude started to dual. But it quickly lost her interest, they were not fighting for her and she could already tell that it would end in no death. She could see that the two duelist's had too much respect for each other to actually kill each other. And like she predicted they ended in a draw, she brought her hand to her mouth and yawned to show her boredom. This is boring, dangerous but boring. She thought before her attention was brought back to Lugft. He had picked up Aery and kissed her, she out of all three of them was the most scared of the Drakkens. He was doing that on purpose, that much she could tell. She reached out and gently touched the girls arm once she was let down, she looked at her worriedly and willed the air to flow to her and give her much need breath and strength. Tirza nearly snarled at Lugft when he laughed about them choosing who could sit next to him, but she held back as she gently helped Aery to her feet. But she could tell that the girl barely noticed her there. "M-my lord? I-I’ll s-s-sit n-next to y-you, i-i-if T-t-Tears o-or... F-Fireheart, here, d-don’t w-want to." BY ALL THE GODDESS'S AND GOD, SHE WILL NOT SIT NEXT TO HIM! She thought as her eyes went a little wide at the girls small show of bravery. She shook her head and practically latched herself to Lugft's arm as she smiled flirtatiously up at him. "You don't want them sitting beside you my Lord, you want someone who is a bit more exciting and willing to please you in any way that you wish." She said in a soothing and airy voice as she gently stroked his arm. She knew Drakken's loved to be pleased, and she just made an offer that would be hard to refuse. She was more than willing to take what ever he could dish out if it meant he would stay away from her sister brides.

Booop

Atallia Faeron Atallia raised her eyes to his in silent challenge, the Gold of her eyes absorbing the fire from her soul and beginning to crack into small fissures of red. What she found in his eyes was what she expected but it still scared her for the first time since she had been taken. What she found there was pure lust and a murderous instinct but she was unsure if her so-called husband could even tell the difference between the two. Certainly not after smashing one of his own kind's head in. Bringing herself back to that thought didn't help Talli as a small shiver scurried up her spine. The speed of his movements surprised her, especially for someone so large. Within a single second, he had closed the gap between them and had almost painfully set his hands on her hips. Thankfully, she didn't make any audible noises of shock but she quickly moved forward, pressing herself close to him. He certainly wouldn't be able to beat her if she was practically hugging him. His next move did, however, produce a quick inhale of breath as he dropped her towards the floor. Just before she hit the ground, he scooped her back up and she protectively slid her hands into his clothing, gripping it tightly to make sure he didn't get any second ideas. His words sent another shiver down her spine but she didn't allow them to deter her. The strength bit was a load of bullshit trying to show just how fearful she was of him. Talli was prepared for a difference in strength, however - all Drakkens were stronger than Gems but that didn't mean that all Gems immediately lost. The bit about making her last was enough to scare her but she wasn't about to back down; Talli would suffer if need be but she wasn't going to submit to him. "I'm not yours, Drakken, and neither are they." It seems her words were lost on him as he became engrossed in the duel between the two Drakkens. Atallia cared little for the brutal thing - she didn't find any entertainment in two men trying to murder each other but she wouldn't have minded seeing the Prince get trounced. The fight proved to be uneventful and as it drew to a close, Lugft turned to them and questioned who wished to sit beside him. Talli was prepared to stay silent but the shy girl, who had introduced herself as Aery, decided to volunteer to do the foul deed. She liked the nickname the girl gave her but she was insane, at best - Lugft would chew her up and spit her out if he got the chance. Thankfully, Tears took the initiative and attempted to use her womanly ways to pull Lugft's attention away from Aery. For that, the other bride earned Talli's respect. It would be useless for Talli to do the same as Tears because Lugft would simply pick Aery out of spite. For that reason, she raised her chin, crossed her arms and regarded him with an expression that implied that she wasn't amused. Prince Rynek Darion Somehow, Rynek allowed the girl to move forward without at least surveying his latest catch, which was definitely a first for him. He knew he would have his fun with her later and Rynek was mildly patient. Her first choice was strange, to say the least. The girl clearly was not as pretty as the others which led him to believe that the white-haired one was willing to choose brides that didn't look as good as her. Which presumably meant that she wanted Rynek's attention all to herself either out of lust or some weird act of self-sacrifice. Rynek hedged his bets on the latter which impressed him, even if it was stupid - if the girl was willing to go through everything he had planned for them just to avoid having her sisters do the same, then she was braver than her stance betrayed. Pulling his eyes away from his little white-haired Gem, he allowed himself some time to properly look at the girl she had chosen. She looked plain compared to the rest of them, the runt of the litter, but Rynek could feel power practically dripping from her and it interested him. She was holding back on something. What it was, he couldn't say, but he could probably tempt it out of her if he pushed her that bit closer to the edge. The next bride chosen was more to his liking. Tall, blonde and looking like she would be an absolute delight in bed. He took note of her age as well - she was older than the other brides but Rynek valued age for experience walked hand-in-hand with it and it had been a long time since he had had a Gem with some experience. All in all, he was impressed by the choices of the white-haired girl. She would be rewarded later on when he had the time but as of that moment, he needed to show his new brides precisely what they were in for. As Lienna approached him again, he nodded his head in approval, signifying he was pleased with her choices. His eyes, not missing a single thing, caught sight of a white object trapped between her clasped hands. This piqued his interest and he slowly reached a hand down, pulling her two hands upwards. Using his other hand, he pried her grip open, his gentleness a stark contrast to the rough edges of his eyes that stayed locked with hers - he wanted her to know just the effect she had on him. As he opened her hands, Rynek revealed the small statue of one of the Geminite Goddesses and a small smirk rose to his lips. Plucking it from her hands like some rare fruit, he turned it in his grasp and for a moment, it looked like he would crush it. "I have met faithful people before, little one. They curse you from their high altars and pray to infer the wrath of their countless Gods on you. They speak of their justice and take every crack of lightning as a message from the Gods themselves. Yet, when you spill the guts from their stomach, when you rape their wives and daughters and slaughter their sons, their Gods fall into a deep silence." "Do not clutch onto petty ideas of faith for it will hurt you more than anything I can do to you." With that, he laid the figurine back into her hands - he was not going to steal her Gods from her; it was her duty to turn her back on them. Gracing her with the ghost of a smile, he brushed past her towards the first one she had pointed out. Surprisingly, the girl didn't even need a helping hand to reveal her powers. The sheer terror that had engulfed her had brought it out and now she shone with a glow that beat nearly every girl around her. Hopefully she could keep it up because three beautiful Gems at his side, the head of a dead king and his daughter would receive a welcome that Drakka had never seen before. "I imagine you all heard my name from earlier so it's your turn to pay in kind. Your names?"

Atallia ("Talli") Faeron Race: Gemminite Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'2" Bio: If you believed that most if not all Gemminites were naught but some peace-loving, air-headed fools then Atallia is the living argument against that. Born in the north to the Faeron clan, she was taught from a young age that living under the boot of the Drakken was a nefarious business - they could either remain passive and wait until the boot stomped down or they could push back. Her family were one of the few in the whole nation that argued for the latter. After losing a sister to the Drakken, her father imbued within her that the continuation of the Drakken's very existence was a mockery to the Earth. Despite those rather serious lessons and the pressures of raising a daughter who was very clearly beautiful, her parents were good to her and gave her freedom to explore the world around her. It could have been the fire flowing through her but it seemed that from the outset, she was a flighty little thing with no regards for danger or rules. It landed her in more trouble than it was worth but she had quite a bit of fun annoying neighbours and numerous townsfolk. As she grew, Atallia didn't really change. Granted, she garnered a bit more attention from the males --a harsh curse that she remained unaware of-- and although she was a little more likely to wear a dress, you could almost always expect her to be causing a ruckus. Her ascent to womanhood was grateful, at best, but instead of just echoing the dying embers of rebellion, she became a soaring ember - something that the Gemminites could stand behind. Quick-witted and armed with a tongue sharp enough to draw blood, very little people could hold up an argument against her. Like a roaring flame, she was unpredictable and answered to no one. No one, that is, until the Drakken guards came calling. Talli had heard the stories like any Gemminite child of how the Drakken came and took their brides from the beautiful swathes of Gemminite youth. She had heard the stories of the Huron families and how girls suffered a life of abuse that was only ceased upon pregnancy. And the Zagmars, who became known as the "Defilers" for the fact that their brides went through horrors of catastrophic levels and more often than not, bucked under the pressure. Naturally, she didn't credit herself with much in terms of beauty but she was enough to warrant being chosen to become a bride. Strangely, as she was taken, she didn't fight or argue - this was an opportunity for her. Her intent was abnormal. She was going to show her people that they should not fear the Drakkens; she was going to have them hesitate the next time they picked their wives and there was no way in Hell she was going to destroy some light-hearted fellow. She would find the best of them and tear him a new one. Other: Atallia has a tattoo of a dragon upon her left shoulder. The origins of said tattoo will probably be explained IC. Her eyes are a gold colour but they've been known to light to a powerful red when she's particularly angry. Isn't the strongest in terms of magic but has enough cunning and tactical genius to use it where it counts. She's not suicidal either - she'll pick her battles.

Lienna Orhhneaht Lienna received only a nod in response to her choices, but a nod was enough. She figured anyway that many future responses from her new husband would be similar and needed getting used to. A pang of sadness hit her then, for how bleak was her future if she’d have to not only bend to the every whim of this beast of a man, but also be expected to answer to gestures like a trained animal? In any case, it was beyond help; this was her life now, and there was little she could do but live it. She was decently happy with her choices, once the barbarity of what she’d done was pushed from her mind; the Drakken seemed pleased with her second choice, which worried her, but he also looked a tad confused with her first choice. Lienna could tell he wasn’t stupid, though, and he was likely on to her strategy, but as of yet he made no mention of it if he did. Unfortunately, it was barely moments after the dirty work was done that her first choice, the plain brown-haired Gem, began glowing, brighter and less controlled than Lienna had ever seen. Where she came from, people only ever glowed when they used their elements in excess, or were overly emotional; the girl must have been mortified to be shining so brightly, or just have a poor control. Likely both. Damn, she thought, if you’d have held on a little longer he might have left you alone. Now though, there's no telling what he might do. She flashed the girl a look of sympathy, trying vainly to convey her remorse. She had no way of knowing if her message was received. It was barely a moment that Lienna had been in proximity to the Drakken that he took her wrists in one large hand and brought them up to examine them. He’d spotted her idol, she thought, and her suspicions were confirmed when he pried the thing from her grip. He was surprisingly gentle, but Lienna could feel the strength in his hands, and had no doubt that if she’d have struggled, he could have crushed those little hands of hers. Worse than that thought, though, was the look he gave her as he pried her hands apart; his eyes bored into hers, never flickering, conveying a bestial lust that made her legs tremble, and in the back of her mind Lienna briefly wondered what kind of fool she was for trying to pull his attentions to herself instead of pushing them onto her sisters. He held her ivory statuette up for appraisal, and for a moment Lienna feared he would destroy it. Yet his grip remained gentle, though his words tore through her more painfully than if he had reduced the ivory owl to dust. "I have met faithful people before, little one. They curse you from their high altars and pray to infer the wrath of their countless Gods on you. They speak of their justice and take every crack of lightning as a message from the Gods themselves. Yet, when you spill the guts from their stomach, when you rape their wives and daughters and slaughter their sons, their Gods fall into a deep silence." "Do not clutch onto petty ideas of faith for it will hurt you more than anything I can do to you." With that, Lienna was surprised to have her idol returned to her undamaged, and clasped it in her hands once again. She didn’t even know what to think after that, but thought a silent prayer to Naia all the same, begging for the wisdom to retain her faith and the strength to defend it. The things this man said, he said with such confidence. Lienna had no doubt he was speaking from experience, but even the thought of the atrocities he’d likely committed were lost in the surging dread she already felt toward her 'marriage' him. "I imagine you all heard my name from earlier so it's your turn to pay in kind. Your names?" Lienna, in fact, did not know his name. She must have missed it in her tardiness. However the other Drakken did seem to respect him, and judging by his skill in combat and the crown looped onto his belt (she did not want to wonder who’s head it had been taken from) she assumed he was a respected warlord. Nonetheless, it was not wise to serve a man without knowing what to call him. “My name is Lienna Orhhneat, if it lease you my lord.” She rolled the r’s in her surname and drew the end of it out like a whip, her northern accent showing through in the name. Curtseying, she asked, “And forgive me my lord, but I’m afraid I was not present to hear your name. Would you be so kind as to honour me with it?”

Lienna Orhhneaht Note: Her hair is much longer and hangs in gentle waves, her eyes are a striking violet and her hair is white all the way through, with no dark ends. Even her eyelashes are white. Race: Gem Age: 18 Element(s): Water Height: 5'4 Bio: Lienna was born to a poor single mother outside a Gem village in the far North. From the get-go Lienna was taught to be self-reliant, not out of necessity but out of her mother’s need to have a child who could fare well on her own. Looking back, Lienna figures that her mother probably saw the Reaping coming, and predicted that Lienna may be chosen. She loved her daughter with all her might, however, and did her best to teach her how to be strong. “A strong woman makes choices to improve her life, no matter what those choices may be,” she’d always said, “A strong woman will never give up, not even when all hope is lost and everything is dark and broken.” But perhaps the most resounding of her mother's lessons was this: "Water always finds a way." This became a mantra for Lienna as she faced life’s natural challenges, but never did she truly understand what those words meant until the Reaping. On the day she was taken, Lienna shared tearful goodbyes with her mother, and while she loathed the idea of becoming a bride to a monster, her mother convinced her to go willingly. Lienna obeyed, knowing that it would be easier on her just to cooperate. However, her mother did leave her one remnant of home; into Lienna’s hands she thrust a tiny ivory statue of an owl, with shining amethyst eyes. Other: Lienna’s preferred use of her elemental magic is freezing water into ice, she is very intelligent but can barely read due to lack of formal education, (her mother taught her in other ways) and her white hair/skin and purple eyes are due to albinism, making her look quite odd but still quite attractive nonetheless.

The Princess stayed silent as she hesitantly followed Wilhelm to his seat. He mused silently as to why that was. Was she trying to preserve her dignity before the assembled, Drakken and Gem alike? Or was her stubborn pride to blame? Truthfully, it did not matter to him. He had claimed her and none had contested it, and that was all that mattered. Every wife he had taken for himself in his lifetime had come to be his in every sense of the word; Princess Annayeva would be no different. The only thing he required was time. If anything, her attempt at spite in silence only amused him. The defiant ones were always the most intriguing to take. Kithra, on the other hand, sought to find her own strength by dispelling the uncertainty surrounding her fate. It was a valid inquiry, given that his discussion with her had been so rudely interrupted. And it was quite unusual for a Drakken to take a Gem as a serving girl rather than a bride. If nothing else, she was owed an explanation. "You will be attendant to her, yes, but also to my other wives. You see, I am different from most Drakken in many ways, but the one that most concerns the two of you is this; rather than take a multitude of brides like the blowhards and braggarts you might see over there, I keep only three wives at any one time. I find that it is much easier to manage my house as such, and it allows me to give each of them the attention and care that they deserve. Unfortunately, one of them recently passed away- a lovely little country girl by the name of Alexandra. This is why I have come to the selection. Annyeva will be taking her place in my home, as is customary for me. However, there was something about you that caught my eye, and it seemed a shame to see whatever it was consumed by one of the dogs. But I digress." He spoke in a calm, relaxed manner as he answered the question. If either of the girls were expecting threats, mockery, or some other display of dominance, they would be surprised by its absence. Wilhelm the Black did not partake in such things; he spoke matter-of-factly in all things, and allowed the image of him formed in the minds of others to perform all acts of intimidation for him. "When we reach the manor, I will see to it that you are taken under the wing of one of the other attendants, at first. In their tutelage, you will learn the functions of my house as well as the methods of care for my wives. Once you have been appropriately educated, you will continue in your mentor's stead while they take on separate duties. Anything further?"

All credit for the above image goes to Genzoman (whose artist signature I was forced to crop out on account of potential content rules) Wilhelm the Black Race: Drakken Age: 387 years Element(s): Fire & Air Height: 6'7" Bio: Few Drakken are as respected or feared as Wilhelm the Black. The rumors about him are every bit as wide and as varied among his own people as they are in the horror stories told about him across the land, but nobody knows what is true and what is not. Wilhelm does not allow anybody entrance to his domain save her servants, all of whom have somehow lost their ability to speak except to him. What is known for certain is that he is terrible to behold in battle, that he moves like liquid smoke, and swiftly dispatches any who cross him. Some whisper that he could depose the Drakken King with startling ease, if he so chose, but Wilhelm himself dismisses such mutterings as folly. And once dismissed, such things are never brought before him again; it is well known that Wilhelm does not tolerate slants against himself or his household in any measure. What is more remarkable is that, despite his hand being heavy in any conquest, Wilhelm rarely chooses to indulge in a Bridal Selection. At any one time, he keeps a mere three wives of his own, but never less than that; when one of his three wives has died, she is replaced as soon as possible, like clockwork. Other: Wilhelm is undefeated in duels, and only one of the Drakken Princes has ever managed to land a hit on him.

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Name:Lugft Huron Race Drakken Age 213 Elements Fire Earth Height 6 feet, 8 inches Bio Born to a prominent drakken family, Lugft was originally thought to be small and weak as he grew slower than most other Drakken. But, he compensated by having possibly the shortest fuse in existence and being one hell of a fighter. A beast on the battlefield, even among Drakkens he is often seen as a brute. However, he can put on airs of grace if he must, though he is never truly civilized. He is also a fan of trophies, and his manor is bedecked with helmets, weapons and other trophies. His most prized trophies however, are his bride(s), showing them off in only the finest of anything. But, he is still far from a kind man, as he is war mongering, quick to anger, and intensely stubborn. Other Often keeps his favorite sword on his person

Annaveya IV - The Price of Royalty Though it might have seemed that Anna's focus remained upon that of the ongoing madness that was the taking of her people, she had remained attentive to every single word that was uttered by her new husband-to-be. Distrustful of every word he said, Annaveya's eyes narrowed sharply as he continued to talk. Nonchalantly discussing the wife he had lost, and how she was the replacement. This monster probably murdered the poor girl, she thought furiously, though the contempt she held was not shown. A public display of rage and cruelty was not for those of wizened disposition, much in contrast to fools like Lugft. Instead, she quietly remained. Slowly, she turned to face Wilhelm as he even was so brash as to call his own people dogs. For a brief, quickly veiled moment, the stoic Princess looked perplexed, utterly confused by the mannerisms that Wilhelm possessed. Did he just truly, out rightly insult the very core of his people's behavior? How were such words even possible? It is a lie, a bluff, or a farce, there's absolutely no way he'd honestly think that. He's trying to get me to change my posture, it won't work. It mattered not, he might have claimed to not possess the viciousness that his brothers held; but Anna knew better. She had heard stories of this Drakken, this abomination upon the field of strife. However as he finished talking to the girl he had taken as a servant, the towering Wilhelm stood, and so did the Princess. She could sense his impatience, his dislike of the ongoing events that lay before him. Those of watery sense were keen to such. She looked up to him, not admirably nor fearfully. Still ever full of that beautifully strong guise of courage that she held. Anna refused the very thought that she would allow this man the chance to see her falter; even as his wife. "I suppose this means that we shall be departing soon. I have one question for you then, Wilhelm. What did you do to Alexandra? Where is she buried? I would like to pay my respects to my fallen sister."

Princess Annaveya IV Race: Gem Age: 18 Element(s): Water Height: 5'4" Bio: The King of the Gemminites has had many children in his lifetime, but none quite like Annaveya. She is his the fourth daughter of his highness, and so beautiful was she that she was given the name of his grandmother. Like others of royal blood, she was raised in culture, music, song, and lastly a brilliant education. She developed a keen wit, and had a strong sense for the intrigues of politics and the weight that rulers bore upon the people. What she didn't know was that she was destined to bear a similarly horrible weight of her own. On her eighteenth birthday, the day that she would at last be considered an adult by her people, tall armored men stormed the celebration. In a show of ruthless power, the Drakken Noble's court had decided that she would join the bridal candidacy. Whether her mother and father liked it or not, she was to be wed away and taken off to a far away; likely to never be seen again. The carriage rattled and rumbled along the dirt road to her destination, to an unknown and miserable future. It felt as if she were little more than simply property for the ruling Drakken parties, a token of peace in an imbalanced society. Once she arrived however, she found that war had been declared. Not only was she doomed to be a future bride to a likely very barbaric husband, she was also now a hostage at best. Before any more blood was spilled, she desperately needed to find a way to end the war. Other: (input here)

I didn't realize a seat next to me was so sought after! Lugft chuckled at the way the brides tried to bond and stand up for eachother, it was hilarious. Aery had immediately volunteered for the seat, trying to become a martyr perhaps? No, she was trying to look strong to them. He was about to declare her the lucky lady, and then Tirza spoke up. She was... good at persuasion. That was going to be fun when they were back at Lugft's manse. It was hard to resist... but he wanted Aery next to him, he wanted to learn more deeply about her... she was his blank slate, and he needed to know how best to paint her. "Fireheart", a perfect nickname, never spoke up herself, which surprised Lugft, he had expected a biting comment or snappy comeback like before, but she remained determinedly silent. So, as they exited the Grand Ballroom, and began down the halls to his carriage, "Now, now Tirza, Aery clearly asked first, so to the quicker goes the reward. Aery," he smiled at the tiny Gem, his eyes taking in every inch of her,then removed his arms from the other two Gems, allowing them to walk freely beside him, but also took Aery by her waist with his right arm, pressing her against him, "you are so perfect, so small and delicate, and yet you volunteer to sit beside a murderer like me? Truly you must be terrified, aren't you? Well, of course not, your shaking with fear. It's alright... I've no reason to hurt you yet." his avaricious smile again graced his face, his hungry eyes still stuck on her. In no time they arrived at his carriage, two guards stood beside the open door of the resplendent vehicle. Lugft lifted Aery into her seat, then helped Tirza and Fireheart to their seats across from Aery. He then sat down, and pulled Aery close to him. As the carriage set off, Lugft's still blood covered arms had dried, though he did not sit idly. His right hand began on Aery's knee but, as he spoke, worked it's way up her leg, stopping just short of her waist, "Well, now that we have a bit of time, let me ask the three of you a few questions, but let's start with any interests you have? I know, strange that I'm asking right? Well healthy and happy brides tend to both look better, and bear healthier children, and if I'm to show you off you must look your best" however, under his breath he also mentioned, "a happy bride's also less likely to off herself". He then waited for his brides answers, while practically groping Aery, for his hand wished to explore other areas... Though Lugft restrained himself for now.

Name:Lugft Huron Race Drakken Age 213 Elements Fire Earth Height 6 feet, 8 inches Bio Born to a prominent drakken family, Lugft was originally thought to be small and weak as he grew slower than most other Drakken. But, he compensated by having possibly the shortest fuse in existence and being one hell of a fighter. A beast on the battlefield, even among Drakkens he is often seen as a brute. However, he can put on airs of grace if he must, though he is never truly civilized. He is also a fan of trophies, and his manor is bedecked with helmets, weapons and other trophies. His most prized trophies however, are his bride(s), showing them off in only the finest of anything. But, he is still far from a kind man, as he is war mongering, quick to anger, and intensely stubborn. Other Often keeps his favorite sword on his person

Kithra Kithra bit the inside of her lip as Wilhem's cold eyes drifted over to her almost like he nearly forgot about her in the short span of calling her over. She knew that he didn't really care about her, she was just someone to care for his brides that way he wouldn't have to worry about them too much. Not that she thought that he worried about them, probably the only time he worried about them was if they carried his children. "You will be attendant to her, yes, but also to my other wives. You see, I am different from most Drakken in many ways, but the one that most concerns the two of you is this; rather than take a multitude of brides like the blowhards and braggarts you might see over there, I keep only three wives at any one time. I find that it is much easier to manage my house as such, and it allows me to give each of them the attention and care that they deserve. Unfortunately, one of them recently passed away- a lovely little country girl by the name of Alexandra. This is why I have come to the selection. Annyeva will be taking her place in my home, as is customary for me. However, there was something about you that caught my eye, and it seemed a shame to see whatever it was consumed by one of the dogs. But I digress." She lifted her eyebrow slightly at the mention of Alexandra, her eyes quickly flashed over to Anna before returning her gaze to Wilhelm. She knew her thoughts were the same as Anna's, as they both thought/wondered if he had killed his last bride. But then a different thought drifted through her head, What if she died in child birth? She cocked her head slightly at the thought as it could of happened. She heard stories of Gem women dying in child birth as their bodies were too frail to deliver a Drakken child. A part of her felt sorry for the girl Alexandra if she was in the middle of a difficult labour, but then another part of her knew that she was in a better place and that death was probably a release for her. Kithra looked over at Anna and wondered what wound happen if she became pregnant, she knew that she would most likely be done her training when that day comes. She didn't even pay attention to him calling his own kind dogs or the slight complement, as her mind was thinking about child birth. "When we reach the manor, I will see to it that you are taken under the wing of one of the other attendants, at first. In their tutelage, you will learn the functions of my house as well as the methods of care for my wives. Once you have been appropriately educated, you will continue in your mentor's stead while they take on separate duties. Anything further?" Kithra nodded half thinking as she still wasn't paying attention, she just really wished she could stop thinking about child birth. She was suddenly pulled out of her thinking when Anna spoke up and asked about Alexandra. She moved to stand slightly behind her, not in fear of the large Drakken but more out of show of respect for the princess. She was after all going to be her handmaid, hopefully who ever was going to train could train fast that way she wouldn't have to be too far from the princess. Great Mother, protect us and show us how to deal with these Drakkens. She silently prayed then felt a small amount of strength flow through her. She smiled slightly knowing that the Great Mother heard her prayer. Tirza Tirza could see the lust rise in Lugft's eyes and that he was really tempted to take her for her offer, but because Aery had offered first he was going to have her sit beside him. She crossed her arms and pouted showing her displeasure, she didn't care if she looked like a child being told she couldn't have something. She knew Aery was terrified and didn't want to be any closer to the brute than she had to be. She also knew that Fireheart didn't want to be close to him either, though she was full of biting remarks she didn't want the brute to touch her. None of them did really, well maybe a little on Tirza's part. But then she was daring, she liked to tempt fate and see how far she can get with. She felt disguested by the way Lugft treated and talked to Aery, he was doing it because he thought her as something he could mold into his perfect bride. Doesn't he see that she will die of fright before he can do anything with her? She thought angrily as she followed the Drakken down the halls to where the carriages were kept. He placed Aery into her seat like a prized doll before "helping" her and Fireheart into the carriage. And it seemed to get worse from there as even before the carriage pulled away he had his hand on Aery's leg, she badly wanted to strike at him to get him away from Aery who looked like she might die! "Well, now that we have a bit of time, let me ask the three of you a few questions, but let's start with any interests you have? I know, strange that I'm asking right? Well healthy and happy brides tend to both look better, and bear healthier children, and if I'm to show you off you must look your best" Holding back her anger and disgust, she smiled flirtatiously before running her foot up and down his leg, showing off her long smooth legs. She payed little attention to his comment about happy wives, she could care less about that part. "My interests come and go with the wind, my lord." She said in a sultry voice before slowly batting her eyes. "And currently I have only one interest." She said as she leaned forward and touched his knee. She knew that her chest was in full view but she made it seem like she was completely unaware of that. Goddess she knew she must of looked like whore to the other two, but she was willing to take his attention. "You don't want them, a scared little thing that will die of fright soon, You will never be able to have fun with her. And a Gem that has biting words but no real bite." She said, her voice still sultry as her hand went up his thigh slightly. "My lord, I can be your fantasy." She whispered in his ear before sitting in her seat again and giving him a small smile. She then slightly commanded the air to drift her scent up to Lugft, so that he would be intoxicated with the smell of her. Tirza knew that Drakken's loved a temptress, and boy if she wasn't one then she had no idea who was. She was even ready to sit on his lap if he would stop his disgusting act with Aery. She would do anything for her Gem sisters even if it caused her great pain and suffering.

Booop

Aery flashed a look of gratitude at Tirza for volunteering to sit by Lugft. But the look was replaced by terror as Lugft put his arm tightly around her. Dark spots filled her eyes as the fear welled up in her; it seemed almost like she was about to faint from the fear. “You are so perfect, so small and delicate, and yet you volunteer to sit beside a murderer like me? Truly you must be terrified, aren't you? Well, of course not, your shaking with fear. It's alright... I've no reason to hurt you… yet.” Aery felt a shudder run up her spine and suddenly leaned all her weight (which wasn’t much) up against Lugft as her legs suddenly turned to jelly. Gasping, trying to remember how to get air into her lungs and work her legs, she practically let Lugft carry her to the carriage. When she finally had enough control of herself, she whispered, “J-j-just a… J-just a l-litt-ttle g-giddy, sire.” Of course a lie, and a bad one at that, but she at least managed to say something. Feeling the power in those arms, the way they picked her up effortlessly and slid her into the carriage seat, made her more than a little woozy. She leaned limply against Lugft’s side as the carriage started down the road, too close to Lugft’s bloody body for comfort, but unable to control her muscles enough to sit up on her own. She flinched away from his hand as it trailed up her leg, uncomfortably close to her… secret parts. She blushed and covered his hand with both of hers, trying to unobtrusively push his hand away from that part of her. She knew that she wouldn’t have a choice, ultimately, but she wanted to put it off as long as possible. Dimly she became aware of Tirza talking… no, purring, to the Drakken, tyring to inflame his desire. Aery knew then what the girl was trying, knew it by the concerned look she flashed in Aery’s direction. Even scared, she wasn’t stupid. Quickly Aery turned her head to the side, “coughing” into her elbow. As she did she spoke quietly, gathering the words into a stream of wind and whispering them in Tizra’s ear. “Sister, please, don’t risk his wrath for me. I can take whatever torture he’ll inflict on me…” She said, shaping the wind so that only Tizra could hear. Again, a pitiful lie. “Well, maybe not take it, but I’m bound to die anyway. What’s the difference if I die of fright now or in childbirth later?” She faced forward again, leaning slightly away from Lugft, trying to show a hopeful, yet terrified expression. She knew she nailed the terrified part, because it wasn’t any sort of pretend. Hopefully she got the nervously hopeful expression. “Well, I will grant that Tizra probably knows more about… that… than I do, because I know she rather, “got out” some. But isn’t it more fun teaching someone about… it?” She met the girl’s eyes, begging her to not make a liar out of Aery. Not that Aery particularly wanted to die or get raped, but… She’d rather suffer if it meant the Drakken wouldn’t hurt Tizra over just trying to help her.

Booop

Atallia Faeron Fear did horrible things to some people. It made them forget who they truly were and take on something they're not. The same could be said for the shy one that had introduced herself as Aery. Talli had no doubt that the girl was strong of mind but she was not strong enough to hold off a Drakken for long. She was fragile; a little porcelain doll that had found its way into the hands of a monster. Tears was stronger and she could hold the Drakken off, at least for a time. She would hold the pressure for a while but eventually, fear would consume her too. It was Atallia who would be the last to fall. The fire was unyielding, strong, destructive. She was the one who should have been soaking up Lugft's attention, not her weaker sisters. The little fire Gem felt dread claw it's way upwards, corrupting as it went. He had chosen Aery and the Gods only knew what was in store for the young girl. The walk out to the carriage didn't take long at all and within no time, she could feel the now-familiar strength of his fingers wrapping around her waist, helping her up into it. She briefly considered lashing out in hopes of catching his face but that would just bring unnecessary anger that would just lead to her sister suffering further. So she abided him for the time being, making sure to set her jaw and lock it so that no words were passed beyond her blood-red lips. The dread that had tore its way up through her began to fade away as she watched what Lugft did to Aery, how he petrified her then began to take advantage of her fear, how he tried to use fear and strength to bend her to his will. He was everything wrong with the world. He was a disease and only the fire can purge disease. Her tiny fists balled, her palms heating to a heat that could melt steel that was all compressed within her grip. Atallia's teeth ground against one another and it took all her willpower not to just urge him to... ignite. She wasn't about to just sit down and give up, however. Her sister needed her and she knew Drakkens a lot better than Aery. Those bastards only had two emotions - desire and anger. Tears had already triggered one of those and it did little but Atallia was going to get the other one. Transferring some of the heat to her small knuckles, she suddenly lashed out with a right hook that was surprisingly strong, especially from a girl of her size. It connected - he probably wasn't expecting one of his precious little brides to have such a nasty bite. Taking advantage of the shock, she furrowed her eyebrows at him. "Listen here you Drakken shit. You bastards take brides for children. You want a child with a woman who can twist her words and the child's mind? Or maybe with a girl who's afraid of her own shadow? No, you dunce, you want a child with a little fire in their belly. A child to claim the power that you've always lusted for. I can give you that. Not them." She hoped he saw the merit to her argument because she was royally fucked if he didn't.

Atallia ("Talli") Faeron Race: Gemminite Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'2" Bio: If you believed that most if not all Gemminites were naught but some peace-loving, air-headed fools then Atallia is the living argument against that. Born in the north to the Faeron clan, she was taught from a young age that living under the boot of the Drakken was a nefarious business - they could either remain passive and wait until the boot stomped down or they could push back. Her family were one of the few in the whole nation that argued for the latter. After losing a sister to the Drakken, her father imbued within her that the continuation of the Drakken's very existence was a mockery to the Earth. Despite those rather serious lessons and the pressures of raising a daughter who was very clearly beautiful, her parents were good to her and gave her freedom to explore the world around her. It could have been the fire flowing through her but it seemed that from the outset, she was a flighty little thing with no regards for danger or rules. It landed her in more trouble than it was worth but she had quite a bit of fun annoying neighbours and numerous townsfolk. As she grew, Atallia didn't really change. Granted, she garnered a bit more attention from the males --a harsh curse that she remained unaware of-- and although she was a little more likely to wear a dress, you could almost always expect her to be causing a ruckus. Her ascent to womanhood was grateful, at best, but instead of just echoing the dying embers of rebellion, she became a soaring ember - something that the Gemminites could stand behind. Quick-witted and armed with a tongue sharp enough to draw blood, very little people could hold up an argument against her. Like a roaring flame, she was unpredictable and answered to no one. No one, that is, until the Drakken guards came calling. Talli had heard the stories like any Gemminite child of how the Drakken came and took their brides from the beautiful swathes of Gemminite youth. She had heard the stories of the Huron families and how girls suffered a life of abuse that was only ceased upon pregnancy. And the Zagmars, who became known as the "Defilers" for the fact that their brides went through horrors of catastrophic levels and more often than not, bucked under the pressure. Naturally, she didn't credit herself with much in terms of beauty but she was enough to warrant being chosen to become a bride. Strangely, as she was taken, she didn't fight or argue - this was an opportunity for her. Her intent was abnormal. She was going to show her people that they should not fear the Drakkens; she was going to have them hesitate the next time they picked their wives and there was no way in Hell she was going to destroy some light-hearted fellow. She would find the best of them and tear him a new one. Other: Atallia has a tattoo of a dragon upon her left shoulder. The origins of said tattoo will probably be explained IC. Her eyes are a gold colour but they've been known to light to a powerful red when she's particularly angry. Isn't the strongest in terms of magic but has enough cunning and tactical genius to use it where it counts. She's not suicidal either - she'll pick her battles.

Amaryllis Stone Ama could feel her insides churning as the Drakken seemed to approve of her choice. She watched as he took something from the girl, said a few words, and then returned it. She was too far away to hear any of what he'd said. However, she did hear the next bit. Swallowing to steel herself, Ama walked over to the man, stopping just before him, a few feet away. She took a breath before lifting her head to look up at him with strong blue eyes, her glow dimmed now but still faint. "I, like Lienna, did not hear your name, I apologize, sir." She explained with gentle words. Her voice wasn't soft, but it wasn't harsh either. It, like her eyes, held a certain firmness about it. "My name is Amaryllis Stone, sir..." She ended, putting a soft smile on her lips. Maybe if she met his anger with gentle grace, he wouldn't do so as often. She could feel the tightness of her heart as she waited for a response. Both standing near him and near the person that had done this to her was stressful. She wanted desperately to hate Lienna but she couldn't bring herself to after seeing the girl's face turn away in shame. She was just as much as victim as Ama was and she couldn't hold that against her. Though... She did want to get a small revenge on her at some point. Maybe... Maybe she could tease her a bit. Ignore her for a bit? Then, she explain later and become friends with the girl. Or she could simply yell at her a bit and then brush the entire thing aside. Yes, that would probably do to make her feel better. &

Amaryllis "Ama" Stone Race: Gemminite Age: 18 Element(s): Earth Height: 5'7" Bio: Growing up a rather normal life, Ama has been around a gardening and farming family, having two Earth elemental parents. She has a fondness for animals and plants and she will defend them to the teeth. There was once a time when she beat a boy her age for picking her prized sunflower and handing it to her as a present. She detests violence but is more than strong-willed enough to take whatever life throws at her. As a younger sister with three older brothers, Ama has had her fair share of beatings, though they were done out of love and were never out of cruelty, her brothers just simply loved to tease her, not realizing how much they were actually hurting her. It was until her mother found out that the boys realized what they'd been doing wrong. Since then, Ama has grown accustumed to taking hits, never being one to back down. Since the moment with the boy, however, she has yet to raise a hand against another person, having been sorely scolded by her mother. Now, Ama finds her legs shaking at the thought of being given to an unknown man. However, though her legs buckle, her eyes are full of life, staring ahead with a strong will about them, blue eyes staring daggers into any willing to stare back. Other: Alternative Image (Not Glowing) Ama is not considered very pretty when not glowing, so many of the people around her wondered why she was chosen. Maybe it was a fluke?

This was incredible! Lugft had asked what the interests of his brides were and Tears and Aery were all over him! Lugft wasn't stupid though, he knew they were just trying to protect eachother from his attentions. He always found that strange, it was inevitable that he would have them all was it not? So why resist? Why try to keep him away from the others? What was th point of it all? What- suddenly a quick stinging pain struck the left side of his face. Someone had hit him... no not someone... Fireheart had just punched him in the face. Rage bubbled to the surface almost immediately, as his mind raged with fire. Insolent little bitch! Gem whore! I'll fucking snap her neck! I'll brake both of her arms so she can't stop me from doing whatever I want! I'll... he paused... and breathed. He thought about what just happened, rather than flying into a fit of rage. He needed these brides to last... and savagely killing one right off the bat was a bad way to go about preserving the deliverer of your progeny. Why had she hit him? Obviously she wanted him to pay attention to her over Aery or Tears, but she went about it in a different way than they had. She was rebellious, but she wasn't subtle, she had no tact, just anger at her situation and a wish to protect her "sisters". Lugft cracked a wide, psychotic smile, and let loose a laugh as haunting as the howl of a hungry wolf. He locked eyes with Fireheart then, "Is that really why you hit me Fireheart? You would take such a risk as hitting a Drakken just so I ravage you first? Surely your not THAT horny... no, no, no... you just don't want me to do... oh, something like this," suddenly grabbing Aery, he wrenched her into his lap, before placing his hand on the back of her pretty laced top and ripping it open, the top half now hanging off of Aery, exposing her nude upper half to the rest of the occupants of the carriage. He held her arms down so she couldn't cover herself, "You didn't want this to happen right? You wanted the attention off of your sister who's... what did you say? Oh yes "Afraid of her own shadow"? Well you know I wouldn't have done this, not here at least, if you hadn't decided hitting me was a good idea, oh you want to know something else? You said you thought my children should have a fire in their belly yes?" now his right arm went around Aery's body to restrain her arms with only one of his. Lugft lifted his hand it was suddenly covered in flames. They disappeared quickly, but his palm glowed with unrestrained heat, "Let's see if Aery's belly can handle the heat eh?" and with that he harshly brought the hand down on Aery's stomach, branding his hand on it, no doubt producing a pain filled whimper from the tiny Gem. He lifted his hand then, as it rapidly cooled. But now Lugft had excited himself a bit, and again looked at Fireheart, "Maybe I should go a little further hm? Maybe remove the rest of her clothes? Take her first? Right here in front of you? All because you hit me? Lugft's smile had left his face, in its place now an angry snarl faced in Fireheart's direction, and again Lugft had to calm himself. Luckily, he had branded his perfect bride in the perfect spot, easy to conceal, and no one would be able to see the brand unless they removed her clothes. Good, but he wasn't done, not with Fireheart at least. Lugft placed Aery back in her place, surprisingly soft and careful with her form, and then, once she was back, he quickly snatched Fireheart and brought her to him. He stared into her eyes, his anger gone now, replaced with disturbing calm, Listen to me carefully Gem, I'm only to say this once. If you ever hit me again, I'll do far worse, and it may not be to you. I'll punish poor Aery perhaps, or maybe Tears, or maybe you, it all depends on you." he brought his right hand down to Fireheart's nice shapely ass and gripped haed, smiling a little, "Know that I will take whichever of you I wish whenever I wish, but please, it doesn't have to be like... like this!" he looked at Aery no doubt cowering from him, Do you think I enjoy it Gem? Think I enjoy hurting you all? I don't. There is no sport in it! Your not a challenge! There is no fun in a fight against an unworthy opponent. It's the same reason going to war with your kingdom is so pointlessly boring and drole to me. I'd rather fight something tougher than a Gem. he let her go then, and drew Aery back to him. He put her back in his lap, though he allowed her to cover herself should she do wish. He had his hand where it had been before, though now much closer to Aery's privates. Suddenly, he was laughing again, with a smile on his face. "Oh Aery, your so innocent! Of course I'll teach you, I'll do so very well. I'll even let Tirza help! He had responded to Aery's earlier statement as if nothing had happened. He had moved on from his fiery rage as quickly as it had come, but the scars from it would last far longer.

Name:Lugft Huron Race Drakken Age 213 Elements Fire Earth Height 6 feet, 8 inches Bio Born to a prominent drakken family, Lugft was originally thought to be small and weak as he grew slower than most other Drakken. But, he compensated by having possibly the shortest fuse in existence and being one hell of a fighter. A beast on the battlefield, even among Drakkens he is often seen as a brute. However, he can put on airs of grace if he must, though he is never truly civilized. He is also a fan of trophies, and his manor is bedecked with helmets, weapons and other trophies. His most prized trophies however, are his bride(s), showing them off in only the finest of anything. But, he is still far from a kind man, as he is war mongering, quick to anger, and intensely stubborn. Other Often keeps his favorite sword on his person

Tirza Tirza listened to the words spoken by Aery as she bent the wind so that only she could hear the words. It was a trick that all Air Gems knew how to do, it was the was easy to master. It made air Gems known as spies and good messengers though they were also held with uncertainty as they could also spread lies and gossip. But regardless it was a trick that was used by all air Gems. Tirza shook her head knowing that the Drakken wasn't going to kill Aery, and he was going to make sure that she lived even though she was scared out of her mind. She looked towards the window of the carriage and whispered to the air so that only Aery could hear it. "He will keep you alive, you are his pet, the one thing that he wishes to mold." She paused for a moment as she looked at Aery. "You are his leverage." Her last words she let hang with dread and a small mix of fear, as she could see that the brute wasn't stupid. Prone to out bursts, yes, but stupid, no. Just as she said the words Fireheart launched herself at Lugft hitting him. She sat up straight and went to grab Fireheart but the rage in Lugft's eyes stopped her short. Was he going to kill her, force himself on her, both? Goddess, how stupid were the girls that she was a sister bride to? None of them had tact, they were straight up in their ways, they didn't think before they acted and it was going to get someone hurt or killed. She watched as Lugft suddenly shifted from rage to a cool calm, SHIT! She thought knowing that he was actually thinking about what he was going to do next, a thinking Drakken was scary as hell. Though they were also scary when in a rage, hell, they were scary all the time. But this, this was terrifying. "Is that really why you hit me Fireheart? You would take such a risk as hitting a Drakken just so I ravage you first? Surely your not THAT horny... no, no, no... you just don't want me to do... oh, something like this," Lugft said with a crazy smile on his face as he grabbed Aery like doll and placed her on his lap again, but this time he ripped her shirt off exposing her chest. Tirza placed a hand over mouth as sat straight up, she could only imagine the terror that the poor girl was feeling as Lugft held her arms down. You didn't want this to happen right? You wanted the attention off of your sister who's... what did you say? Oh yes "Afraid of her own shadow"? Well you know I wouldn't have done this, not here at least, if you hadn't decided hitting me was a good idea, oh you want to know something else? You said you thought my children should have a fire in their belly yes? ....... Let's see if Aery's belly can handle the heat eh?" Tirza could see what was going to happen and reached out to stop him, "NO Lugft! Please!" She nearly yelled but she was too late as he branded poor Aery's belly. Without a second thought she sent a cold breeze over to Aery's brand mark, so that some of the pain would go away. She had expected many things from Lugft but this wasn't one of them. She could see now that Fireheart now realized what a mistake she made, which caused pain to the one she was hoping to "save". She watched how gently the Drakken then placed Aery back in her seat when just a few seconds ago he was rough with her. He then grabbed Fireheart and spoke to her, what he said she didn't know as she was no longer listening. Her mind could no longer process words, this was something that happened to her even when at home, though it usually happened when she was really tired, her mind couldn't believe she had just seen. She brought her hand to her face and held it there as she whispered to the air, "I'm sorry." she had the wind carry it to both Aery and Fireheart as she knew that they both needed to hear it. She didn't look at anyone as she retreated into herself for moment. She had to reassess how she was going to go about this, she let her mind drift. "Oh Aery, your so innocent! Of course I'll teach you, I'll do so very well. I'll even let Tirza help!" The sound of her name brought her back from her thoughts and made her look up at, she had a slightly confused expression as she looked at Lugft and Aery. Aery, the poor thing, looked like she might be sick and fall over dead. But it didn't stop the brute from placing his hands further up her legs. Without a second look at her sister brides, she moved over to sit next to Lugft seeing that Aery was no longer sitting there. "I don't share my toys very well, my lord." She said in a sultry voice, though her eyes teased. She wondered if he would pick up on her calling him her toy, though she was sure he would. She then took his hand that was closest to her and placed it at the base of her neck, it was placed where he could either choke her or move it down to her bosom. She didn't care that her sisters were watching, she wasn't even paying attention to them. It was like they weren't even in the carriage and that it was just her and the Drakken. "They were your first picks, I was something that you happened to win.... You have shown them that you want them, but you have shown little interest in me." She said softly and calmly as she looked into Lugft's eyes, one would of thought that she was talking to another Gem that was how she talked to the Drakken. She gave a small coy smile, her eyes showing only gentleness and tenderness, there was no anger or bitterness behind those eyes. She wondered if anyone had showed him this gentleness before, most likely not, as her people mostly showed fear, anger, resentment and lust, though the latter would be rare as well. "Am I not special to you as well?" She asked gently with a small amount of hurt in her voice. Was she faking this? Just putting on an act? No, no it was none of that. She was being sincere and her eyes betrayed that, all her life she had been rejected and for once she wanted to be wanted, even if that meant being wanted by a brute. EDIT: I feel like I should remind everyone of what Tirza is currently wearing

Booop

Aery couldn’t believe that the man would… Oh. Of course. To hurt Fireheart he’d hurt the rest of them. Why… Why did the girl slap him…? Aery yelped as Lugft lifted her into his lap, flushing crimson as her shirt was ripped in two. She tried to cover herself, but of course Lugft was stronger and she only managed to put herself even more prominently on display. And then his burning hand pressed across her exposed stomach and she suddenly stopped thinking much of anything. She didn’t scream; that, at least, she managed to avoid. But white spots danced in front of her eyes as it felt like her whole upper body was on fire. She gasped for air, trying to remember how to breathe, and then suddenly the excruciating burning was gone. But not so the stinging, and even the cool wind that her sister-wife channeled in her direction only intensified that agony. She didn’t even notice that Lugft had set her back down in her corner until she realized that she could lean back against the wall and cry. The burn was too tender to touch, or even to pull her dress back over. Carefully she studied it, wincing at how big it was (Covering from the bottom of her ribcage to the start of her skirt and spanning her entire waist) and how deep and painful the ugly wound was. Certainly anyone who might try to take her from Lugft would see the brand and would know who she belonged to. Aery couldn’t hear what the man was saying, though surely his comments were directed at her. She was too numb from the pain to care, even when he picked her up and slid his hands uncomfortably close between her legs. Tears streamed down her face even as she heard Lugft’s final comment to her, “I’ll teach you… I’ll even let Tirza help.” She felt a knot of dread form in her aching stomach, and then something changed hands and she quite abruptly fainted, while still lying in Lugft’s arms.

Atallia ("Talli") Faeron Race: Gemminite Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'2" Bio: If you believed that most if not all Gemminites were naught but some peace-loving, air-headed fools then Atallia is the living argument against that. Born in the north to the Faeron clan, she was taught from a young age that living under the boot of the Drakken was a nefarious business - they could either remain passive and wait until the boot stomped down or they could push back. Her family were one of the few in the whole nation that argued for the latter. After losing a sister to the Drakken, her father imbued within her that the continuation of the Drakken's very existence was a mockery to the Earth. Despite those rather serious lessons and the pressures of raising a daughter who was very clearly beautiful, her parents were good to her and gave her freedom to explore the world around her. It could have been the fire flowing through her but it seemed that from the outset, she was a flighty little thing with no regards for danger or rules. It landed her in more trouble than it was worth but she had quite a bit of fun annoying neighbours and numerous townsfolk. As she grew, Atallia didn't really change. Granted, she garnered a bit more attention from the males --a harsh curse that she remained unaware of-- and although she was a little more likely to wear a dress, you could almost always expect her to be causing a ruckus. Her ascent to womanhood was grateful, at best, but instead of just echoing the dying embers of rebellion, she became a soaring ember - something that the Gemminites could stand behind. Quick-witted and armed with a tongue sharp enough to draw blood, very little people could hold up an argument against her. Like a roaring flame, she was unpredictable and answered to no one. No one, that is, until the Drakken guards came calling. Talli had heard the stories like any Gemminite child of how the Drakken came and took their brides from the beautiful swathes of Gemminite youth. She had heard the stories of the Huron families and how girls suffered a life of abuse that was only ceased upon pregnancy. And the Zagmars, who became known as the "Defilers" for the fact that their brides went through horrors of catastrophic levels and more often than not, bucked under the pressure. Naturally, she didn't credit herself with much in terms of beauty but she was enough to warrant being chosen to become a bride. Strangely, as she was taken, she didn't fight or argue - this was an opportunity for her. Her intent was abnormal. She was going to show her people that they should not fear the Drakkens; she was going to have them hesitate the next time they picked their wives and there was no way in Hell she was going to destroy some light-hearted fellow. She would find the best of them and tear him a new one. Other: Atallia has a tattoo of a dragon upon her left shoulder. The origins of said tattoo will probably be explained IC. Her eyes are a gold colour but they've been known to light to a powerful red when she's particularly angry. Isn't the strongest in terms of magic but has enough cunning and tactical genius to use it where it counts. She's not suicidal either - she'll pick her battles.

Kasari jumped a little as the Female Drakken slapped her ass for whining, pouting subtly in return. Held in place by a hand on her hip, Kasari had little choice but to watch the duel that transpired. She could tell that this new 'wife' of hers was excited by the ordeal, as were many others about the room. It was apparent that each of the combatants were highly skilled and recognized as such by their peers. It wasn't hard to watch, the battle ending up a draw for most of the fight anyway. They had lasted longer than she had expected but still, the battle was quick and over before she knew it. She noticed that the woman who chose her and the other girl Sohpia had pushed the pair of them closer to the line in a subtle attempt to have them picked by another Gem who had been given the opportunity to choose her sister wives. Kasari sighed at this. So not even she wants us all that much. Great. Zaerna teased Sohpia with this fact as they were passed by, defeat sinking into her chest at last. A few of the Drakken lords were already distancing themselves from the line, either trying to sneak their brides off early or just plain challenging someone to stop them from leaving. Few did, however, so she watched her fellow Gem sisters leave with a sad look and a silent prayer for them. "Seems like everyone has pretty much made up their mind. Somehow I expected more fighting between you Drakken." She sighed, becoming bored just standing their behind the woman who was her unchallenged owner.

Kasari ("Ari") Liesma Race: Gemminite Age: 19 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'8" Bio: Full of life and brimming with energy, Kasari's family is known for their bold personalities and the fire running through their veins. As a family of more lively folk, Kasari grew up surrounded by laughter and warm hugs, a sentiment they were always willing to extend to the community around them. Sometimes too bold for their own good, work for the fire elementals was difficult but never dull. Even Kasari worked alongside her father and older brother, up until the day the guards came for her. Kasari might be peaceful by nature, but even a contained flame is still bright. Other: Kasari is quite attached to a pet lizard she had found in the garden as a child.

Lienna Orhhneaht At the her new ‘husband’s (well, whom she now knew was named Prince Rynek) reprimanding, Lienna bowed her head in apology, following obediently when he turned to leave the ballroom. As she walked, back straight and chin up (she would retain some dignity; she may be owned now, but she was owned my a prince) she almost had to run to keep up with Rynek’s long strides. Not only was she claimed by a Drakken, but a Drakken prince at that. Drakken royalty was determined by the strong and brutal; she’d even heard of the Drakken Prince who’d been leading his army into the South. Lienna wasn’t sure what this ‘marriage’ would mean for her. Would she be treated better, for the dignity of the royal family? Or worse, because her husband was bound to be especially heinous? The uncertainty spiked sickness through her gut, sharp spines of dread growing and pulsing in her abdomen. As the three of them left the ballroom, they had to pass the staircase which lead to the dressing rooms. Lienna looked behind her as quickly as she dared, casting a short yet solemn look in the direction of the room where her original clothes lay. She’d likely never have reason to wear furs again, and she’d miss the secure feeling of trousers as opposed to dresses. "I understand that many Drakken prefer to brand their brides in case of escape. Although I might have to do this later, I would prefer to have you know not to escape. Ever.” Lienna had snapped to attention when Rynek suddenly spoke. Shocked, she did not reply, but folded her hands and looked straight ahead until something began to feel…off. Of all things, she began to feel very warm. At first she thought it was nervousness, but it quickly escalated past any preconception of normalcy; her dress was heating up, quickly growing from odd, to uncomfortable, to outright painful. Within seconds she felt her skin flaring up, as if someone had dunked her in scalding water. er dress felt tight, and heated as if it were metal. A fire elemental, Lienna realized. It didn’t take a genius to guess. She pulled at the neckline of her dress, willing the burning to subside in the tighter areas. Then she drew what water there was in the air to her dress, wetting it more than she expected in an effort to cool it. The only effect it had, however, was to make the ever-hotter dress cling to her flesh more. She tried not to show her pain, but she had no doubt Rynek knew it. Finally and shamelessly, she fumbled with the ties of her dress, releasing the upper bodice of the dress and letting it hang loose, away from her skin but still covering her, held on by her sleeves. Of course, it was then that the heat stopped. As quickly as it came the heat was gone, and the dress was back to a normal temperature. Looking back, it couldn’t have been more than half a minute. Lienna wasn’t sure if the flush in her pale face was from the heat or the bodice that now hung loose, leaving her breasts easily viewable from the sides. She was compelled to try and fix her dress, but fought the urge, instead trying to appear unpurturned by her new condition. She’d told herself that she would be the perfect wife if she needed to, and it wouldn’t hurt to at least pretend she wasn’t shy about herself around her new husband. After all, she told herself, he was her husband. Technically, it shouldn’t bother her. Even as she thought it, a new twist formed in her stomach. "Make no mistakes. If any of you choose to run, only death awaits you. I control every fibre of your mortality now and I will be more than willing to steal your life away from you if you leave me. I could kill you now if I wished to. Snuff out your being with a gentle shift…” Of course, it had all been a threat. The man didn’t even need to look at them to have them in his total control. The shock was almost beginning to wear off at this point, but Lienna couldn’t help but feel a flurry in her gut, a mixture of dread and sick exhilaration. The very thought disgusted her, but she pushed it out of her mind and focused on walking. Eventually, they got outside and came to a caravan waiting outside Shadow Worth. Lienna welcomed the cool mountain air over her still-flushed skin, a shiver running through her as the wind chilled the wet fabric of her dress. There was an ornate carriage waiting for them, flanked front and back by mounted warriors who kept their gaze respectfully forward, glancing over the Prince’s new wives with little more than boredom. Renee helped them up into the carriage one at a time, paying extra attention to Lienna’s behind as he did so. Though he was gentle, she could feel the bridled strength in his hands, his arms as he lifted her. It was intimidating, to say the least, and combined with his comments as he introduced her and Amaryllis to the southern Princess in the carriage and his attempted dirty joke inside, Lienna could form a decent idea of her near, bleak future. Much to Lienna’s hidden delight, Rynek did not join them in the carriage, apparently choosing instead to ride among his men. Expecting a hero’s welcome, she figured. Though she was excited for a few hours without him to deal with her own emotions, she made herself look disappointed, leaning out of the window and reaching to gently caress his shoulder as he walked away. “Not riding with us, my Prince?” she asked sweetly, not really expecting an answer.

Lienna Orhhneaht Note: Her hair is much longer and hangs in gentle waves, her eyes are a striking violet and her hair is white all the way through, with no dark ends. Even her eyelashes are white. Race: Gem Age: 18 Element(s): Water Height: 5'4 Bio: Lienna was born to a poor single mother outside a Gem village in the far North. From the get-go Lienna was taught to be self-reliant, not out of necessity but out of her mother’s need to have a child who could fare well on her own. Looking back, Lienna figures that her mother probably saw the Reaping coming, and predicted that Lienna may be chosen. She loved her daughter with all her might, however, and did her best to teach her how to be strong. “A strong woman makes choices to improve her life, no matter what those choices may be,” she’d always said, “A strong woman will never give up, not even when all hope is lost and everything is dark and broken.” But perhaps the most resounding of her mother's lessons was this: "Water always finds a way." This became a mantra for Lienna as she faced life’s natural challenges, but never did she truly understand what those words meant until the Reaping. On the day she was taken, Lienna shared tearful goodbyes with her mother, and while she loathed the idea of becoming a bride to a monster, her mother convinced her to go willingly. Lienna obeyed, knowing that it would be easier on her just to cooperate. However, her mother did leave her one remnant of home; into Lienna’s hands she thrust a tiny ivory statue of an owl, with shining amethyst eyes. Other: Lienna’s preferred use of her elemental magic is freezing water into ice, she is very intelligent but can barely read due to lack of formal education, (her mother taught her in other ways) and her white hair/skin and purple eyes are due to albinism, making her look quite odd but still quite attractive nonetheless.

Zaerna Throt'oll And so the evening ends. With a lofty sigh, Zaerna slumped down against the girls at her side. She threw a last lingering gaze on the ballroom, the bottom curve of her horn grazing Kasari's scalp lightly as she did. All in all, the unmarried Throt'oll was viewing this evening as quite the success. She managed to claim two brides and avoid confrontation - if she had caused trouble, she would not return to a happy mother. Lord Thort'oll may be the War Lord head of their little clan, but it was the wrath of her mother the female Drakken dreaded most. Her reputation had to be impeccable if she wanted a husband of notable worth, and a discretion at such an event would not reflect nicely in her mother's eyes. The woman was already going to need convincing to not throw a fit about her daughter's brides already. With the hall emptying, the female Drakken held her two brides close and started leisurely walking toward the great double door exit, ignoring the manacles on both of the girls' wrists. The female Drakken responded to Kasari's comment in a condescending tone, "You pathetic creatures are not worth Drakken blood; you are hardly the cream of the crop, today, and yet someone as dignified as myself settled for you. Some barbaric men might fall to temptation, but know that those of us with minds recognizing the foolishness of fighting over you." As they passed the threshold she ordered one of the ambient workers to inform her carriage to be ready outside Shadow Worth. "Besides," she went on, "If one of you were so irresistible, we could just go and take your sisters." She snickered at the ridiculousness of the idea. "Now, I'm sure you're both curious as to why a female would have been given a bride." She said as she led the girls through hard granite halls adorned with tapestries and mosaics. Each piece of art was made by some or another race and showcased beautiful craftsmanship and technique, but depicted violent, bloody scenes of the Drakken's victory over those peoples. They passed window showing a large male Drakken with three much smaller Geminites encircled in his arms and the female jostled the two of them. "I earned you two in my escapades in the South. Myself and my squadron of sixteen lesser males swathed the Southern coast behind enemy lines to sterilize the area. We followed one of their low-traffic trade routes through bleak countryside, coming across the many small villages that housed the members of their reserve militias." At this point, the female led them down a large marble staircase, a thick red carpet running down them like a vein. The sounds her boots made resonated up the walls to the large ceiling and back, making for crisp clear retorts that punctuated her story like a metronome. "My men and I followed these routes to many small villages and hamlets that, once the main body of the South dwindle, their government would have turned to in order to bolster their ranks. We took that option away from them by completely neutralizing the area. First the fit men, who would have been brought against my own brothers, and then the infirm, and then the women and children." She didn't pause between the admission and her continuance, "In total, I do not remember how many towns we visited. This operation took course over a few weeks. My men and I would withdraw and reenter farther down the routes whenever we came close to discovery by outside forces. By leaving no witnesses, we were able to continue the mission until we were called back home." Out of the grandiose stairwell and through a great mural-covered hall she brought them. The dark mural depicted a large Drakken male standing triumphantly over a pile of bodies. The female made a religious gesture to the interpretation of Drun, her hand leaving Sophia's body as she did, only to return to the girls lower back once she was finished. "In all..." She finally finished her recounting, "I believe our count was somewhere near 1,100, though that includes young children and infants so it isn't too impressive. However, we took out a good percentage of their back up forces, and so myself, as the leader of the squadron, received the honors." She patted them again for effect - they were the 'honors' after all. The female Drakken fell silent as she ushered them down the rest of the hall, the next mural depicting Sorrak sitting in a lush throne surrounded by scantily clad female Drakkens. On the opposite wall, Krenta was illustrated in dark following robes in a field of bleached skulls, the sun hidden behind his head creating a halo around the deity's head. Again, Zaerna motioned out of respect for her gods, though not as fervently and within looking down to her feet as she had done before. The hall emptied into the cavernous entryway of Shadow Worth. Tall arched windows framed in wrought iron showed the desolate environment the Drakken inhabited. The only relief in the bland beige desert were the spokes of gray sandy crags or protruding mounds that housed termites. Very rarely, a cactus or stunted tree showed hints of green, but they were few and far between. A road cut through going both directions, and on the far side of the passage the mountains rose up in their orche glory. As the sorceress approached the final exited, she waved pleasantly to the two men posted there as they opened the set of smaller, more convenient doors. The heat hit the Drakken like a blow to the chest, but she was more than accostumed to it. The castle had only been so much cooler, but the blaring sun was oppressive in it's own right. She squinted her copper eyes, her large sideways horns doing nothing to shield her view. She quickened her pace down the large staircase that connect Shadow Worth with the passage between the mountains, releasing the girls to their own mobility. Her carriage glinted in the sun at the bottom of the steps. "You will refer to me as Mistress or Lady Throt'oll, whichever you prefer. Your duties at the estate will be similar to my current maids, to cook and clean within what schedule or order my house has already distinguished. Seeing as how such trivial matters do not need my attention, do not ask what or how that will work, as I will leave it to my headmaid to decide where she needs you." Zaerna was much more conscious of the going-ons in her estate than she let on, but she truthfully did not know where or how the girls would be put to work. "However, unlike the rest of my servants, your work and appearance will be inspect and regulated. You are, at the moment, the newest and therefore weakest members of my house. Prove your worth, and your place as my bride will be elevated and upheld. I doubt I need to go into detail as to what will happen if you don't; just know that any horror your innocent mind can conjure will be preferable to my dungeon." They came to the bottom of the stairwell, and Zaerna herded them to her carriage. It was a large, shapely box covered in intricate metal work with a few windows and steps leading up to the door. It was mostly a stained wood red with steel designs, and it rested atop four spindly yet sturdy wheels. Two black mares, at least 18 hands high, stood at attention with glistening metal harnesses and reigns leading back to the beautiful carriage. In the front, a handsome Southerner was holding the reigns, a bleak look on his face. Attached to the back of the carriage, however, seemingly out of place, was a roughly constructed iron cage. It was heated in the light of the sun, and rose on uneven wheels. The female stepped to the cage, unlocking it with a set of heavy keys and ripping it open. Without much warning, she approached Sophia and hauled her forward into the cage. "You'll be spending the trip in here. I do not tolerate disrespect. You'll learn the rest of your lesson at the estate." She swung the bars shut and lock the cage and, turning on her heel, paid the girl no mind as she attended to Kasari. She approached Kasari and gently took her hand, "Come, darling," she cooed absentmindedly, guiding the girl to the door of the carriage. She pulled it open and helped her inside, then climbed in behind her. Plush red seats and a glass liquor cabinet were inside; the carriage was considerable comfortable. There were a few windows, including one in the back pointed toward the cage. The female Drakken sat, pulled the Gem next to her, and poured two glasses of whiskey - one much fuller than the other. She took that glass and sipped it, without forcing the other glass of the Gem. "I suppose if either of you have any questions," She said loud enough for them both to hear, "now would be the time to ask them." As she spoke, the carriage slowly started to roll forward, and the female Drakken pulled her vibrant hair into a thong.

Zaerna Throt'oll Race: Drakken Age: 189 Element(s): Wind, Earth Height: 6'4" Bio: The large Throt'oll family is one that has managed to birth about a dozen women in the last five decades. They seem to be blessed with women, and as such they have gotten quite influential with their family ties, having married these daughters off to many different, powerful merchant and military families close to them. Zaerna herself was actually born to a Drakken mother, Since birth, Zaerna has been treated quite differently than her brethren. Although she was raised to fight and war-monger all the same, she instead was taught to focus on managing to marry the most prominent man she could, as opposed to seeking glory on the battlefield (although her service was never discouraged). Having never been too interested in doing that, Zaerna has been a constant source of aggravation for her noble family. She is a fiercely independent, hedonistic woman, who cares little for the societal norms of her home. She cares little for the opinions of others, and instead of getting angry more often gets amused. She has a terrible superiority complex, especially against her brutish kin. Throughout her youth, she was rebellious and particularly spiteful, and left for the military as soon as she could. As one of the only women of her entire division, Zaerna has spent most of her time alone. As such, she is blunt and self-sufficient. In the army, what she lacked of her brothers' strength she made up for with her elemental abilities. She wields a family heirloom warmace named Mother's Kiss. She has recently returned from a distant operation which warranted her a wife. Other: N/A

Kasari shivered as she felt the edge of Zaerna's horn brush past her head, one of the most intimidating features of the Drakken aside from their size. She lowered her head as the woman responded to her thoughts, the comment having been taken the wrong way by the woman now in charge of her life. "I apologize, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that I was always taught that Drakken enjoyed fighting, especially with each other. I was mistaken to assume." The young girl began chewing on her bottom lip, terrified that she might have upset the female Drakken like Sophia had. She listened intently to the rest of Zaerna's speech entailing her victories in the south. It was strange to hear such stories, being from such a peaceful nation herself, but it made sense to her that the Gems would pick such a race to defend them over the others. Anyone else would be annihalated by these beasts, then where would they be. What interested her more than the war story, however, was the images in which Zaerna motioned her respect to. She recognized them as being the deities the Drakkens worshipped, however she knew nothing about them. Kasari made a mental note to inquire about them later. Despite being herded by the female Drakken, Kasari had no troubles keeping up with the woman's pace, stepping lightly now that she had a better idea of what they were in for. It sounded like a lot of hard work, especially when considering it was for the rest of their lives, but the notion that she'd be a housemaid didn't frighten her as much as the thought of being a brute's sexual plaything. Eventually Zaerna ushered the Gem girls out the cool building and into the uncomfortable heat. Kasari was fairly impressed by the carriage, built sturdier and of finer materials than the one they had originally brought her in. She groaned internally when she spotted the cage attached to the back, expecting to spend the rest of her trip inside. Much to her surprise, however, Zaerna only threw Sophia inside before locking the door behind her. Thoroughly confused by this, Kasari followed behind Zaerna in a daze, climbing into the vehicle and sitting awkwardly as Zaerna climbed in next to her. She felt bad that she was the only Gem sitting in the comfortable carriage, but at the same time she didn't envy the position Sophia had put herself in. "Is it alright for me to drink this, Lady Throt'oll?" She asked the female Drakken, eyes flickering sympathetically to Sophia in the cage before returning to the drinks Zaerna had poured. Her uncertainty abou the drink was quickly lost, however, as she took the opportunity to ask her questions. "Oh, Mistriss Throt'oll." Kasari started, doing her best not to trip over the foreign name. "Do you have household deities? One god that you choose to worship over the others or is it distributed between them all?"

Kasari ("Ari") Liesma Race: Gemminite Age: 19 Element(s): Fire Height: 5'8" Bio: Full of life and brimming with energy, Kasari's family is known for their bold personalities and the fire running through their veins. As a family of more lively folk, Kasari grew up surrounded by laughter and warm hugs, a sentiment they were always willing to extend to the community around them. Sometimes too bold for their own good, work for the fire elementals was difficult but never dull. Even Kasari worked alongside her father and older brother, up until the day the guards came for her. Kasari might be peaceful by nature, but even a contained flame is still bright. Other: Kasari is quite attached to a pet lizard she had found in the garden as a child.

Sophia walked silently as the female Darkken lead her on. She passed through the halls of the castle. The walls were decorated with the exaggerated escapades of the Drakken people. It served as a effective propaganda to embolden Drakken and put fear into their foes. Sophia did not like the way the Drakken was so close to her. The Drakken went on and on explaining why she earned a bride. It was stupid, Sophia did not care. Sophia just remained silent. She did not need to make her life more miserable. Stepping outside the castle finally brought no relief to Sophia. Her Mistress' carriage pulled up carrying a cage on its back. Instantly Sophia understood the purpose of it. She offered no resistance when the Drakken put her in the cage. The bars and floor was hot, really hot. Sophia squirmed in pain as it burned her. She bit her tongue to keep from screaming in pain. Eventually, Sophia calmed down. She used what cloth she head in her dress to separate her skin from the metal. It only relieved her suffering for a few seconds. Sophia resigned herself to her pain. No longer caring Sophia stopped trying to avoid the pain and sat as still as she could. She silently begged for death.

Sophia Ravencaller Race: Gemminites Age: 18 Element(s): Fire Height: 5 foot 4 inches Bio: Sophia was born to a long line of fire elementals. Her family owned acres of lands in which they worked and had enough wealth to survive if crops failed for a season or two. They grew more than wheat and corn, they grew grapes for wine and tobacco for cash. Sophia grew up on the property and grew very accustomed to being outdoors. She developed a passion for horse riding and archery from a young age. When the Darrken Nobles came to claim Sophia as a bride, Her most of her family refused. Sophia however surrendered to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed and to protect her family. Other: (input here)

1st Shot - Stealing a Goddess Cotton like clouds of steam poured into the pure blue sun lit sky, accompanied by the whistles and hisses of churning engines and grinding gears as a large water bound vessel of gleaming chrome and bronze pushed through the wading tides of the deep blue ocean, leaving a foamy wake in its trail. It was a large Galleon class ship, sporting massive sales which gently billowed in the breeze and large burgundy paddle wheels on each side which spun sluggishly in the waters, propelling the massive craft forward. Just ahead, a colossal half dome shell of structures and docks, gaping like the maw of a titan waited to receive the large ship which was dwarfed in comparison. Lining the insides of the massive structure like misshapen fangs were metal scaffolding and catwalks which bridged between several overhanging cranes and pulley systems. Dusty and mossy spotlights littered the infrastructure, gently dangling in the oceans' draft on the ends of bronze cords. Another plume of pillowy steam hissed out of silos across the top of the ship as its engines cooled. The paddle wheels eked to a halt. Ahead of the ship, sectioned off by docks made of brass and wood were a crowd of smaller boats and water faring craft all lined up in their own little spaces, held in place at the stern by gear bound mechanical arms with hands gloved in off-white rubber and stained with a layer of scum, rust, and moss. Water lapped against the sturdy metal legs of the dock as the large vessel grew closer. A mist of foam and sea water sprayed into the air as a pair of large brass mechanical arms rose from the water just below each side of the ship, wrapping their fingers around the stern of the boat and halting its motion. After a bit of jittering around and whining of creaky mechanisms, the gloved hands tugged the boat through the water and gently but sluggishly moved the ship into place along side the dock. A twelve foot tall man with three eyes, blue tinted skin and baggy worn out jeans held up by suspenders shambled over the the edge of the dock toeing a large metal canister over his shoulder. Sauntering up next to the new arrivals, the giant reached out With lanky arms, and was able to easily set the cylindrical container onto the ships deck. His sunken in face wore a mulish expression as he reeled back away from the ship, lumbering around for a bit before making his way back to the small dock house and squeezing himself inside. "Attention passengers of the aurora Ferry, We have arrive at our destination of Runeria. If this is your destination, please make sure you have all your belongings and exit onto the docks on the port side of the ship. Welcome to the Relic Island!" Metal doors on the deck of the ship slid open, and a ramp extended off the left side of the ship, connecting with the boardwalk. On cue, a hustle and bustle of travelers of all creeds began to file off the ship. "Kracken wonton!" "Fired seakhawk!" "Megalodon Miso!" As soon as the docks end, the coastal town of Port Runeria begins, along with the welcoming party of barters and merchants eager to catch the eye new customers among the flock of travelers. "Only the best deals right off the boat!" "Mermaid pharamone extract! Smell just like the sexiest sirens!" "Wada wada royal dresses and night wear wada wada! Make men drool wada wada!" "Enchanted pearls! Guaranteed ten years of good luck!" Soon to follow is a bombardment to the senses as the sights, sounds and smells of the town greet those coming from the docks. The air was choked with the smells of frying fish and various food stands mixed in with the salty oceanic breeze. All around and above, a colorful display of patterns, posters, and decorations litter the storefronts and skies, strung up between lampposts and rickety buildings. Cobbled streets and alleys wind through the cluster of buildings, stands, and tents marking the pathways through the entire town. Deeper into town, nestled snugly between a not so classy night club and the entrance to a rather large and crowded bazaar, laid a shabby wood and iron two story part bar, part motel known by the off center wooden sign dangling over the doors as the Leaky Grove Tavern. Inside the dimly lit confines of the muggy drinking hole, several patrons both new and old jostled and drank the stress of their travels away. Scantily clad waitresses glided between tables, doling out drinks while absently swatting away wandering hands and pinching fingers. Sounds of merry and music rang through the air as a quartet of musicians playing brass, strings, keys, and drums filled the tavern with a jazzy melody. The cloying scent of alcohol and perfume wafted about the tavern, which mixed with a twinge of sweat closer to the claustrophobic dance floor. Wood chips and dirty rushes were kicked about the smooth stone floors as couples and drunks threw themselves from one side of the bar to the other, possessed by the rhythm of the music. In spite of the boisterous crowd that populated the noisy tavern, there was one area among the dingy interior that remained relatively clear. Rather, it was an area most everyone avoided. Near the back, sitting at a gnarled mahogany circular table in the small clearing made by the other patrons, were a sinister looking group of shady individuals. There were five in total, sporting scars and looming expressions with cold stares. Each seemed a bit rougher than your common scoundrels that common a place like this, with hands never straying too far from the rapiers and flintlock pistols that hung loosely off their belts. Among them, one in particular seemed more hardened than the others. A long scraggly bush of black wiry whiskers coated the rather large mans maw, hanging over his broad half exposed chest. Curly disheveled hair the same color as his beard draped down over his shoulders from beneath a three cornered leather hat. With a burly arm he rose a wooded mug filled with a dark brown booze to his mulish visage and poured the liquid down his gullet over stained teeth. What missed his mouth ran down his chin, leaking through an unkempt beard and staining his weathered burgundy doublet. Drawing his arm up to empty the mug, his bristly chest and somewhat plump gut further emerged, fully relieving a tattoo that ran down the center of his abdomen. A symbol which has been on countless bounty posters offering millions of gold for the last two years. The mark of the Red Fang Pirates.

Character Compendium Sheet format Name - (last and middle being optional. Feel free to include any nicknames or titles.) Age - (If your species lives for an inhuman amount of time such as smaller or larger lifespans than 100 years, please give us an idea of the general lifespan of your species along with their individual age.) Species - (Fantasy Characters welcome. Human, Elf, Dwarf, Beastman preferred. Beastman encompasses anything that's part animal part human. No gods or aliens.) Gender - (Assuming your species has gender, List here.) Appearance - (Drawings, Anime pictures, Pixel art, and photos are all fine. Everyone has their own version of what their character looks like in whatever art form. Whatever it is, please include a brief or detailed worded description below the image for posterity sake.) Personality - (The psychological and mental habits of your character and adversely their species if they have any particular personality quirks that they inherit from their kind.) History - (Some may opt to remain mysterious. Some may opt to share this during the story. Either is fine. But if you wish to share, you can tell us about where your character came from and how they grew up. Feel free to make up your own home island if you want just be sure to describe it.) Equipment - (The weapons or armaments your character my possess at any given time. Also list what equipment your character is proficient with.) Powers - (See OOC. Powers are optional. Leave your character some room to grow. We'll be going places on this journey so leave some powers for your character to unlock or discover along the way. Or don't. It isn't necessary. Just makes the story more interesting if there's some yet to be unlocked potential in the cast.) Activity - (How often can you log in, what days/times are you available to post, and if you have any commitments that might take away from your time, how long will you be gone.) Extras - (Have I missed anything? Any tidbits you wanna include? I couldn't think of anything else to ask for in the moment so by all means put whatever you want here.) Character List Mira Streetwalker - Tybalt Capulet Zarpaden Volk - Polybius Yeva Darbinian - Rekaigan Gharn Werefang - Overlord Thraka Hayden Ventus - GrizzTheMauler Aedre Starling - Saquira --------

Zarparden Volk The whistle for departure from the ferry-ship Aurora startled Zarpaden awake. The scoundrel rubbed his bleary eyes and he wiped a wad of spit from his bristly chin. He sat up among a pile of canvas and sacks containing fruit. A few apple cores and banana rinds were scattered around the man. Two men stood before him, a grim expression on their soot-covered faces. The smaller of the two had a wicked scar across the side of his face. One of his eyes hung lazily in the socket. The other man, bare chested and bristling with muscles pointed a finger at Zarpaden. "Stowaway!" he said, reaching for Zarpaden's tunic. "Thief!" spat the other man pointing at the discarded fruit rinds. The two pulled Zarpaden to his feet. Still groggy, Zarpaden checked his pockets. His sword was somewhere nearby... "Now wait a minute, gentlemen," said Zarpaden, attempting to buy some time. "Can't we talk about this?" "Sure," said one of the men. "You can explain to the cap'n, now move!" Zarpaden cocked his head to the side. "You did not say please." The two launched themselves at the stowaway, fists raining down on his head and chest, knocking him to the ground once more. "Tie his hands!" shouted the larger man. Zarpaden was searching frantically for his weapon among his makeshift bed. Where the devil is the blasted thing! Blows continued to fall, and Zarpaden felt his hand wrenched back behind him. He started to kick furiously, connected with something soft, and the attack was momentarily abated. Taking the opportunity, Zarpaden grabbed the nearest thing he could find. His nimble fingers wrapped around something spherical and he flung the thing as hard as he could at the man still attacking him. "Ooof!" The one-eyed man reeled back into his companion, who was prone clutching his stomach. Zarpaden leapt to his feet with an armful of fruit and began launching apples, bananas, avacados, whatever he could get his hands on at his attackers. "Ha!" shouted Zarpaden triumphantly. The men retreated, but already Zarpaden could hear more footsteps down the corridor of the cargo hold. Something glinted in the lantern light; a shiny metal sword hilt tucked beneath some burlap. Zarpaden rolled (rather dramatically) to retrieve his blade, stood up and vaulted over the two ferry-men with a laugh. Curses and shouts followed him down the corridor. later... Soaking wet from the short swim through the harbor, Zarpaden sat on a stone embankment outside of the Leaky Grove Tavern. The noise from inside poured onto the street, and Zarpaden wished sorely for a rum. His dinner (and breakfast) had left his stomach churning, and he could do with a hot meal as well. He overturned a soggy boot and seawater splattered onto the cobble road. Zarpaden surveyed his surroundings. The street, wide and busy was one he knew well. He had frequented the city of Runeria once or twice. It had changed in many ways, yet stayed the same. Slipping his foot back into his boot he stood up, plucked a piece of seaweed from his stained tunic and sauntered into the Tavern like he owned the place.

tldr; sword slinger for hire. Nasty temper. Greedy. Name - Zarpaden Volk Age - 29 Species - Human Gender - Male Appearance- A lithe man of imposing stature, armed to the teeth with saber, knives, brass knuckles and whatever else he can get his hands on. Zarpaden is ruggedly handsome, although he is often in need of a shower and shave. Long wavy black hair tied carelessly in a ponytail in the fashion of pirates. A strong jaw and a nose just a bit too big for his features. Black eyes and the tanned complexion of a man that has seen many a day at sea. He wears a loose white tunic that may have once been presentable. Black trousers and a scarlet sash over his leather belt. Brown salt-crusted boots with a dagger or two tucked in. Personality - Just as quick to grin as he is to anger, Zarpaden is an adventurer at heart, eager to make a quick buck for whoever is paying the highest. Shallow, self-involved and often the first into the fight. History - Zarpaden has made the rounds as a mercenary, sometimes pirate and seaman. He has also served in some minor militias where the fighting was thickest. A typical small town orphan who fled to the grander cities when he could find his own way. (Will add more details as the RP progresses) Equipment - Longsword, 3x Daggers, Water Flask, Rum Flask, 5 days rations, Parchment, Ink, Quill, spare boots, rope, string, a few odd coins from distant kingdoms. Powers - Solid martial prowess with swords and firearms including larger guns. Capable seaman and navigator, negotiator (lots of contacts around the more nefarious ports and towns) and haggler. Activity - Mon-Thurs: After 9 or 10 EST. Sundays After 9 EST. Extras - nah. Maybe...nah, not yet.

MIRA STREETWALKER The sound of water lapping against the hull of the Aurora Ferry almost entirely covered the sound of blood dripping from the portly man's throat to the wooden floor. A pair of recently-cleaned knives rested on the bed, blades treated with a chemical solution that left them with a smoky-looking surface, so as to prevent them shining under lights. Their owner, a tall, fiery-haired young woman, stood at the foot of the bed, frowning at the sight of the hefty merchant who had hired her services, as if remembering how she'd paid for her fare across the water. At the sound of the whistle announcing the ferry's arrival, the harlot cursed to herself and began to dress, slipping a palm-sized steam-powered pistol into a small pocket within her brassiere, and carefully fastening the straps to allow for easy access to the emergency weapon. The low-cut tunic that went over it also left clear access, and advertised the wearer as the lady of the evening she was. A pair of soft leather pants allowed for freedom of movement, and showcased her long legs, and her tall boots became home to the two smoky knives. Mira Streetwalker; Harlot, Assassin, and erstwhile adventurer opened the cabin door carefully, so as not to reveal the body to anyone who might be passing by through the hallway. She didn't carry much with her, which set her apart a bit from some of the other passengers, but her coin pouch was heavy after emptying that of the now-deceased merchant. Merging into the crowd, she stepped off of the boat onto the damp streets of Runeria. Though she hadn't been to the city in some time, it exhibited all of the normal traits of a port city, and a harlot like herself was sure to find work quickly enough, especially with the constant influx of sailors on shore leave. With that intention in mind, Mira walked briskly past the street vendors hawking their wares, and found the first Inn she could, hoping to establish herself as open for business, and also find something to drink, to cleanse her palate after the unpleasant night. The sound of musicians and boisterous patrons drew Mira as surely as a rope on a misbehaving dog. She snuck inside, trying not to make herself too visible, as she was hoping to rest a bit before being hired again, for either of her professions. She would usually have chosen a table towards the back with this intention, but the most shadowed space seemed quite, quite occupied. Bearing this in mind, she took a seat at the bar itself, plunking a few coppery coins on the table with what she hoped was an honest-looking smile. Some taverns liked to have plenty of her kind on hand, to create an atmosphere of easy fun, but others discouraged the presence of whores, attempting to preserve an image of decorum. She waved for a drink, hoping that this place was one of the former, as the clothing of the waitresses suggested.

Name - Mira Streetwalker Age - 22, though looks no older than 18. Species - 1/4 elf, 3/4 human. Gender - Female Appearance - Average height, lean hourglass figure, long red hair, light skin. Personality - Confident, take-charge, assertive. In any situation, likes to make it clear that even if she is not the leader, she isn't to be ignored or commanded. Constantly vigilant and on-guard. History - Born to a whore and an actor, she pursued her mother's profession with a passion, and eventually realized that a man with his pants down was quite vulnerable, especially to someone with the skills to take advantage of it. Since then, she has worked as a contract killer as well as a harlot, and derives pleasure from perfecting both arts. Despite her talent, she is quite unknown to most, which makes her jobs all the more simple. Equipment - Two long knives, makeup and hair/skin dye, anti-conception charms and drugs, steam-powered pistol, hidden in brassiere pocket. Powers - Expert seductress, skilled in assassination-style combat, but not in actual fighting. Activity - I can usually be on from about 10-12 Pacific time, as well as other times throughout the day, depending on how busy I am. I'm much more available during the week than on weekends.

W-what are they doing here? Outside across the port, curious and fearful eyes looked on as a large white and blue ship brimmed with bronze and gold with white sales waded into the harbor. Just like any other ship, the vessel was greeted by massive mechanical arms and gloved hands which guided it in. Painted diligently across the sails and around the broad sides of the ship were symbols unmistakable to anyone in the world. The symbols of the World Military... A raging guffaw of amusement erupted from a group of ragged drinkers seated near the entrance to the tavern, set off by the sight of the damp Zarpaden as he boldly emerged through the entrance, a trail of watery footsteps in his wake. "Whoa what happened buddy?! You look washed up!" Jested one of the old men between bouts of laughter. "Man that's Shallow!" Snickered another. "Oh cry me a river mate!" Chuckled a third. "Yeah, you know it's sink or swim in this world!" The men's few remaining teeth rattled with laughter as they competed to blurt out more water related puns. Most got lost in the cacophony of music and rabble of voices that filled the bottom floor bar section of the tavern. Before the three geezers could manage any more quips, the doors swung open again. Their expressions changed entirely, jaws nearly dropping out of their skulls as their eyes glued to the voluptuous form of Mira which appeared from behind the moist man. Captivated by the gyrations of her enchanting motions as she strode by, the old men looked on in awe for several moments before they managed to gather their respective jaws off the floor. Wisecracks and laughter were soon replaced with hooting and whistling. "Hey sweetie pie! How about you let me buy you a drink!" "How 'bout dinner?" "How about a house and kids?" "You old fart, you're dryer than dust in the dessert on a summer day!" "And your broke ass couldn't buy a wart off a cucumber if pickles were sold for stones!" The old men continued to bicker as the woman made her way to the long circular bar counter made of dark brown mahogany and embroidered with the carvings of lion heads that lined the surface below its edges. As she approached through the shifting crowds, her gaze was met by the piercing brown eyes of a doberman. Thinly veiled in a cloud of smoke, he drew on a half burned cigar dangling from his tan jowls before huffing out a pale plume from the end of his long snout. Pointed ears rotated subtly as acute hearing monitored the voices of those gathered around the counter for beckons or orders. Finishing up with drying an empty mug, the dober-man relaxed his hands gloved in white against the top of the counter, letting his head sink into his shoulders a bit as he quickly read the expression on Mira's face. An expression he recognized by now as someone who wouldn't be shy with the orders. She probably wouldn't be shy with the money either judging by her attire. Something else he had seen plenty of, though not usually while the sun was still up. "Pick yer poison hon." Growled the hound-headed Bartender in a scruff choked voice. Rings of smoke escaped his fang filled maw, floating through the air to frame the fair skinned face of the red haired temptress. "Make it snappy doll. It's a busy one today." Behind the bar were several shelves and cases stocked with liquors and ales imported from all over the seas. Thanks to the many traders and salesmen that frequented Runeria, the variety of everything available was great. The booze was no exception.

Character Compendium Sheet format Name - (last and middle being optional. Feel free to include any nicknames or titles.) Age - (If your species lives for an inhuman amount of time such as smaller or larger lifespans than 100 years, please give us an idea of the general lifespan of your species along with their individual age.) Species - (Fantasy Characters welcome. Human, Elf, Dwarf, Beastman preferred. Beastman encompasses anything that's part animal part human. No gods or aliens.) Gender - (Assuming your species has gender, List here.) Appearance - (Drawings, Anime pictures, Pixel art, and photos are all fine. Everyone has their own version of what their character looks like in whatever art form. Whatever it is, please include a brief or detailed worded description below the image for posterity sake.) Personality - (The psychological and mental habits of your character and adversely their species if they have any particular personality quirks that they inherit from their kind.) History - (Some may opt to remain mysterious. Some may opt to share this during the story. Either is fine. But if you wish to share, you can tell us about where your character came from and how they grew up. Feel free to make up your own home island if you want just be sure to describe it.) Equipment - (The weapons or armaments your character my possess at any given time. Also list what equipment your character is proficient with.) Powers - (See OOC. Powers are optional. Leave your character some room to grow. We'll be going places on this journey so leave some powers for your character to unlock or discover along the way. Or don't. It isn't necessary. Just makes the story more interesting if there's some yet to be unlocked potential in the cast.) Activity - (How often can you log in, what days/times are you available to post, and if you have any commitments that might take away from your time, how long will you be gone.) Extras - (Have I missed anything? Any tidbits you wanna include? I couldn't think of anything else to ask for in the moment so by all means put whatever you want here.) Character List Mira Streetwalker - Tybalt Capulet Zarpaden Volk - Polybius Yeva Darbinian - Rekaigan Gharn Werefang - Overlord Thraka Hayden Ventus - GrizzTheMauler Aedre Starling - Saquira --------

In a situation like she was presented, Mira had a few options. She could be honest, and simply say that she was tired, had had a long night, and hope that the men would leave off. She could also just ignore them, a tried-and-true method. She chose neither, sticking with her instinct that these men meant well and were simply feeling a bit boisterous. She shot them a wink and a cheeky smile, calling out "Oh, you flatterers! I'm almost tempted to accept!" She then said to the Dober-man barkeep, in a slightly less frivolous tone, "I'll have the pear brandy, if you would. The old gents over at the table there can cover it." A couple of thick silver coins were slid over for the barkeep's trouble, and to show that she was good for the drinks, even if the older men weren't willing to treat her. She fanned the smoke away from her face, then spun on her stool and looked out away from the bar, taking stock of its patrons. Normally, in a situation like this, Mira would spend time ingratiating herself to a table or two, so as to drum up some business, but at the moment, she was flush for cash, and felt that she deserved a bit of a rest. Her business, after all, kept one up later than most professions. As she surveyed the tavern and its occupants, she noticed a few distinctive points. The men she'd seen before in the back of the room were largely unfazed by her arrival, or at least, they hadn't made any audible comment. There didn't seem to be any other harlots present, at least not in the main eating area, which, combined with her speedy service, boded well for her finding a room for the night, should she decide to stay that long. Lastly, she noticed the drenched fellow she'd hurried past before. When she'd passed him, she hadn't really paid him any mind; he didn't look a threat, and was a bit too damp to interest her as a customer. Now that she got a look at him, though, she couldn't help but laugh to herself; the man was a mess, with seaweed still clinging to his boots, and hair exhibiting all the signs of saltwater exposure. She slid a couple more coins tot he Dober-Man, and said quietly "That soggy fellow looks like he's had a rough time of it. Could you give him something warming on me?" She wasn't usually a generous woman, but the weighty coin purse and the prospect of a night of real sleep, or at least a patron of her choice, had her feeling unusually wealthy.

Name - Mira Streetwalker Age - 22, though looks no older than 18. Species - 1/4 elf, 3/4 human. Gender - Female Appearance - Average height, lean hourglass figure, long red hair, light skin. Personality - Confident, take-charge, assertive. In any situation, likes to make it clear that even if she is not the leader, she isn't to be ignored or commanded. Constantly vigilant and on-guard. History - Born to a whore and an actor, she pursued her mother's profession with a passion, and eventually realized that a man with his pants down was quite vulnerable, especially to someone with the skills to take advantage of it. Since then, she has worked as a contract killer as well as a harlot, and derives pleasure from perfecting both arts. Despite her talent, she is quite unknown to most, which makes her jobs all the more simple. Equipment - Two long knives, makeup and hair/skin dye, anti-conception charms and drugs, steam-powered pistol, hidden in brassiere pocket. Powers - Expert seductress, skilled in assassination-style combat, but not in actual fighting. Activity - I can usually be on from about 10-12 Pacific time, as well as other times throughout the day, depending on how busy I am. I'm much more available during the week than on weekends.

Gharn is woken by the shouts of "Stowaways!" He jerks away from his position under several tarpaulins, placed in over a large amount of cargo in the hold to keep it dry. The young Werebeast rubs his eyes sleepily and sits up, his head making a obvious motion in the tarp. "Look dere! Anuvva one! C'mon lads! Dis one won' get away!" shouts a sailor as he sees the shift in the tarp Several sailors rush to the piles of tarps and yank them off. Gharn squints and shields his eyes from the light as he yawns. "Well, well, well, O've we got 'ere?!" shouts the rough looking man. "Go away human." grumbles Gharn as he fixes the men with a glare from startling blue eyes. "Ohhh! Dis'un finks hisself 'igh and mighty eh! We'll show him! C'mon lads! The cap'n don't need 'im conscious!" The man yanks a short club from his belt and leaps towards Gharn, grinning and yelling as the other men make haste to follow his example. Gharn growls and seems to swell in size. His ribcage cracks and expands, his arms grow longer as his shoulders broaden. His jaw malforms and thick yellow fur sprouts all over his body. His fingernails shift to claws and his jaw cracks as his teeth change shape into wicked canines. His spine lengthens as he sprouts a tail and his legs shift with a teeth-grinding noise into those of a giant cat. The man's club bounces harmlessly off of Gharn's forearm as he blocks the blow casually. The other men take several sharp steps back as the club-owner wets himself in fear, the giant were-lion towering over him, growling in annoyance. "I SAID. LEAVE. ME. ALONE." "Y-y-yer trespassin'! Y'ain't s'posed to be down 'ere wifout payin'" the man squeaks. His ability to speak up to the terrifying creature before him shows his courage as he does his best not to mess his pants any further. Gharn pauses to consider the statement and nods once. "I mean not dis-ree-spekt. I leave now. Not bother you again." He calmly strides past the man who faints on the spot. One of the bravest crew members grabs Gharn's arm as he passes "Hold it! You'z gotta com wif us!" his voice trembles but his grip is firm. Gharn slowly turns his head to the man and backhands him, sending him into a stack of barrels. "No human. I not go with you. Better things have I to do." he calmly walks out of the lowest deck, up towards the light of the sun. As his head rises from the hatch leading to the lower decks the crewmembers stop and stare at him in shock. He nods once to a few of them and calmly walks down the ramp to the docks and into the city. Once out of sight of the ship he changes back to human form and walks along the cobbles, taking in the amazing sights of the city he's never seen before. "So this is civilization" he mutters to himself, pondering a display of clocks in a shop window. "Odd. Humans very odd." He hears some jolly sounding hornpipe music from the nearby tavern and thinks to himself "Boneflutes! It has been too long since I heard their music!" and walks into the tavern. The sight of a young man, half-naked and tattooed, wearing leather breeches and a giant sword on his back seems to attract some attention...

Name – Gharn Werefang Age – 20 (Average age of species, about 140. Aging around half as fast as humans once they reach maturity) Species – Werelion Gender - Male Appearance – About 5’10”. Lean and muscular. Fairly handsome, though his looks are marred by 4 long scars down the left side of his face. He’s got tribal tattoos running down one arm and across the left side of his chest. His wereform is massive, a 9ft tall heavily muscled Werelion, his head shifts to that of a anthropomorphic lion and his legs change to cat-like ones. In this form he is capable of lifting nearly 1000s pounds and can tear a man’s head off with his bare paws He wears tribal breeches that somehow stretch when he shifts, along with several necklaces. He dislikes wearing shoes and doesn’t see the point in shirts. Personality - Proud, noble, firm, just, angry, violent, savage, shy, oblivious, brave, strong, kind. Gharn is a proud young man. He’s brave, loyal to a fault but often comes off as arrogant. He doesn’t think much of humans, as his culture views strength above all, and he thinks himself far stronger than any human After the events of his past, he’s become rather withdrawn, quiet and sometimes just downright unfriendly History – Gharn comes from a tribal culture of Werelions, unbeknownst to the rest of the world. There he learned his tribe’s ways and hunting. He learned the ways of a warrior, a hunter and a leader. When he was 15 he lost it all, his tribe was slain. Brutally slaughtered while he was helpless to stop it. He was made to watch as mercenaries, hunting after the pelts of his fellow tribsmen, slew his mother, father and took is baby sister away. They left him for dead, but he did not die. He survived in the jungle for another 5 years on his own, and is only just now making his way out of it, towards civilization and to go after the men who took his sister and killed his tribe Equipment – He wields a massive broadsword. Far to heavy to lift in human form he can only use it in his wereform. For combat while human he uses a shortsword and hide shield Powers – Shapeshifting. Gharn is a Werelion. He is able to shift between his Wereform and human form whenever he pleases. In Wereform he has enormous strength and great physical prowess Activity – I can post multiple times a day. I’m on all the time. Extras – Gharn has never ‘mated’ and is very shy and easily embarrassed around women he finds attractive. A few notes on the rules of Gharn's culture. His was a tribal kind, based on two elements that the tribals held above all: Honor and Strength. Due to this along with the beliefs that if someone loses their honor, then they don't get into the afterlife, Gharn is forced to do the following He will not lie, at all, even about the smallest thing. He can choose to remain silent, but if he answers then he must tell the truth to any questions he's asked. If someone loses his honor, then they are usually put to death in a ceremony. Seeing as Gharn has no tribe however, he is considered a Narmweir, meaning 'last-kin'. If he loses his honor he is expected to commit suicide. A Narmweir is generally considered bad luck, and aren't usually allowed into a new tribe. Challenges are sacred, not to be ignored. There are two kinds, fights to the death and fights for domination. In a fight to the death, then the goal and end result are obvious. The loser dies and goes to the afterlife, honor fulfilled. The winner lives (probably), his honor increased through victory, earning him trinkets and higher stances in the tribe. If somehow both live, then both lose all honor, the loser for not dying when he was supposed to, the winner for not killing his foe. They will not get into the afterlife and instead wander as spirits forever when they are put to death. In a fight for domination the goal is to beat your opponent into submission, no weapons are allowed in this fight. Win the winner is declared, the loser is forced to either give the winner every object he/she owns, or become the winners slave for 7 years but keep their belongings. There are restrictions on the slavery however, the winner cannot make the slave hurt themselves or their family, they may not command the slave to do a task that would lead to the slave's death and males may not ask female slaves to mate with them. The last one was created several generations before Gharn's birth as one Werelion challenged, beat and took nearly all the women in his tribe as slave-wives. Finally Gharn is only 20, meaning he is not quite a full adult in the eyes of his culture, therefor he is not allowed to eat human flesh (a delicacy among his people) or mate with another of his kin with the intent of creating a child.

Yeva Darbinian Port Runeria was a place that Yeva hadn't visited in a long time, primarily due to her occupation in the workshop, but also because the family rarely made personal visits here. The trade was always good, but the same couldn't be said about the local populace and those who frequented it, which is why her family opted to use third party traders to ship their goods. It was probably her family's fault the place was so dangerous. The Aurora Ferry was nothing too amazing. It was just a ship. A vehicle for traveling from point A to point B. If she were to say it, she would get an earful from the captains that ran them. Something about how wonderful his 'sea lady' is. Sometimes Yeva was quite glad that she couldn't speak, or else she'd probably get into a lot of trouble for muttering something snarky under her breath. Everyone on this ferry were most likely drunkards considering the way they talked and walked, but as long as they didn't try anything funny with her, everything would be just fine. As the ship landed at the port, loud noises came from the deck below. Apparently there were a few stowaways on board, nothing new about that. She never thought that Stowaways were much of a problem, then again, she wasn't in the business of making people pay to move places. After a while of bashing and clanging noises, she heard something fall into the water. Probably the stowaway. They were usually slippery people to say the least. They were probably less dangerous than the workers on board in all honesty. The gunsmith watched on as a great beastman climbed out of a hatch and walked off the ship, everyone staring in awe. She didn't know what was so great about beast people, but she made it a note to learn about them some time. As the commotion simmered down, Yeva calmly got off the ship, her boots making soft clop sounds as she walked across the plank. Upon entering the tavern, she was assaulted with the strong smell of alcohol, sweat and.. something else she couldn't describe. It was gross nonetheless. The music, however, was good enough to make her stick around. Adjusting the rifle slung over her shoulder, she bee-lined for the bar counter, swiftly walking passed the half naked man with the giant sword. As she approached the bar, she noticed a woman saying something quietly to the Dober-Man, whom she now knew was the barkeep. The woman looked mostly human, but Yeva noticed a few elvish features about her. She was quite beautiful after all. Yeva shook her head to clear her thoughts; she was allowed to enjoy the company of nice looking things, right? She waited patiently for the woman to finish whatever she was saying before walking up to the counter, placing a single coin on the table, as she held up her index finger signifying the number 'one' before gesturing to herself. As if to say 'One drink for me.' Hopefully the beastman knew what she was on about.

Name: Yeva Darbinian Age: 26 Species: Human Gender: Female Appearance: Yeva stands at a height of 5'7" and can be described as rather lean in build. She's rather average in terms of looks, according to most, so she doesn't really stand out in a crowd. She possesses tattoos that wrap around both arms and connect at her shoulder blades. These tattoos are reminiscent of circuits, but what they really represent is a mystery to everyone other than her family. (Refer to image) she doesn't wear anything that makes her stand out other than the choker she wears around her neck which has a small 'brooch-like' attachment that is a bullet shaped signet, her family symbol. Personality: Many say that Yeva is a very quiet individual. They're not wrong, but it's for a different reason. Yeva is mute. She can't speak. Aside from this 'minor' disability, she's a very reliable person and can be loyal enough to not abandon people without a second thought. She's awfully pragmatic, but it doesn't stop her from being sentimental at times. Her internal monologue, however, is quite cynical. Sometimes she can come off as quite cocky or blunt in her gestures. She gets easily frustrated when people don’t understand what she’s trying to tell them, but it’s not really their fault that she can’t talk. History: Born into a family of Gunsmiths, Yeva spent the majority of her life in the workshop, helping her parents put together and test their latest creations. Yeva grew, first as a gunsmith, second as a marksman. The Darbinian family, although more famously known for their firearms, were also exceptional mercenary marksmen. Throughout history, their family had been at the forefront of weapons technology, creating the first of many clockwork and steam-powered firearms, the most amazing of which being a combination of steam power and clockwork, the Pressure rifle; the first sniper rifle. Yeva now lives as a traveler, a mercenary, a gun for hire. Carrying the family name with pride. Equipment: A modified Pressure rifle, a steam-powered pistol, ink and quill, varying amounts of parchment, extra ammunition, and some smoke bombs. Powers: Yeva has the power to summon, however this power has only just been discovered by herself. She’s an agile person and an incredible marksman, but her abilities in CQC are very limited. Activity: Online every night between 8pm-12am (GMT+8). I’m currently studying, so I might get really busy at times. I should be able to post regularly though. Extras: - The Darbininan crest is that of a single bullet - As stated before, the Darbinian family is famous throughout the continent. However they are also feared for the same reason. Double crossing a Darbinian is usually a terrible idea. - The Darbinian family isn't actually aligned to anyone, remaining as a type of neutral mercenary faction in their own right to avoid politics and pursue research. - Yeva uses written words to communicate most of the time. - The Pressure rifle has a scope, but it’s just a line of magnifying lens

Hayden Hayden was one of the last off the ship, haven fallen asleep in his room. He was awakened by some yelling and groggily gathered his things and strapped on his shield to his back. He fixed himself up in the mirror and rolled his shoulders. "Well hayden, got yourself in a right good mess, eh?" A knock on the door sounded and he opened it revealing a well built crewman who told him they'd docked. Mumbling his affirmations to the other man's amusement, Hayden took his leave. Making sure he had his Writ in his secret pocket. He had several with his gold and family crest. But he doughted the latter would mean much now... He was on the run from them. From her. He made his way above deck and breathed in the smell of the sea. His otter instincts told him that he should go swim, play in the water. But he knew that it was probably really dirty around these parts. Walking the gangplank he noted a flash of color and saw the market. He almost instantly started drooling at the smells as he walked towards it. Grabbing some fresh fish, smoky rainbow bass which was his favorite, he walked towards the destination the others had reached before him. He finished his fish before he entered the pub, a smile on his face. He weaved his way through the crowd. He spotted the mar and made his way towards it when he noticed someone there. "Yeva..." He recognized her and walked over, waving. "Yeva!" He was grinning as he took a seat next to the smaller woman. He asked the barkeep for a mug of hot cider, spiced if at all possible.

Name - Imperial Vice Captain Hayden Ventus of the Army, Engineering Division Age - 23 Species - Half Otterkin Gender - Male Appearance - Tall and tanky: 6'4. Hayden has a tail and some fur on his chest and arms. His ears have stud piercings. Personality - Hayden was brought up as a noble, but often left to his own devices. He is caring and thoughtful, usually seen smiling and laughing. It takes him a while to open up, but when he does, he's extremely loyal and won't hesitate to take a bullet for a friend. History - Hayden is a part of the Ventus line. A family that is synonymous with the World military. He however is lesser known as being the youngest, and because he hasn't achieved much, since he prefers to tinker with his few friends in Engineering. He is also viewed as a failure to his parents by he family for the fact that he has not gained any of his parent's Bloodline Traits. Both the Ventus nd the Xerces(his mother's family) are known for their Traits. They.. Arranged the marriage of Hayden's parents to strengthen their lines. Hayden's two older siblings have one of their parent's Trait, but even after failing his Trails twice, Hayden hasn't shown any indication he'll activate his power. Hayden was left to pretty much do as he wanted afterwards. An utsider would say thet he lived in a chaotic home. His parents have no love for each other, and there was never a time when they did. They are almost polar opposites with his father being a loud and brash man who won't be denied something he wants, and his mother is a rather gentle soul, who has grown cold from his father's treatment. In his family, only his grandfather, Admiral Kensington of the Imperial Army, has ever shown him real kindness. He's the reason he was able to join the Engineering Corps. His grandfather is also the reason he was able to run away from the forced marriage he faces. He figures if he can help get the Goddess Shard back, he will be able to get out of the forced marriage with his Grandfather's support. Equipment -He carries a sword, a high powered crossbow and a shield. He also has enough bandages and medical supplies to deal with moth wounds, a practice gained because the Engineering Corps can be dangerous. His weapons all have etchings for his runes. He also has a Writ of Absence from his Grandfather, which enabled his escape. Powers - Runic Enchanting: Hayden is a decent enchanter. He is able to give his weapons increased force or fire damage. His bloodline Trait is currently inactive. Activity - I'm on pretty much every night after work and sometime on in the morning if I wake up early. Extras - Hayden prefers men. When women come on to him he is rather unsure of wha to do. He also can't really talk well to guys he finds attractive becoming quite shy. Because of this he's never had sex and doesn't even know how it works. His fiancé was Lady Duvenia Quentin, the daughter of General Poitr Quentin. He also likes to eat. A lot.

Scarlet curtains behind the band shifted as the melody that strummed and hummed from their instruments died down. Dainty fair skinned fingers painted in sparkly alabaster nail polish emerged from the center of the curtains velvet folds, gently pulling them apart. Emerging onto the small stage was a small brunette woman with colorful patterns painted and tattooed all over her delicate looking body. A white rosary corset accompanied by a tight fitting frilled dress cut slanted from her right lower thigh to just above her left knee accentuated gentle curves. White fishnet stockings held up by ribbons and garters ran down her legs and into a pair of pearly stilettos which tapped lightly against the wooden floorboards of the stage. A few cheers and fair amount of cat calling rose from some of the crowd within the tavern as by some mysticism the lanterns and candles everywhere but around the stage died down. Sharing a quick look and a few grins between each other, the musicians quickly began a new melody, to which the elegant young woman began to sing. "Whatever you say doll face." Responded the doberman barkeep as Mira listed her wishes. With a small gesture of two fingers, he signaled one of the bar waitresses toward the soggy man with a platter of ale shots as he stood amongst the crowds, before laying his hand down on the coins and pulling them into his other hand. "We'll just say this is a tip then and call it square." Piercing brown eyes began to glow yellow as objects in the bar behind him began to move on their own. Knives danced through the air, slicing through an orange and a lemon that levitated from a woven basket next to the sink. Thin strips fell from the two fruit landing promptly in a chilled glass thinly veiled in frost. While all this happened, he fluidly moved along the shelves and swiftly grabbed a tall thin bottle of clear liquid, picking it out from the dozens of others as if he'd done it a millions times. The sweet and stinging scent of the pear brandy gently wafted through the air as a cork popped loose of the bottles head. Promptly turning back toward voluptuous woman, the doberman tipped the brandy down, pouring it before Mira's eyes into the thick frigid glass that slid across the counter to catch the liquor. He drew back just in time to fill the contents to just below its brim before smoothly and hastily returning the bottle to its place. A small paper umbrella wrapped with a small decorative orange peel twirled down from the rafters, dropping perfectly onto the edge of the drink. "Enjoy." Said the hound headed bartender in a monotone voice before swiftly moving to the next customer. Effortlessly gliding along behind the bar, floating bottles of rum and ale lifted in the wake of the bartender, refilling the drinks of wanting patrons who sat at his counter. Any that were finished had their empty glasses and mugs lifted into the air and withdrawn into one of several sinks and patterned the curving wall behind the counter. "And what'll you be havin sweetpea?" Growled the bartender as he came to a halt in front of Yeva, a trail of cigar smoke leaking from his maw. An hand absently straightened his tie and vest before impatiently laying down on the gnarled counter top. "Chop chop." Heavy footsteps rattled against the wooden boardwalk as uniformed boots marched off the docks and onto the cobbled streets of New Runeria. Groups of pedestrians and tourists alike cleared a path, hastily backing out of the way of the road as a platoon of soldiers dressed in matching white, blue, and gold made their way through the town. "Split up and search everywhere. Turn this place upside down if you have to. Find that stone!"

Character Compendium Sheet format Name - (last and middle being optional. Feel free to include any nicknames or titles.) Age - (If your species lives for an inhuman amount of time such as smaller or larger lifespans than 100 years, please give us an idea of the general lifespan of your species along with their individual age.) Species - (Fantasy Characters welcome. Human, Elf, Dwarf, Beastman preferred. Beastman encompasses anything that's part animal part human. No gods or aliens.) Gender - (Assuming your species has gender, List here.) Appearance - (Drawings, Anime pictures, Pixel art, and photos are all fine. Everyone has their own version of what their character looks like in whatever art form. Whatever it is, please include a brief or detailed worded description below the image for posterity sake.) Personality - (The psychological and mental habits of your character and adversely their species if they have any particular personality quirks that they inherit from their kind.) History - (Some may opt to remain mysterious. Some may opt to share this during the story. Either is fine. But if you wish to share, you can tell us about where your character came from and how they grew up. Feel free to make up your own home island if you want just be sure to describe it.) Equipment - (The weapons or armaments your character my possess at any given time. Also list what equipment your character is proficient with.) Powers - (See OOC. Powers are optional. Leave your character some room to grow. We'll be going places on this journey so leave some powers for your character to unlock or discover along the way. Or don't. It isn't necessary. Just makes the story more interesting if there's some yet to be unlocked potential in the cast.) Activity - (How often can you log in, what days/times are you available to post, and if you have any commitments that might take away from your time, how long will you be gone.) Extras - (Have I missed anything? Any tidbits you wanna include? I couldn't think of anything else to ask for in the moment so by all means put whatever you want here.) Character List Mira Streetwalker - Tybalt Capulet Zarpaden Volk - Polybius Yeva Darbinian - Rekaigan Gharn Werefang - Overlord Thraka Hayden Ventus - GrizzTheMauler Aedre Starling - Saquira --------

Zarpaden Volk "Compliments of the lady at the bar, Sir!" said the waitress. Zarpaden smiled widely and grabbed the whole tray of drinks. "Thanks!" he said stepping past the puzzled looking waitress. The band started a new number, a swinging standard lead by a beaut of a lady in a frilly dress. Zarpaden drank the ale shots one by one as he waded through the crowd, each drink relieving some of the pain in his head and body. Plucking the last drink from the tray, he discarded it on a table, snagged a burning stoagie and stuck it in his mouth. He inhaled deeply, grimaced and spat the cigar back out. "Dreadful!" he said to nobody in particular. The cigar was quickly trampled underfoot of the crowd. Finally, reaching the bar he plopped down next to the lady with long red hair. "My thanks dear!" said Zarpaden admiring her lean hourglass figure. "Do I know you?" he continued, but the barkeep had her enraptured with his drink preparation. "Nevermind..." Besides, the noise of the tavern and the catchy tune of the houseband, Zarpaden could hardly hear his own voice. Instead he surveyed the crowd, fingering the hilt of his longsword on his hip. The crowd was a mixture of odd characters and races. Half-elves, beastmen and Imperial officers drank and laughed. Zarpaden noticed the girl with the Darbinian family crest and he shuddered. The Darbinians were well known to be ruthless and professional, and Zarpaden had heard stories of their efficiency in dealing with certain people. ..edit..

tldr; sword slinger for hire. Nasty temper. Greedy. Name - Zarpaden Volk Age - 29 Species - Human Gender - Male Appearance- A lithe man of imposing stature, armed to the teeth with saber, knives, brass knuckles and whatever else he can get his hands on. Zarpaden is ruggedly handsome, although he is often in need of a shower and shave. Long wavy black hair tied carelessly in a ponytail in the fashion of pirates. A strong jaw and a nose just a bit too big for his features. Black eyes and the tanned complexion of a man that has seen many a day at sea. He wears a loose white tunic that may have once been presentable. Black trousers and a scarlet sash over his leather belt. Brown salt-crusted boots with a dagger or two tucked in. Personality - Just as quick to grin as he is to anger, Zarpaden is an adventurer at heart, eager to make a quick buck for whoever is paying the highest. Shallow, self-involved and often the first into the fight. History - Zarpaden has made the rounds as a mercenary, sometimes pirate and seaman. He has also served in some minor militias where the fighting was thickest. A typical small town orphan who fled to the grander cities when he could find his own way. (Will add more details as the RP progresses) Equipment - Longsword, 3x Daggers, Water Flask, Rum Flask, 5 days rations, Parchment, Ink, Quill, spare boots, rope, string, a few odd coins from distant kingdoms. Powers - Solid martial prowess with swords and firearms including larger guns. Capable seaman and navigator, negotiator (lots of contacts around the more nefarious ports and towns) and haggler. Activity - Mon-Thurs: After 9 or 10 EST. Sundays After 9 EST. Extras - nah. Maybe...nah, not yet.

Gharn stared around at the strange place for several seconds, taking it all in. His nose wrinkles at the stench of unwashed bodies, stale alcohol and the stink of tobacco smoke. He coughs as someone blows smoke almost into his face and stumbles towards the bar. He growls in annoyance and glares over his shoulder at the offender, who seems unbothered by the dirty look from the young scarred man. Gharn growls again, now in a bad mood as he watches the band and woman change style. He eyes the woman for a moment, well distracted. He listens to the music for a moment before growling and clapping his hands over his ears, unused to the odd sounds. "What is this place!?" he grumbles to himself. He notices a number of wet footprints on the ground and frowns, remembering the shouts and the splash from when he was awoken on the ship. He follows the footsteps to their owner. He frowns at Zarpadan curiously, not noticing Mira at first. "You. You were on ship?... Aurora Ferry yes? You-" His gaze shifts to the stunning beauty sitting next to the soaked gentleman. His eyes glance over her form, resting momentarily on her chest before going back to her face. "P-pardon. Not meaning to interrupt. I go, we talk later wet-man." He turns, rather flustered by the low-cut of Mira's dress and not wanting to hang around her, lest he embarrass himself.

Name – Gharn Werefang Age – 20 (Average age of species, about 140. Aging around half as fast as humans once they reach maturity) Species – Werelion Gender - Male Appearance – About 5’10”. Lean and muscular. Fairly handsome, though his looks are marred by 4 long scars down the left side of his face. He’s got tribal tattoos running down one arm and across the left side of his chest. His wereform is massive, a 9ft tall heavily muscled Werelion, his head shifts to that of a anthropomorphic lion and his legs change to cat-like ones. In this form he is capable of lifting nearly 1000s pounds and can tear a man’s head off with his bare paws He wears tribal breeches that somehow stretch when he shifts, along with several necklaces. He dislikes wearing shoes and doesn’t see the point in shirts. Personality - Proud, noble, firm, just, angry, violent, savage, shy, oblivious, brave, strong, kind. Gharn is a proud young man. He’s brave, loyal to a fault but often comes off as arrogant. He doesn’t think much of humans, as his culture views strength above all, and he thinks himself far stronger than any human After the events of his past, he’s become rather withdrawn, quiet and sometimes just downright unfriendly History – Gharn comes from a tribal culture of Werelions, unbeknownst to the rest of the world. There he learned his tribe’s ways and hunting. He learned the ways of a warrior, a hunter and a leader. When he was 15 he lost it all, his tribe was slain. Brutally slaughtered while he was helpless to stop it. He was made to watch as mercenaries, hunting after the pelts of his fellow tribsmen, slew his mother, father and took is baby sister away. They left him for dead, but he did not die. He survived in the jungle for another 5 years on his own, and is only just now making his way out of it, towards civilization and to go after the men who took his sister and killed his tribe Equipment – He wields a massive broadsword. Far to heavy to lift in human form he can only use it in his wereform. For combat while human he uses a shortsword and hide shield Powers – Shapeshifting. Gharn is a Werelion. He is able to shift between his Wereform and human form whenever he pleases. In Wereform he has enormous strength and great physical prowess Activity – I can post multiple times a day. I’m on all the time. Extras – Gharn has never ‘mated’ and is very shy and easily embarrassed around women he finds attractive. A few notes on the rules of Gharn's culture. His was a tribal kind, based on two elements that the tribals held above all: Honor and Strength. Due to this along with the beliefs that if someone loses their honor, then they don't get into the afterlife, Gharn is forced to do the following He will not lie, at all, even about the smallest thing. He can choose to remain silent, but if he answers then he must tell the truth to any questions he's asked. If someone loses his honor, then they are usually put to death in a ceremony. Seeing as Gharn has no tribe however, he is considered a Narmweir, meaning 'last-kin'. If he loses his honor he is expected to commit suicide. A Narmweir is generally considered bad luck, and aren't usually allowed into a new tribe. Challenges are sacred, not to be ignored. There are two kinds, fights to the death and fights for domination. In a fight to the death, then the goal and end result are obvious. The loser dies and goes to the afterlife, honor fulfilled. The winner lives (probably), his honor increased through victory, earning him trinkets and higher stances in the tribe. If somehow both live, then both lose all honor, the loser for not dying when he was supposed to, the winner for not killing his foe. They will not get into the afterlife and instead wander as spirits forever when they are put to death. In a fight for domination the goal is to beat your opponent into submission, no weapons are allowed in this fight. Win the winner is declared, the loser is forced to either give the winner every object he/she owns, or become the winners slave for 7 years but keep their belongings. There are restrictions on the slavery however, the winner cannot make the slave hurt themselves or their family, they may not command the slave to do a task that would lead to the slave's death and males may not ask female slaves to mate with them. The last one was created several generations before Gharn's birth as one Werelion challenged, beat and took nearly all the women in his tribe as slave-wives. Finally Gharn is only 20, meaning he is not quite a full adult in the eyes of his culture, therefor he is not allowed to eat human flesh (a delicacy among his people) or mate with another of his kin with the intent of creating a child.