Alfhedil

Heroes Reborn: Prime Earth (Superhero/Urban Fantasy: OPEN)

January 3rd 08:00 EST
New York City, New York - Farmer's Boulevard Spirits

Morning traffic in New York always tended to work one into a mood, even if road rage wasn't exactly a normal tendency. For Donovan Breen though, it was inspiring. Both hands gripped the steering wheel of the 32 foot box-truck, knuckles turning white as he resisted the urge to at the very least shout at the stupid fuck who just cut him off- "Watch where the fuck yer going stupid fuckin' tosser!" There it was, his fist shaking out the window as a honk sounded in return and the driver in question gave him the single-finger salute. Now he could feel his blood pounding, a slight twitch to his eyes as he took in a deep breath and tried to ignore his brothers arguing in the back of the truck. That had been going on for the last hour and honestly he had just about had enough, tempted to pull the truck over and shoot both of them. Yet they had a job to do, and unfortunately this job needed Angus' rather unique skill set.

The brother in question was sitting there in what little room was available, cigar in mouth and open bottle of whiskey on the floorboards next to him. Once Donovan might have been concerned about his brother's decision to smoke while he worked, but long ago he decided that if God were to take him from him in that way, he would just hope not to be next to him. Of the three, while he may have been the least likely to be suspected of some kind of violence at first glance, he just so happened to be nearing the top of the FBI's watchlist due to his so-called shenanigans. Angus was only being watched at the moment because he was merely suspected of having a role in a dozen bank robberies over the last decade, all involving thermite or explosives of some kind. Regardless of his supposed involvement in major crimes, he was likely the smartest Irishman most would meet, even if that's not saying much for some, and he did know what he was doing.

Next to him and scratching at the mess he called a beard was the other Breen, Patrick. Compared to Angus he might as well have been a rock for all he had rattling around in his head, but each of the brothers had a purpose and they rarely did a job without one of the others around. And if there was one thing that he knew how to do and did well, it was act as the muscle. He was probably the only one of the brothers to have an actual warrant out for his arrest as well. It was well deserved of course, he had very nearly beaten that police officer to death, and that wasn't even touching the six armed robbery charges, the fourteen assaults and the three actual murders. If Donovan didn't know any better he might think that the youngest brother actually enjoyed it.

"Look Paddy, I'm just saying that with a skirt like that I bet she keeps it nice and smooth. Like a feckin slip and slide if you get my drift."

"Oh I git yer drift alright, but ye cannae tell me that there's not the slightest possibility of her being an absolute freak."

All the while as they argued over the personal hygiene choices of prominent female heroes, Angus was tinkering with the job in his lap. The job of course being the warhead to a rocket. A rather large rocket at that, being the almost sixty-five pound ammunition for the launcher taking up most of the space within the truck. Donovan was probably the lucky one for this, and considering he was the boss of the local branch of the Irish Mafia, he banked this one on "Executive Privilege." Horseshit as both younger brothers called it, but he wasn't about to be set ablaze because he depended on Angus' "Ingenuity" as he liked to say. Really all the youngest of the Breen's was, was an overly patriotic kid for a country he wasn't even born in and trying to prove himself to a bunch of wankers overseas. In truth it was their grandfather and father who were the real hardasses of the family, the former serving in the last world war, and the latter taking it to the brits for the homeland.

It was part of how they were able to get their hands on this kind of hardware, shipped overseas in pieces and reassembled earlier in the week for the job that would put them back on the map. Yes, this would cement the Breen name in NYC history, and that thought alone was enough to settle not just his doubts on how crispy he might be once that big bastard launched, but also kept him calm enough until finally they pulled up to the spot. Farmer's Boulevard Spirits, a regular stop for the legitimate side of their gang. Of course, they had already done a delivery two days ago and weren't due for two more, but no one would be paying attention enough to really notice so slight a detail as that… Except perhaps for the real reason why they were here. Just down the street facing the back of the truck was the local Chinese Hand laundromat, and one of their main distribution centers for drugs and cash. Donovan could almost smell the sweet scent of charred heroin and burning cash now…

"Now the fast one though, oh man she's got the thighs to die for. Yeah sure she's not rocking the skirt and bare legs anymore, but even if you put pants on cake it's still cake."

"Yer a damn loon Angus, she'll give yer dick rugburn, and that's if the lass would even touch yer dumbass. Now that Sol on the other hand…"

"I'm the loon? I'm the loon?! Fer feck's sake Paddy, she'd crush you without even trying!"

"If only I could be so lucky…"

"Oi cunts!"

Donovan's shout was accompanied by the banging of his fist against the plywood separator between the cab and the cargo area, turning back to stare at his idiot brothers. "Truck's parked, so git yer shite together."

---

Meanwhile, just down the road with quite a bit less swearing, vulgarity and Irishness the Triad was doing business as usual. Above were the residents of the local neighborhood making nice with Madam Mao as she did the normal routine of giving out her 'sagely' advice and checking in with her neighbors. Never mind that one of them was a local hero, who the Madam was quite aware of and always did her best to appear as the doting elder that she played part-time as. It wasn't entirely an act though, as Robert Mao knew quite well and as did many of the local Triad members. The Madam as they called her, considered most of the gang as part of her extended family and that meant that any time one of them was in trouble she would be there to do her part. It also meant that they were subject to her full wrath if they happened to screw something up for the "family", but no one really paid too much mind to that.

At least Robert didn't, and once more as he went over the current business of the day his thoughts turned to matters of family. His own, that is. He took the stairs from the basement, handing off his clipboard with today's numbers on it and informed the crew he would be taking a quick break for a smoke. Madam Mao hated smoking, said it was a westerner thing and that it rotted his spirit just as it did his lungs, and as much as she was probably right he just couldn't kick the habit.

"I'm going out front for a smoke Mother."

His comment drew an exasperated sigh from the old woman, turning away from the pink-haired hero as she was about to go into another tirade against him, but seemed to think better of it. Maybe it was that she felt it wouldn't have any effect, or maybe she didn't want to seem like a bitter old crone from the far east hating the country she lived in to Sol. Robert made no fuss over it just as his mother didn't, resting a hand on her shoulder and promising to return in just a moment.

"My son, Robert." She said once he was out the front door, bell at the top ringing. "More American than some Americans, and certainly speaks English better than some of those kids I've heard running around in the afternoon. Says to me that he wants to leave New York, can you believe that? Married this Kansas girl who always talks about how much she loves the countryside. Sweet thing, works as a nurse in one of the hospitals, you know the type, one of the ones who does it for those in need."

As she spoke, coming up beside Sol and taking a lean against the counter, some discussion was underway down below in the basement. Mostly in the way of what product was being moved where, and some of those places most certainly not being Triad territory. With the relative quiet of some of the larger gangs of the city, the Triad had been rumored to be making moves, just the same as those moves were also rumored to be well and truly stirring the shit in New York. Sooner or later one of the others would have had enough, and raised voices down below made it seem like not only was the Triad prepared for such an eventuality, but that they were working towards it. Of course, most people in the laundromat couldn't hear over the machines constantly running, only one might be able to and the Madam stood beside her continuing on about her son.

"Robert, my dear son Robert, confided in me that he actually wants to leave the family business entirely and start a restaurant out west." Nothing too out of the ordinary for a family of immigrants from China- "Tells me that he can't stand our food and wants to fry chicken." Oh.

The son in question currently stood out front, quite unaware of his mother decrying his choices, but thinking of them nonetheless. He had been saving for a good few years now, worked on his credit applications and felt it wouldn't be too long before he would be able to say goodbye to the city and head west. A long draw warmed his body against the cool January air, the cloud of steam rising from his lips as he held the cigarette there for a moment and remained pensive. His thoughts were interrupted by the trundle of a large box truck working its way down the road towards the intersection. This time of morning it wasn't unusual of course, most businesses were receiving their deliveries and had already been open for a couple hours if not getting ready to do so. What struck the man was to whom the truck belonged. As it passed by he got a glimpse of the driver, an irishman who seemed like he took eight or nine punches too many in the last pub-brawl.

It was a face most of the local Triad were familiar with, that of Donovan Breen the head of the local Irish Mafia. What he was doing here this early in the morning was anyone's guess, but already Robert was feeling a little suspicious as the truck made the turn down the road facing the laundromat and pulled up in front of the local liquor store. A slow puff of the cigarette in his mouth accompanied his thoughts, working on what kind of angle could possibly be had. There was the logo of the 'legitimate' shipping company for the mafia, a rather vulgar interpretation of irish folklore depicting a leprechaun riding something called a butfor. After a few moments he simply shook his head and dismissed the thoughts, returning to those of his future culinary pursuits.

He didn't have long, as before half of the cigarette was gone the door to the truck opened and the vague outline of a large mechanism within could be seen with two men operating it in the confined space of the cargo area. It was almost comical in a sense, so much stuffed in that truck that there was barely room to move, and he would have laughed if he wasn't confused as to what it was they had managed to smuggle into town this time. If he had been a little more familiar with such things, he might have recognized the distinct shape of eight rockets sitting in the rack, steadily lining up with the glass front of the laundromat he was smoking in front of. Then came the bright flash of fire against the back of the truck, one by one each of those rockets firing and screaming down the street. In slow motion the cigarette fell from his lips, eyes going wide as he watched the cluster of eight powering towards him and the laundromat. There was no time for any sort of warning, all he could do was watch as a yellow-painted warhead passed right by his face and punched through the glass.

Almost as soon as it did it hit the back of the laundromat, landing in an open front-load dryer and detonating with enough force alone to bring the building down. The bow-wave of explosive force shattered the windows of the store, sending glass shrapnel ahead of the flame, and launching Robert Mao off his feet and across the street. Then came the explosions and the world screamed back into full motion as the laundromat went up in flames, as did the two businesses on either side, and burying the basement with everyone inside.

---

January 2nd, 12:05 PM (EST)
North of Atlanta, Georgia - Side of US Highway

Chaos did truly work in mysterious ways, or at least that was what she thought at first. It had been ten years since she lost pretty much everything she knew except her powers and the League, and they were better at saving people from physical danger than emotional as she found. Sure, for a bit she held out hope. There had been people coming in along both coasts from Central City, claiming to have escaped the destruction, and each time she had been there expecting… What could she really have expected? Every tale of heroes told about how they had to make sacrifices, and in those early years she thought she could be the exception. So it was that eventually, though she put on the same smile, she steadily lost hope. To the point where when someone showed up out of nowhere on the back of a friend, as cold a friendship as it was at this point, she doubted.

Doubt was what put her sister on the bench as she worked through every little possibility. She had gained a sense for chaotic magic over the years, and though it was nothing close to that of a proper demon or mage, this girl had a feeling of it about her that she couldn't shake. Not to mention the sheer coincidence of showing up just after being confronted by the spooky german. Next thing she expected Duncan to turn into a werewolf or something, maybe make an off-color joke about peaches and finding her in… Okay, she might have set herself up for that one and really couldn't fault anyone for that. Still, it felt weird and then… Then it got weirder.

She watched as all of a sudden her sister's hands started to vibrate, then energy sparked from them all around her. Being what she was, she knew what speed-force looked like and could see it coursing through the girl's body. Quite suddenly she remembered what her first time was like, ending up almost two counties over and more than a little confused as to what actually happened. Verra started to reach out, trying to get a warning out but found herself once again too slow as she had taken too much time thinking things through to act. With the quickness of a speedster just manifesting, the girl went from the bench and forward a dozen meters within the blink of an eye for any normal person. Then… Then she stopped quite suddenly, with the assistance of a brick wall.

"Hey! Language."

Verra was quick to scowl and point at Champ, finger wagging in his direction as she heard his curse and sighed. While the canuckistani could be rather endearing at times, difficult to reason with at others, and of course there was the whole thing with their last conversation… He had not once lied to her or anyone she knew of. Truly a boyscout. An alien one, but still a boyscout. She sighed again and pressed her palm to her forehead, fingers running through her vibrant red locks as she thought about it. If there was anyone left who knew her and her sister, it would have been him considering the connection they had before all this went down. So that meant… Well, first before she got hopeful, the girl had just knocked herself out cold with her first dose of speedforce. Everything else could wait until she was awake and aware.

"Okay. So, that's Lexi then. We uh… Should probably get her to a place less public and sort things out, people are staring."

ＦＩＮＡＬ ＦＡＮＴＡＳＹ Ｘ｜Ｖ： Ｔｈｅ Ｂｌｅｓｓｅｄ Ｔｗｅｌｖｅ

---

"Halone… I know you're the Fury and all, but this disciple would greatly appreciate a little less of that right now…"

Somehow, some way she had managed to make it into the Quicksands before the bell, and before a few others in order to ascertain the company that she may or may not be joining with. It had taken what felt like hours just to slip into basic clothing, the fabric like razorweed across her forearms and shoulders. Each motion stung almost as bad as a Morbol smelled, and getting her armor on was a feat and a half considering she was working with plate by herself. Yet she did somehow manage. She did find some way to finagle herself into her proper adventuring armor, the simple plates attended to the night before as best she could considering the circumstances. At least none who were present had been there a few hours before to hear the exhausted thud of metal breastplate meeting table, and the agonized sigh to follow as the blonde Highlander accepted her fate.

The waitress at least was kind enough to inform her that those there for the Blessed Twelve were given drinks on the house within reason. A couple who had succeeded her chose to partake of that a little liberally, but Isabella thought it best to be restrained for now and keep to cool water. It helped a little with the heated sensations of her skin against the fabric underlayers of her armor, and especially with the flush to her cheeks. Her father had once given her advice on that in particular, she now remembered much to her detriment and failing pride, that the only thing worse than a full-body sunburn, was one on the face. At least she had her sunglasses to keep her eyes hidden, and the bandana around her forehead to cover up as much as she could. Then again, it could always be worse. She could be here joining up with a Free Company that was little more than a name and hope...

Once more she cursed Halone quietly, soft sigh bubbling into her glass of water as she listened to her fellow Hyur, a woman named Lyveva it seemed, and the leader of the Blessed Twelve. Part of her wondered how it was that information five years old could linger for so long, but then she spoke of Cartenau and she couldn't hide the flinch of shame. She had no part in that battle, nor did most of her kinsmen, something that left a bitter taste in the mouths of those who survived the Calamity regardless of how far reaching it had been. Nevermind that most of Coerthas had frozen over, or that the Dravanians had been relentless in their assault upon the Holy See. Ishgard had refused the call to arms. Ishgard had refused to stand with Eorzea at Cartenau. And to many, it felt as if Ishgard had refused to stand against Garlemald. That one stung particularly hard, as no small few accused her people of cowardice in the least, and many seemed to think that if only the knights and dragoons of the north had come to their aid then the battle could have been won.

Except some of them had gone to Cartenau, and a familiar face presented itself in the tavern not too far away. Theodore. It had been several years since she last saw him in Foundation, perhaps longer for him if he even recognized her, but she definitely remembered him from being around the Haillenartes. At least he seemed to be doing well, more of a fighter than she remembered, and it did well for her spirits to find another Ishgardian among the dreaded heat of Thanalan. Nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a bit of a commotion among those gathered though. No small amount of people had left outright after Lyveva's honesty regarding the position of the company. They apparently had… Well, nothing. Barely any members, gil and even their home was in threat of slipping away as well, though that last one felt a bit more due to the naivety of their current leader. A few of those remained seemed enthusiastic in her appeal for assistance though, and she had to admit that at the very least she wasn't actually promising that glory or gil that most did. Especially since the Blessed Twelve appeared to have approaching zero of both. Reyna would certainly be getting an earful after this, she had determined already.

"Well, I at least appreciate the honesty."

Isabella spoke up, a raised brow from behind sunglasses as Theodore finished his proclamation towards justice, vengeance and so on and so forth. Unlike the rest she would not stand, but she was not leaving quite yet either. Her lance shifted a little on her back as she too adjusted to sit up a little more upright, presenting the very clear image of a very sunburned woman out of her element.

"But uh… Does this mean you don't have any healers either?"

ＦＩＮＡＬ ＦＡＮＴＡＳＹ Ｘ｜Ｖ： Ｔｈｅ Ｂｌｅｓｓｅｄ Ｔｗｅｌｖｅ

Totally didn't forget to do this a week ago, nope.

Ishgardians beware, mild heresy ahead

"I remember the first time I heard the song of the Dragons upon the wind, my mentor at my side. At first all I could hear was the unending, eternal rage of creatures that had been our mortal enemies since time immemorial. It was fierce and bestial, but somehow I found tears in my eyes as I grasped the soul stone. That was when I heard the anguish beneath the rage, pulling at my heart as I found not just an enemy upon the wind, but a strange kinship beyond the soul bound to mine."

_ＮＡＭＥ
Isabella Desrosiers
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Hyur
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(T)Highlander
_{ＢＩＲＴＨＰＬＡＣＥ}
Foundation, Ishgard
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Fisher
_{ＳＯＵＬ ＣＲＹＳＴＡＬ}
D A R G O O N
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Business

Casual

Whether by intention or not most adventurers have something or another about themselves that set them apart as remarkable in order to get noticed and get the job. Distinct hair color, heterochromatic eyes, height compared to their race, notable scars or any number of other minor details. Isabella's is that when it comes down to it, she's got none of those things. She's an easy 5'6" and lithe in figure from a couple years in the adventuring business as well as her preferred hobby, which is to say that while she's by no means short for a Highlander, she's also nowhere close to the tallest. Her shape is easily achieved by anyone with a mind to focus on keeping themselves in shape, showing off a distinct feminine form but with nothing too much in any one department or another. While she's easy to look at by most opinion, she's not exactly the belle of the ball either and her slight smile shows her own modest opinion of her modest appearance.

One could argue that perhaps the rather striking clarity of her green eyes might be remarkable in a way, in how they tend to catch the light as a well-cut emerald, but it's a stretch even if they accent well the light freckling across her cheeks. Blonde hair frames her face, put up in a sideways ponytail when she's got the time for it, sometimes simply loose down her back, or if she's really in the mood she'll put it in a single braid, but that takes some doing and generally only happens if she wants to look nice. No scars grace her smooth skin, pale by the standard of anyone south of Coerthas… But seeing as how she's Ishgardian it's pretty much expected.

In terms of clothing and armor, she trends towards the casual and relaxed for the former and practical for the latter. Her favorite while out and about in towns are the windsilk pants she acquired from a traveling merchant back in Foundation with a button-up jacket, though doesn't mind anything with long-sleeves and adequate covering. That said, with the rather distinct shift in weather from her homeland, she has been thinking that shorts would come in handy. In the end though, what may be the most remarkable about Isabella Desrosiers, is that she is rather the opposite until one gets to know her.
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Frigid as the Coerthan winds and with a bite to match, her steely gaze has rooted many to the spot before they could even open their mouths to begin what could have been a clumsy pickup line or offer to join up with their company. At least… That's what she thinks sometimes as she sits quietly and on her own in the local tavern, family history leading her to keep to herself until sure she can trust someone. It's not uncommon among adventurers, or Ishgardians at that. She's never the first to speak in a group, staying reserved and thinking carefully over what she wants to say, but she's also not one to miss her chance to give her say either, speaking softly in smooth and practiced tones that almost immediately betray her more noble heritage. It gives her the appearance of first being just like any other Ishgardian noble, swiftly replaced by the realization that she's just shy and careful around new people.

That much is especially proven once she has come to find comfort around one person or another, and as hard as it may seem to get on her good side it's actually not too difficult at all. For all her learning she's quite trusting and relies on her physical ability to get herself out of potential trouble, always falling back on the whole "keep your distance and feel people out" thing until she relies on her habits again. And once she has gotten to know someone, she does become quite a different woman. It's like a switch, where one side is the quiet noble girl, and the other is the lively adventurer out to have a good time and see the world. Around friends she will neglect boundaries, volume and start to show some of the razor-sharp wit she keeps in reserve. Get a good enough party going and she might even start up a song and dance, but that probably wouldn't be a good idea.
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History

Born in Ishgard to the minor house of Desrosier, early life was one that straddled the line between the two classes of the city-state, not quite within one or the other. While she and her family were considered nobility of a sort, keeping a home of their own in Falconrest and never wanting for the necessities, nor were they truly considered true nobility. Part of this owed to how her parents Marseille and Sebastian became citizens shortly before her birth, and through circumstances she is not inclined to speak of, if she even knows. Regardless she was able to acquire a decent education, attending with the children of the major houses and from an early age she was taught the martial skills that would form the foundation of her adventuring career.

Where life became interesting was when she started to come of age, and for many reasons at that. Isabella's schooling had always been rather moderate, her studies where they should be and competent even if her arcane ability had been found rather lacking. She was always rather quick with picking up a concept and understanding it, able to get the grasp of something usually well ahead of her peers. The only problem came to when tasking her abilities and determining how best she would serve the Holy See when the time came. With no shortage of knights and dragoons to combat the Dravanian threat, the inquisitorius had been rather keen on selecting new pupils to take into their ranks for seeking out the dangers from within. Her keen intelligence and quick wit drew their attention rather swiftly, and it didn't hurt that her martial ability was above average for her age as well. All that stood in their way were two rather minor issues. First was that her father had strongly objected to the idea of her joining into the Inquisitorius, going so far as to take the issue up with the Lord Commander of the temple guard.

While that alone would normally have been quite enough to forestall the attempts, especially as it has been said that the shouting match between her father and the other lords was quite spectacular, some were not as easily swayed. No, she was still pulled from the potential knights and tested for her abilities, which then proved the second issue. To their incredible embarrassment, the inquisitors responsible for the over-zealous attempts to bolster their ranks issued an apology to the Desrosiers and the matter was settled within a day of it starting. Some favors exchanged hands over the next few months, her father spending some extra time with the Skysteel Manufactory and curiously it seemed everyone in the Pillars forgot that anything had happened. On her part, Isabella simply focused on her studies and picked up the lance with the intention of potentially becoming a Dragoon, something which she found a passion for not too long after.

Those years would find themself quite active though, and only partially due to the shenanigans around the Holy See. There had been a shift in the order of the world, something that even Ishgard couldn't fully isolate themselves from. Rumors persisted of a coming disaster, the moon Dalamud seemed to act strangely, and the monsters about Coerthas even stranger. In particular as she was finding herself coming of age with all the changes that come with it, she recalled of how concerned her parents were looking up into the night sky. Neither had ever spoken to her of where they came from before Ishgard, their homeland a mystery to her that had always been a curiosity never quite sated except with a promise of some day. On the eve of her fifteenth year, the day came. Being a more idealistic sort she had nevertheless feared darker secrets, and as all know children are wont to give in to their imaginations when there are blank spaces to fill. It was almost a relief to her then when she learned of the reality, something she has kept to herself in the years since.

Then came Calamity. While all of Eorzea it seemed had come together to take a stand against Garlemald, life continued as a parody of normal within Ishgard. If not for the far reach of that event, Isabella might not have even been aware it had happened. Yet a chill wind blew while the earth was rent asunder to the south, destruction like none she had ever seen wrought across the land. Ice and snow enveloped her homeland for reasons that still remain unknown, and when all was said and done she couldn't help but wonder if it was some form of penance against Ishgard by Halone for refusing to aid the Eorzean Alliance. That thought sat ill with her while she tended to her studies, while she practiced the lance and eventually became a full-fledged Dragoon, and even as she tried to fish the icy rivers to settle her mind. Life within Coerthas seemed different after the Calamity to her, as if the peace of before had been a lie, and that there was something more that could have been done. That something could still be done.

So it was that three years after she would set out for lands south, taking her lance and rod with a pack and as brief a goodbye as she could bear to her parents. From place to place she offered either a hand in fending off monsters, or providing food for stay. Either sat well enough with her, though her preference had led her to make friends on the way and learn of distant lands, strange peoples and stranger happenings. One in particular had stuck with her long enough to provide rumor of something she couldn't quite ignore, and set her on the road to meeting with the Blessed Twelve.

_{ＯＴＨＥＲ}
- Strictly physical: While most adventurers have a little bit of spellcraft on hand to supplement their primary job or dabble in as a sort of side-project, Isabella for whatever reason she may have, has no such abilities to her. Whether it's simply because she has a bad taste for it, poor aptitude or just no interest she won't say, but it has left her a little more focused on the more physical aspects of combat.
- They're designer: Above all her possessions, yes even the family pendant around her neck and her lance, there is one thing that she absolutely will not let anyone else touch and reacts strongly to any attempt to do so without her permission. The sunglasses. It's not because they have any sort of sentimental attachment, or that they were particularly expensive either. She just really likes them.
- Fisher friend: Everyone has connections whether they admit to them or not. Some have the more illicit kind such as pirates, bandits, smugglers, rebels or general malcontents. Others have the coin or the ear in more legitimate circles. Isabella's is more along the lines of the latter, and more often than not her friendship with fellow fishers has been underestimated to the embarrassment of a doubter. While they aren't the most prestigious group, nor the most powerful or prolific, they are usually well-liked and on the good side of both sides of the coin, which tends to prove pretty useful when the gil is on the table. More than that, one of two of her fisher friends are quite capable in things other than fishing as well, and in some instances those friends just happen to be among the beast tribes.
- Pistols at Noon: Though by far her preference is the lance, on her hip is usually a well-maintained pistol of Ishgardian make. The cherry-wood finish and blued steel shows years of dedicated care that was instilled in her by her father along with her tendency to fish as stress-relief. How exactly she came by it is not nearly as interesting as the why, for it was simply a piece made within the Skysteel Manufactory by her father while working for Haillenarte. Right around the incident with the Inquisitorius, she had also taken a brief detour in her studies that ended just about as awkwardly. Despite just a passing interest, she had apparently impressed the Machinists with her marksmanship enough that they too insisted on recruiting her. Unfortunately for them, she preferred something a little more stabby, but kept the pistol regardless.
- Minor notes: As anyone who gets to know her might note, she doesn't exactly get on well with folks back home for a few reasons, among them some incredibly slight insinuations of heresy and past disagreements. Isabella also trends towards the idealistic, often fielding thoughts that really don't have a chance of working considering the current political clime of Eorzea. She is also rather partial to bourbon and catfish despite having caught more than her fair share over the years.
_{ＲＥＡＳＯＮ ＦＯＲ ＥＮＬＩＳＴＭＥＮＴ}

Catfished

"Pray cease your chicanery and return to whencever you two came at once!"

Somewhere, she thought to herself, a bard was telling a joke in a tavern that began with a description of this very moment. An uncomfortably warm Ishgardian squatting at the edge of a ravine, a fishing rod in hand. One rather irate yet bewildered Amal'jaa. Then there was of course the one who was the cause of all of it, the aloof woman in yellow and silver arguing with the lizardman. All of this in the Sagolii desert of all places, perched atop the far side of a ravine across from a settlement of the beastmen, a few of whom were observing with some degree of curiosity. Yes, she was there fishing. Fishing in sand of all things, while her companion was arguing with one of the beastfolk.

"I've already told you that we'll be on our way once we've confirmed the rumor!"

"And I am telling you, that by Ifrit's flaming arse, you are wasting your time Rey'na!"

"Reyna! One word! How would you like it if I called you Sasha instead of Sau'Sha?!"

She wondered exactly how long the two had been going at it, casting a weary glance at the equally spiteful sun hanging high in the sky. It was casting a rather intense heat upon the land, and she was dearly wishing that she had insisted a little more to Reyna when the skywatcher told them of the impending heat wave. Then again, it had been altogether far too warm for her since departing Foundation several years ago. If only she had thought to pack shorter sleeved shirts… A long sigh passed her lips as she quietly hung her head and tried to focus more on her own thoughts and the task at hand instead of the bickering beside her. When they first got there things had been simple enough. Talk to their Amal'ja contact, get a lay of the land and an understanding of the tribe's attitude at the moment. If everything was good, then make a trade of fish for some time on the dunes near the settlement and be on their way once all was said and done.

Part one had gone well, relations between the Amal'jaa and the local settlement were at a state of indifference at the moment, likely due to the heat keeping most people out of the desert proper and closer to the springs. The fish had been easily taken care of as well, a basket of harbor herring from Limsa relatively fresh caught and preserved. Apparently their tribal leader had a taste for it, and providing some smoothed things out enough to allow both Isabella and Reyna safe enough passage to the village with their guide. A guide who seemed to be shifting from friend to acquaintance in a hurry, and none too pleased with the shenanigans of their impromptu quest. If she was being honest with herself though… She kind of agreed with Sau'Sha. The very absurdity of fish in the sand had her dubious from the start, and if it hadn't come from Reyna, she might have called her a stupid bint and been done with it. Yet here she was.

Yes, here she was. In the sweltering heat. Wearing long sleeves and dark leather pants. Fishing rod in hand, remaining as still as it was when she first cast… Again she couldn't quite recall just how long she had been squatting there. No, that wasn't quite right. It wasn't that she couldn't recall how long it was, it was that she couldn't be assed. Yes, that was it. Sweat dripped from the soaked bandana across her forehead into the sand, sizzling and evaporating almost as soon as it hit. That was perhaps the sign that enough is enough, a pomf sounding as she stuck the rod into the sand and sat back for a long moment to try and steady herself and focus on anything that could help cool her off. Water sloshed around in its pouch as she brought it to her lips, glancing up and to the side to see those two still arguing.

"Three! Three of your kind have already attempted this in the last week!"

"Three amateurs!"

"How do you know, you weren't here and you didn't see them!"

"Because they didn't catch the godsdamned fish!"

"Or maybe there's JUST NO FISH HERE."

"I wonder if the fish aren't biting because there actually aren't fish in the sand, or because you two are scaring them away."

Her first comment in at least an hour reminded them of her presence, both turning to look down at the blonde woman sitting in the sand beside them. For a moment it had them quiet as well until irritation crossed her features from seeing Reyna struggling to hold back laughter and their Amal'jaa friend turning away with what she swore was the same effort. "What?"

"You are going to burn so bad."

With a quick reach into the side pocket of her pack she fetched out a small hand-mirror, turning it to face her and look at her reflection. Such were the pains of being fair-skinned it seemed, circles around her eyes where the sunglasses she usually wore had protected them and strips of pale skin surrounded by red. Not just red, but an angry, sunburnt red. Isabella groaned as she knew she should have taken the advice of the puntable peddler back in Ul'dah, now regretting not having purchased some ointment to protect against the sun. Lesson learned it seemed, just like that of how to dress in Thanalan. At least next time she would be prepared… If there was a next time, as it only felt hotter when her attention was drawn to just how much she was going to suffer in the days to come.

"Yeah… Thanks."

"You know, I heard that free company the Blessed Twelve is looking for new members and supposedly they've already got a few offers to join by some competent healers."

"Reyna. Are you suggesting I join a free company for free sunburn care? You know that's not what the free in free company stands for, right?"

"Free is free, is it not?"

Both women paused for a moment as they turned to regard Sau'Sha, all before bursting out laughing at his rather blunt observation. It helped to alleviate the tension that was building, something she was glad for as she wasn't sure she wanted to see if he could actually toss her clear across the ravine as he had somewhat, yet not entirely joked about earlier. What it also did was distract her for just long enough to miss the subtle tug on the line. Reyna though did not, and her eyes went wide as she leaned in close, jabbing at the Amal'jaa's side to grab his attention. For her part though, it was completely lost on Isabella. "What?" Both pointed as once more there was a gentle tug, and this time she saw it. Then another, and as if losing patience whatever was on the other end of the line gave a yank that nearly dislodged the rod and pulled it into the ravine.

"Holy shit!"

"There's actually something down there?!"

"Stop gawking and help me! By Halone it's a strong one!"

Isabella had managed to grab the rod in time, but just about fell into the ravine as she was pulled to her feet and the reel screamed as it loosed ilm after ilm of line. Close to a dozen yalms of high-strength line had disappeared into the sand, the steel fibre straining and bending the rod when finally she managed to brace herself into the rock at the edge. Her fellow Hyur was first to put hands to hers, assisting as best she could with the little room they had. Every moment was a fight now as the hook set, sand whipping up along the ravine floor to trace the path of whatever was at the other end of her rod. "Sau'Sha! Find your footing and keep us from getting pulled in!"

"My strength is yours! Ifrit guide us to victory!"

True to his word he braced himself just behind the two, one claw grasping her by the shoulder and ensuring that she wouldn't be dragged down just yet, while the other reached out to take hold of the rod and begin pulling backwards. Yet even with all three of them it resisted with all the might of Leviathan, an audible creak sounding as wood bent in a way it was most certainly not supposed to and the steel reinforcement started to bow outwards. Reyna was the first to see it, her eyes widening behind her goggles as she swore under her breath and momentarily lost her grip. That allowed them to slip just an ilm forward, all three shouting as a rather unceremonious end was ever closer. But Isabella would not let that be her fate, determination setting in her sunburned features as she widened her stance and leaned back into Sau'Sha. Across the ravine others of his kind had gathered to watch, what once was merely curiosity now a battle for survival as a growing mound formed racing along the bottom and kicking up sand the entire way.

"Hold! We need only hold until it tires!"

Screeching line continued, a building crescendo that was steadily ticking down just how much time they had left until the end. Smoke was even rising from the reel, the mechanism simply not built to handle this kind of strain, and if there was one thing she would resolve herself to do assuming they did not get pulled down, that was to get a new one as soon as she could. For now their fight continued, and to her relief what was once a fierce and intense pull ever so subtly shifted, signaling that indeed the beast was tiring. That meant only one thing and Reyna saw it as well, moving closer in to assist in the long process of reeling it in. Back and forth they went, drawing back ilm after ilm of line back into the reel, allowing it to take a little back when they felt the struggle renewing.

Finally though, after what felt like forever, something broke the surface of the sand below. Neither fisher dared to take a look, but the Amal'jaa on the other side cheering them on was all the proof they needed as one last effort was made. For that they depended on the strength of their comrade, who with a mighty bellow put all he had into yanking back on the rod, pulling all three back into the sand. At first as Isabella lay there staring up at that scornful sky, she thought perhaps that the rod had snapped and they had lost. It would not have been the first time, and she almost started to laugh in defeat until a shadow crossed her vision. There it was, their prize. Sailing through the air from the momentum of Sau'Sha's last effort, it was truly a magnificent beast that rivaled any she had caught before. It must have been several yalms in length, confusion in its eyes as it flailed about with fins and whiskers until landing with a thud just behind them.

"A desert catfish?"

Once more her impromptu and rather deadpan comment brought no small amount of laughter from her comrades, though this time she joined in with them as at last they had managed what they set out to do. It was a good feeling, this win as she lay in the sand for a long moment, Reyna sitting up beside her and wiping at her goggles as the faint cheering from across the ravine signaled their audience's enthusiasm as well.

"Alright, so maybe there actually was something down there."

"Hey Sau'Sha, don't worry about it. That's half the fun of it after all. Just finding out if there's actual truth to the myth."

"Yeah, it was a good catch too, couldn't have done it without you. Why don't you take it to the village? It's a bit big for us to carry back to Ul'dah, and besides I don't think we could finish it in a year between us."

"I'll do just that, you two take care on the road, and know we count you as friends."

"By the way, just as a quick question Sau'Sha."

"Yes, by all means ask."

"Is Ifrit's arse really on fire?"

---

It took them a bit afterwards to recover, burning muscles and stinging skin from being out so long in the sun delaying their efforts, but eventually both women would find themselves on the road north and to different futures.

"So, about that free company?"

"The Blessed Twelve? What about them? Still trying to get me to join up?"

"Well it wouldn't hurt to join up with one at some point. They don't seem too bad, certainly better than those guys going around calling themselves Salt."

"I mean, I suppose so. You off on another job then?"

"Yeah, got some things to take care of up in Ishgard with some nobles or whatever. I know how you are about that stuff, so figured to keep you out of it. Take some time to make a name for yourself and we'll swap stories later, kay?"

"Alright, you got it Reyna. Take care of yourself up there and be careful. They like to plot and scheme."

"Hey, careful is my middle name! Well, it's not actually but I'll be fine. Certainly better than you will be in the morning with that sunburn."

ＦＩＮＡＬ ＦＡＮＴＡＳＹ Ｘ｜Ｖ： Ｔｈｅ Ｂｌｅｓｓｅｄ Ｔｗｅｌｖｅ

Looks at clock, then at deadline.

Ishgardians beware, mild heresy ahead

"I remember the first time I heard the song of the Dragons upon the wind, my mentor at my side. At first all I could hear was the unending, eternal rage of creatures that had been our mortal enemies since time immemorial. It was fierce and bestial, but somehow I found tears in my eyes as I grasped the soul stone. That was when I heard the anguish beneath the rage, pulling at my heart as I found not just an enemy upon the wind, but a strange kinship beyond the soul bound to mine."

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Isabella Desrosiers
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Hyur
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(T)Highlander
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Foundation, Ishgard
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Fisher
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D A R G O O N
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Business

Casual

Whether by intention or not most adventurers have something or another about themselves that set them apart as remarkable in order to get noticed and get the job. Distinct hair color, heterochromatic eyes, height compared to their race, notable scars or any number of other minor details. Isabella's is that when it comes down to it, she's got none of those things. She's an easy 5'6" and lithe in figure from a couple years in the adventuring business as well as her preferred hobby, which is to say that while she's by no means short for a Highlander, she's also nowhere close to the tallest. Her shape is easily achieved by anyone with a mind to focus on keeping themselves in shape, showing off a distinct feminine form but with nothing too much in any one department or another. While she's easy to look at by most opinion, she's not exactly the belle of the ball either and her slight smile shows her own modest opinion of her modest appearance.

One could argue that perhaps the rather striking clarity of her green eyes might be remarkable in a way, in how they tend to catch the light as a well-cut emerald, but it's a stretch even if they accent well the light freckling across her cheeks. Blonde hair frames her face, put up in a sideways ponytail when she's got the time for it, sometimes simply loose down her back, or if she's really in the mood she'll put it in a single braid, but that takes some doing and generally only happens if she wants to look nice. No scars grace her smooth skin, pale by the standard of anyone south of Coerthas… But seeing as how she's Ishgardian it's pretty much expected.

In terms of clothing and armor, she trends towards the casual and relaxed for the former and practical for the latter. Her favorite while out and about in towns are the windsilk pants she acquired from a traveling merchant back in Foundation with a button-up jacket, though doesn't mind anything with long-sleeves and adequate covering. That said, with the rather distinct shift in weather from her homeland, she has been thinking that shorts would come in handy. In the end though, what may be the most remarkable about Isabella Desrosiers, is that she is rather the opposite until one gets to know her.
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Frigid as the Coerthan winds and with a bite to match, her steely gaze has rooted many to the spot before they could even open their mouths to begin what could have been a clumsy pickup line or offer to join up with their company. At least… That's what she thinks sometimes as she sits quietly and on her own in the local tavern, family history leading her to keep to herself until sure she can trust someone. It's not uncommon among adventurers, or Ishgardians at that. She's never the first to speak in a group, staying reserved and thinking carefully over what she wants to say, but she's also not one to miss her chance to give her say either, speaking softly in smooth and practiced tones that almost immediately betray her more noble heritage. It gives her the appearance of first being just like any other Ishgardian noble, swiftly replaced by the realization that she's just shy and careful around new people.

That much is especially proven once she has come to find comfort around one person or another, and as hard as it may seem to get on her good side it's actually not too difficult at all. For all her learning she's quite trusting and relies on her physical ability to get herself out of potential trouble, always falling back on the whole "keep your distance and feel people out" thing until she relies on her habits again. And once she has gotten to know someone, she does become quite a different woman. It's like a switch, where one side is the quiet noble girl, and the other is the lively adventurer out to have a good time and see the world. Around friends she will neglect boundaries, volume and start to show some of the razor-sharp wit she keeps in reserve. Get a good enough party going and she might even start up a song and dance, but that probably wouldn't be a good idea.
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History

Born in Ishgard to the minor house of Desrosier, early life was one that straddled the line between the two classes of the city-state, not quite within one or the other. While she and her family were considered nobility of a sort, keeping a home of their own in Falconrest and never wanting for the necessities, nor were they truly considered true nobility. Part of this owed to how her parents Marseille and Sebastian became citizens shortly before her birth, and through circumstances she is not inclined to speak of, if she even knows. Regardless she was able to acquire a decent education, attending with the children of the major houses and from an early age she was taught the martial skills that would form the foundation of her adventuring career.

Where life became interesting was when she started to come of age, and for many reasons at that. Isabella's schooling had always been rather moderate, her studies where they should be and competent even if her arcane ability had been found rather lacking. She was always rather quick with picking up a concept and understanding it, able to get the grasp of something usually well ahead of her peers. The only problem came to when tasking her abilities and determining how best she would serve the Holy See when the time came. With no shortage of knights and dragoons to combat the Dravanian threat, the inquisitorius had been rather keen on selecting new pupils to take into their ranks for seeking out the dangers from within. Her keen intelligence and quick wit drew their attention rather swiftly, and it didn't hurt that her martial ability was above average for her age as well. All that stood in their way were two rather minor issues. First was that her father had strongly objected to the idea of her joining into the Inquisitorius, going so far as to take the issue up with the Lord Commander of the temple guard.

While that alone would normally have been quite enough to forestall the attempts, especially as it has been said that the shouting match between her father and the other lords was quite spectacular, some were not as easily swayed. No, she was still pulled from the potential knights and tested for her abilities, which then proved the second issue. To their incredible embarrassment, the inquisitors responsible for the over-zealous attempts to bolster their ranks issued an apology to the Desrosiers and the matter was settled within a day of it starting. Some favors exchanged hands over the next few months, her father spending some extra time with the Skysteel Manufactory and curiously it seemed everyone in the Pillars forgot that anything had happened. On her part, Isabella simply focused on her studies and picked up the lance with the intention of potentially becoming a Dragoon, something which she found a passion for not too long after.

Those years would find themself quite active though, and only partially due to the shenanigans around the Holy See. There had been a shift in the order of the world, something that even Ishgard couldn't fully isolate themselves from. Rumors persisted of a coming disaster, the moon Dalamud seemed to act strangely, and the monsters about Coerthas even stranger. In particular as she was finding herself coming of age with all the changes that come with it, she recalled of how concerned her parents were looking up into the night sky. Neither had ever spoken to her of where they came from before Ishgard, their homeland a mystery to her that had always been a curiosity never quite sated except with a promise of some day. On the eve of her fifteenth year, the day came. Being a more idealistic sort she had nevertheless feared darker secrets, and as all know children are wont to give in to their imaginations when there are blank spaces to fill. It was almost a relief to her then when she learned of the reality, something she has kept to herself in the years since.

Then came Calamity. While all of Eorzea it seemed had come together to take a stand against Garlemald, life continued as a parody of normal within Ishgard. If not for the far reach of that event, Isabella might not have even been aware it had happened. Yet a chill wind blew while the earth was rent asunder to the south, destruction like none she had ever seen wrought across the land. Ice and snow enveloped her homeland for reasons that still remain unknown, and when all was said and done she couldn't help but wonder if it was some form of penance against Ishgard by Halone for refusing to aid the Eorzean Alliance. That thought sat ill with her while she tended to her studies, while she practiced the lance and eventually became a full-fledged Dragoon, and even as she tried to fish the icy rivers to settle her mind. Life within Coerthas seemed different after the Calamity to her, as if the peace of before had been a lie, and that there was something more that could have been done. That something could still be done.

So it was that three years after she would set out for lands south, taking her lance and rod with a pack and as brief a goodbye as she could bear to her parents. From place to place she offered either a hand in fending off monsters, or providing food for stay. Either sat well enough with her, though her preference had led her to make friends on the way and learn of distant lands, strange peoples and stranger happenings. One in particular had stuck with her long enough to provide rumor of something she couldn't quite ignore, and set her on the road to meeting with the Blessed Twelve.

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- Strictly physical: While most adventurers have a little bit of spellcraft on hand to supplement their primary job or dabble in as a sort of side-project, Isabella for whatever reason she may have, has no such abilities to her. Whether it's simply because she has a bad taste for it, poor aptitude or just no interest she won't say, but it has left her a little more focused on the more physical aspects of combat.
- They're designer: Above all her possessions, yes even the family pendant around her neck and her lance, there is one thing that she absolutely will not let anyone else touch and reacts strongly to any attempt to do so without her permission. The sunglasses. It's not because they have any sort of sentimental attachment, or that they were particularly expensive either. She just really likes them.
- Fisher friend: Everyone has connections whether they admit to them or not. Some have the more illicit kind such as pirates, bandits, smugglers, rebels or general malcontents. Others have the coin or the ear in more legitimate circles. Isabella's is more along the lines of the latter, and more often than not her friendship with fellow fishers has been underestimated to the embarrassment of a doubter. While they aren't the most prestigious group, nor the most powerful or prolific, they are usually well-liked and on the good side of both sides of the coin, which tends to prove pretty useful when the gil is on the table. More than that, one of two of her fisher friends are quite capable in things other than fishing as well, and in some instances those friends just happen to be among the beast tribes.
- Pistols at Noon: Though by far her preference is the lance, on her hip is usually a well-maintained pistol of Ishgardian make. The cherry-wood finish and blued steel shows years of dedicated care that was instilled in her by her father along with her tendency to fish as stress-relief. How exactly she came by it is not nearly as interesting as the why, for it was simply a piece made within the Skysteel Manufactory by her father while working for Haillenarte. Right around the incident with the Inquisitorius, she had also taken a brief detour in her studies that ended just about as awkwardly. Despite just a passing interest, she had apparently impressed the Machinists with her marksmanship enough that they too insisted on recruiting her. Unfortunately for them, she preferred something a little more stabby, but kept the pistol regardless.
- Minor notes: As anyone who gets to know her might note, she doesn't exactly get on well with folks back home for a few reasons, among them some incredibly slight insinuations of heresy and past disagreements. Isabella also trends towards the idealistic, often fielding thoughts that really don't have a chance of working considering the current political clime of Eorzea. She is also rather partial to bourbon and catfish despite having caught more than her fair share over the years.
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Catfished

"Pray cease your chicanery and return to whencever you two came at once!"

Somewhere, she thought to herself, a bard was telling a joke in a tavern that began with a description of this very moment. An uncomfortably warm Ishgardian squatting at the edge of a ravine, a fishing rod in hand. One rather irate yet bewildered Amal'jaa. Then there was of course the one who was the cause of all of it, the aloof woman in yellow and silver arguing with the lizardman. All of this in the Sagolii desert of all places, perched atop the far side of a ravine across from a settlement of the beastmen, a few of whom were observing with some degree of curiosity. Yes, she was there fishing. Fishing in sand of all things, while her companion was arguing with one of the beastfolk.

"I've already told you that we'll be on our way once we've confirmed the rumor!"

"And I am telling you, that by Ifrit's flaming arse, you are wasting your time Rey'na!"

"Reyna! One word! How would you like it if I called you Sasha instead of Sau'Sha?!"

She wondered exactly how long the two had been going at it, casting a weary glance at the equally spiteful sun hanging high in the sky. It was casting a rather intense heat upon the land, and she was dearly wishing that she had insisted a little more to Reyna when the skywatcher told them of the impending heat wave. Then again, it had been altogether far too warm for her since departing Foundation several years ago. If only she had thought to pack shorter sleeved shirts… A long sigh passed her lips as she quietly hung her head and tried to focus more on her own thoughts and the task at hand instead of the bickering beside her. When they first got there things had been simple enough. Talk to their Amal'ja contact, get a lay of the land and an understanding of the tribe's attitude at the moment. If everything was good, then make a trade of fish for some time on the dunes near the settlement and be on their way once all was said and done.

Part one had gone well, relations between the Amal'jaa and the local settlement were at a state of indifference at the moment, likely due to the heat keeping most people out of the desert proper and closer to the springs. The fish had been easily taken care of as well, a basket of harbor herring from Limsa relatively fresh caught and preserved. Apparently their tribal leader had a taste for it, and providing some smoothed things out enough to allow both Isabella and Reyna safe enough passage to the village with their guide. A guide who seemed to be shifting from friend to acquaintance in a hurry, and none too pleased with the shenanigans of their impromptu quest. If she was being honest with herself though… She kind of agreed with Sau'Sha. The very absurdity of fish in the sand had her dubious from the start, and if it hadn't come from Reyna, she might have called her a stupid bint and been done with it. Yet here she was.

Yes, here she was. In the sweltering heat. Wearing long sleeves and dark leather pants. Fishing rod in hand, remaining as still as it was when she first cast… Again she couldn't quite recall just how long she had been squatting there. No, that wasn't quite right. It wasn't that she couldn't recall how long it was, it was that she couldn't be assed. Yes, that was it. Sweat dripped from the soaked bandana across her forehead into the sand, sizzling and evaporating almost as soon as it hit. That was perhaps the sign that enough is enough, a pomf sounding as she stuck the rod into the sand and sat back for a long moment to try and steady herself and focus on anything that could help cool her off. Water sloshed around in its pouch as she brought it to her lips, glancing up and to the side to see those two still arguing.

"Three! Three of your kind have already attempted this in the last week!"

"Three amateurs!"

"How do you know, you weren't here and you didn't see them!"

"Because they didn't catch the godsdamned fish!"

"Or maybe there's JUST NO FISH HERE."

"I wonder if the fish aren't biting because there actually aren't fish in the sand, or because you two are scaring them away."

Her first comment in at least an hour reminded them of her presence, both turning to look down at the blonde woman sitting in the sand beside them. For a moment it had them quiet as well until irritation crossed her features from seeing Reyna struggling to hold back laughter and their Amal'jaa friend turning away with what she swore was the same effort. "What?"

"You are going to burn so bad."

With a quick reach into the side pocket of her pack she fetched out a small hand-mirror, turning it to face her and look at her reflection. Such were the pains of being fair-skinned it seemed, circles around her eyes where the sunglasses she usually wore had protected them and strips of pale skin surrounded by red. Not just red, but an angry, sunburnt red. Isabella groaned as she knew she should have taken the advice of the puntable peddler back in Ul'dah, now regretting not having purchased some ointment to protect against the sun. Lesson learned it seemed, just like that of how to dress in Thanalan. At least next time she would be prepared… If there was a next time, as it only felt hotter when her attention was drawn to just how much she was going to suffer in the days to come.

"Yeah… Thanks."

"You know, I heard that free company the Blessed Twelve is looking for new members and supposedly they've already got a few offers to join by some competent healers."

"Reyna. Are you suggesting I join a free company for free sunburn care? You know that's not what the free in free company stands for, right?"

"Free is free, is it not?"

Both women paused for a moment as they turned to regard Sau'Sha, all before bursting out laughing at his rather blunt observation. It helped to alleviate the tension that was building, something she was glad for as she wasn't sure she wanted to see if he could actually toss her clear across the ravine as he had somewhat, yet not entirely joked about earlier. What it also did was distract her for just long enough to miss the subtle tug on the line. Reyna though did not, and her eyes went wide as she leaned in close, jabbing at the Amal'jaa's side to grab his attention. For her part though, it was completely lost on Isabella. "What?" Both pointed as once more there was a gentle tug, and this time she saw it. Then another, and as if losing patience whatever was on the other end of the line gave a yank that nearly dislodged the rod and pulled it into the ravine.

"Holy shit!"

"There's actually something down there?!"

"Stop gawking and help me! By Halone it's a strong one!"

Isabella had managed to grab the rod in time, but just about fell into the ravine as she was pulled to her feet and the reel screamed as it loosed ilm after ilm of line. Close to a dozen yalms of high-strength line had disappeared into the sand, the steel fibre straining and bending the rod when finally she managed to brace herself into the rock at the edge. Her fellow Hyur was first to put hands to hers, assisting as best she could with the little room they had. Every moment was a fight now as the hook set, sand whipping up along the ravine floor to trace the path of whatever was at the other end of her rod. "Sau'Sha! Find your footing and keep us from getting pulled in!"

"My strength is yours! Ifrit guide us to victory!"

True to his word he braced himself just behind the two, one claw grasping her by the shoulder and ensuring that she wouldn't be dragged down just yet, while the other reached out to take hold of the rod and begin pulling backwards. Yet even with all three of them it resisted with all the might of Leviathan, an audible creak sounding as wood bent in a way it was most certainly not supposed to and the steel reinforcement started to bow outwards. Reyna was the first to see it, her eyes widening behind her goggles as she swore under her breath and momentarily lost her grip. That allowed them to slip just an ilm forward, all three shouting as a rather unceremonious end was ever closer. But Isabella would not let that be her fate, determination setting in her sunburned features as she widened her stance and leaned back into Sau'Sha. Across the ravine others of his kind had gathered to watch, what once was merely curiosity now a battle for survival as a growing mound formed racing along the bottom and kicking up sand the entire way.

"Hold! We need only hold until it tires!"

Screeching line continued, a building crescendo that was steadily ticking down just how much time they had left until the end. Smoke was even rising from the reel, the mechanism simply not built to handle this kind of strain, and if there was one thing she would resolve herself to do assuming they did not get pulled down, that was to get a new one as soon as she could. For now their fight continued, and to her relief what was once a fierce and intense pull ever so subtly shifted, signaling that indeed the beast was tiring. That meant only one thing and Reyna saw it as well, moving closer in to assist in the long process of reeling it in. Back and forth they went, drawing back ilm after ilm of line back into the reel, allowing it to take a little back when they felt the struggle renewing.

Finally though, after what felt like forever, something broke the surface of the sand below. Neither fisher dared to take a look, but the Amal'jaa on the other side cheering them on was all the proof they needed as one last effort was made. For that they depended on the strength of their comrade, who with a mighty bellow put all he had into yanking back on the rod, pulling all three back into the sand. At first as Isabella lay there staring up at that scornful sky, she thought perhaps that the rod had snapped and they had lost. It would not have been the first time, and she almost started to laugh in defeat until a shadow crossed her vision. There it was, their prize. Sailing through the air from the momentum of Sau'Sha's last effort, it was truly a magnificent beast that rivaled any she had caught before. It must have been several yalms in length, confusion in its eyes as it flailed about with fins and whiskers until landing with a thud just behind them.

"A desert catfish?"

Once more her impromptu and rather deadpan comment brought no small amount of laughter from her comrades, though this time she joined in with them as at last they had managed what they set out to do. It was a good feeling, this win as she lay in the sand for a long moment, Reyna sitting up beside her and wiping at her goggles as the faint cheering from across the ravine signaled their audience's enthusiasm as well.

"Alright, so maybe there actually was something down there."

"Hey Sau'Sha, don't worry about it. That's half the fun of it after all. Just finding out if there's actual truth to the myth."

"Yeah, it was a good catch too, couldn't have done it without you. Why don't you take it to the village? It's a bit big for us to carry back to Ul'dah, and besides I don't think we could finish it in a year between us."

"I'll do just that, you two take care on the road, and know we count you as friends."

"By the way, just as a quick question Sau'Sha."

"Yes, by all means ask."

"Is Ifrit's arse really on fire?"

---

It took them a bit afterwards to recover, burning muscles and stinging skin from being out so long in the sun delaying their efforts, but eventually both women would find themselves on the road north and to different futures.

"So, about that free company?"

"The Blessed Twelve? What about them? Still trying to get me to join up?"

"Well it wouldn't hurt to join up with one at some point. They don't seem too bad, certainly better than those guys going around calling themselves Salt."

"I mean, I suppose so. You off on another job then?"

"Yeah, got some things to take care of up in Ishgard with some nobles or whatever. I know how you are about that stuff, so figured to keep you out of it. Take some time to make a name for yourself and we'll swap stories later, kay?"

"Alright, you got it Reyna. Take care of yourself up there and be careful. They like to plot and scheme."

"Hey, careful is my middle name! Well, it's not actually but I'll be fine. Certainly better than you will be in the morning with that sunburn."

Heroes Reborn: Prime Earth (Superhero/Urban Fantasy: OPEN)

January 2, 12:04 PM
North-East of Atlanta, Georgia - Near US Highway 85

---

There was a distinct sense of the air shifting, of some kind of energy at work that she was both familiar with and yet not. At least… Not for some time it felt. Back in more or less civilization there were many possibilities about who or what could be coming towards her, though considering that as it approached and her senses sharpened it was obvious it was coming from above, those possibilities decreased by some bit. A part of her wondered for a moment if it was the same man from before, and reflexively she went on edge just that little bit as she thought to shift herself into speed-time to take a look. It would have taken her scant seconds to do so, and would have given her all the time she needed for any normal encounter. Something told her though that neither this one or the man from across the ocean were anything close to normal. So instead she decided to roll the dice and see what happened. Where she sat she looked everything like just another traveler taking a rest, and she could quite easily slip into the crowd if things came to that, just to come back with a supersonic kick.

Then she heard the familiar voice and it gave her just a bit of pause because it was the last thing she was expecting.

"Vee. It's been a while."

Champion. It had been quite a while indeed, their last encounter a little chilly as she had come off a particularly dim mood and the loss of Central City was a bit fresher than it was now. That was even before her new suit and she wondered if he had seen it yet, though imagined that he didn't come all the way here to find her just to talk costumes. Almost she had called back with a "Duncan", but caught herself as another person revealed themself to her, this one a younger girl who at first felt distinctly… Off. She had to focus to figure out just what it was, and even then the reason eluded her for now, but it soon became secondary as her eyes settled across familiar features. It was impossible. The girl looked so much like her lost sister, though a bit older and her eyes carrying a haunted look that was quite unlike the more lively girl she had known. She had only a moment to think, for practically as soon as their eyes met the younger of the two was already launching herself for her with abandon.

For a moment she debated on what to do, energy coursing through her body as the speed force enveloped her and she watched in slow motion as her sister sailed through the air towards her. Except… That was impossible. She had looked for her after the devastation. Sifted through the ashes of thousands for any kind of sign of her family. All she found was despair and yet more signs of loss, the echoing laughter of a dark god on the winds as she realized what had happened. No, this was not Lexi, it couldn't be. As the girl came ever so closer, she made contact, hand pressing against her back and instead of simply dodging the flying tackle, she redirected her into the bench seat as she flashed off to the side and took a moment to look at them both. It all happened with the flash of electricity, it still crackling around her hands and feet as she remained equal distance from Champion and Nano.

"Alright Major Maple, what is this?"

Star Wars: The Harbor's Due

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It had been a bold move to begin with, one that smaller and less experienced crews would have folded to any day of the week. Aurek had partly been hoping for this outcome as at least now there was some thrill of a hunt to look forward to. Both his own team's fire and the return proved mostly ineffective at this distance and from where he stood that was fine enough for the moment. Afterall, the force-sensitive one was needed alive and there was quite a bit of risk of collateral damage in such a firefight. A shot or two winged his way, grazing his shoulder and singeing the leather as he inclined his head just a bit so as to get a bearing on who had managed to get that close. Two women on either side of a crate in the cargo bay, one pink-skinned and bearing the countenance of a hardened mercenary and someone who had very likely seen quite a bit of combat. The other who had actually clipped him though, she was the opposite. Some fresh-faced human girl, perhaps core-worlds or the colonies if he had to guess, but either way it was too close of a shot to be coincidence.

"Besh!"

His command carried over the blaster-fire, drawing his companion's attention to where he pointed… Directly at Skylar hunkered down behind the cargo container. For her part she was more than eager to close in, but the incoming fire was too much to even dare leaving from behind their walking tank. Then, for one all too brief moment, it went silent. Aurek watched as who seemed to clearly be the captain issued out orders, a small exchange between her crew and the cargo bay door closing just that bit faster. If he was one to worry over the small details he would have noticed the arrival of yet another crew member, this one obviously blind and carrying a staff, as well as the shift of the baradium-fission device up the ramp and into the hold a bit faster than the crew pushing it were physically capable of managing. Others may miss those details as well as the whirr of servos kicking into motion, the scrape of metal on metal as turret rings badly in need of some loving service traversed. Yet Aurek was not one to miss the small details and just before the turbolasers opened fire he stepped to the side and backwards, hunkering down with his team within the energy shield.

Everything was sound and light as Ceph crouched down and minimized the size of the shield in the process. Flashes of brilliant blue and white nearly blinded him, eyes adjusting to the after-gloom and repeated bursts of light in repetition all while a distinct heat began to build and dust filled the air. When it was finally done it was almost as if a smoke grenade had gone off in the hangar, and slowly it dissipated to show the two distinct marks in the ground from where Ceph had been physically pushed back across the duracrete floor. Yet all three of his team still stood, and for that Aurek stepped out of the energy shield and smirked up to the captain and her team.

"Marvelous play captain!" He called out, directly to Solace as he aimed his blaster her way and then towards Skylar not too far from her side. "But the hunt has only started, and we always find our mark!"

Anything further was silenced as the cargo bay door shut and sealed before the killteam, Aurek turning to begin to direct them out and away from the ship. Then something unexpected happened, and so rarely was he ever caught off guard by his quarry. Locks slammed shut within the CR-90 behind him, as at the same time an automated protocol activated inside the hangar. All doors leading out of the hangar locked and secured themselves, something done only in the instance of a ship starting to take off. The heat began to build within as he noticed the distinct glow of the engines, raising an eyebrow partly in surprise and partly in respect for taking the unexpected. His admiration for the move was short-lived as quite rapidly what was initially a comfortable equatorial Tatooine summer turned into something approaching a braise and his skin started to blister and bubble right before his eyes.

Screaming sounded right then as well, as while at the very least he had some kind of tolerance to the slightly warm, and Ceph had his Beskar'gam, one member of their team was woefully underprotected from environmental damage of this kind. Besh's robes had caught alight as she cowered behind their larger companion, pale hands clawing at her face that was starting to fuse with the hood she had been wearing just moments ago. He stood there and watched as what was cloth and what was woman were starting to blur together, giving one final command to the two of them as he too succumbed to the heat. Ceph obeyed as he always did, turning and sheltering the smaller woman as best he could, providing a bulwark from the worst of the assault.

---

"Okay… So, that's a thing."

Solace broke the silence in the cargo hold as she brushed a stray lock of red from her face, cybernetic eyes adjusting to the break in combat and feeling her body steadily calm. "Brin yeah? Conference room. Now. Skylar, find yourself a bunk on the main deck and get comfortable for a long ride. Natasha… You know what I'm going to say, so just focus on doing your thing and helping the others count guns." She issued out orders rapid-fire, pointing to each person in turn as she ensured that control was firmly in their hands and providing everyone a point of order in the aftermath of the chaos. It wasn't just for them though, as while it would help immensely to get people focused and moving after a firefight like that, it was also for her to do a slightly discreet head-count and ensure everyone was present.

As she did, she noticed that while there were a couple new faces in the form of Skylar, Brin, Jarak and Alyra, she was also missing one and still had the issue of the boy and his dog. "Ah, and before I forget." It was just Kabal that was missing, likely the Ubese had crawled off somewhere in search of explosives and just chose not to tell anyone about it. What she hadn't realized is that in their rush to get the bomb on the ship and close the ramp, that he had actually slipped off the edge and was outside the ship being cooked with the bad guys. More prominent on her agenda though, she brought the rifle to bear that she had liberated from the guy looking quite confused at the end of her ramp, and put two blaster bolts into his chest. The next two found the dog that was poised to retaliate after the attack on its master, and with that one less problem was on her to-do list.

"Someone clean that mess up and don't tell Five-Toes about the dog. I don't want him cooking it, since we all know he would and won't tell us about it."

Star Wars: Empire of Glass

While I appreciate the heads-up, my plate is a bit full at the moment and I've got my own to keep moving. Good luck though.

Heroes Reborn: Prime Earth (Superhero/Urban Fantasy: OPEN)

January 1st, 7:40 PM (East Coast Time)
Metropolis High-Rise District

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"Did you know that almost every culture on this Earth, both current and historic, has some form of mythos revolving around serpents and their supposed evil?"

The man approached slowly, the dim light of the parlor illuminating his broad frame bit by bit until he stopped just short of his face being revealed to the other kneeling before him. Windows stretched across one side of the room from floor to ceiling, tinted against any prying eyes from outside but well clear enough for any within to see the show just beyond in midtown. A great beast had burst from the ground just moments before, and no sooner had it made its appearance than battle was met. Of course, Wonder Woman had been expected but the others were a surprise to be sure. Not entirely unwelcome though, the man thought as he observed, a subtle hiss coming from the serpent that rested along his shoulders and tasted the air around them. A light air of smoke lingered from cigars still smoldering in ashtrays set upon tables next to a row of plush chairs, all facing the windows and occupied by shadowy individuals.

"Some kind of primal fear, it has been suggested." He continued, resting a hand upon the other man's shoulder facing away from him, and steadying him as the serpent slowly slithered down and began to coil around him. "That the First Man had seen a snake eat a beast whole, and in terror assumed it capable of eating the world. Of course, as man spread across the world an settled in new regions, formed new cultures and eventually nations, the story changed, multiple stories emerged and began to differ from one another depending on the lay of the land or the history of one tribe or another. This one, though, is my favorite."

Just then the battle before them became so much more interesting, the man's grip tightening as a feral grin spread across his lips in the dim light. "Pay attention, for this is the Serpent Which Devours Itself." A momentary pause, in which gore rained upon the streets of Metropolis, a keening wail of fury and pain as the Hydra destroyed itself in a flurry of teeth and claws. The creature's regenerative went into overdrive as it formed new heads from each wound, going from just a few to a dozen, then a dozen more and each time doubling what there was before. Soon a forest of scales and rage emerged from the streets, the roar of the Hydra shaking the windows for that one singular moment.

"OUROBOROS!"

A murmur went along the group behind the two men, seven other men and two women talking among each other of the sight before them and the ongoing fight. "Behold! Truly a spectacle, is it not? Ares has done well to treat us to this show, though we all know who provided him this boon." Silence dominated the room once more as his tone shifted to a more serious one, the man stepping forward into the light and turning to watch as the other man was slowly being strangled to death by the snake, fangs sticking into his chest. "We seem to have had ourselves a bit of a disagreement, haven't we mister Serano? See, when my organization agreed to support your business, to guide you through the chaos of the Two Month War and the aftermath, it was assumed that in return you would dance on your strings and do as YOU WERE TOLD."

For that one short moment, he almost lost his temper against his guest, very nearly striking him in front of the organization. That would not do of course, for he had an image to keep up and to do such a thing would ruin it. "I do apologize, raising my voice like that was quite rude especially when we have such good entertainment before us." A quick command in parseltongue and the snake about the man's neck relaxed and withdrew its fangs, coming up to look him directly in the eyes, the malicious intent clear there. Of course through the entire exchange Serano had tried to speak, his mouth open in a rictus mask of terror as his body was kept paralyzed through power magicks over-riding his ability to do anything except watch what was before him. "Oh, that's your building, isn't it?" A crash from midtown announced the destruction of part of a building, the Hydra falling against it before once more launching itself against its attackers. "Now, one would be rather remiss to not comment on the irony of that, wouldn't you say?"

"But, back to the topic at hand. You were given quite clear instructions on what to do with your little empire, of what to air and when across your networks. We were very specific, because it was very important to us. It was thought, that you also understood the terms of our contract. Did you think that just because you now had money that you could just ignore anything you didn't like?" In the years since the devastation of the midwest, the split from the Union by the Pacific States and the collapse of many different corporations and nations since the Two Month War many new players had come to prominence to replace the old. Ian Serano was one of them, a mid-level media exec who amounted to quite little before the war. Afterwards he had stepped forward to establish one of a handful of new networks on the East Coast and had a controlling share of the American news. Rumors were that he had connections to a Wall Street group, claiming that his fame and fortune were entirely fabricated, or that he had some backroom dealings with politicians in order to secure his new network. The truth was something else entirely, something that this man standing before him preferred to keep between them.

"See, not only did you fuck up our request to run the provided material on a regular basis, but you thought that this newfound power would afford you the ability to deny us. Forgetting of course, that we are the ones who gave you this power. We are the ones who made you into what you are, and you thought to cheat us?" A tut of indignation came, a few mumbles of assent from behind them as the other members of the organization spoke their own disappointment with Serano. For his part, he knelt down so that he could be eye-level with him, a swirl of colors in his eyes as he bore into his very soul. More than just denying his organization, of betraying their contract and trying to cheat them, Serano had tried to betray him. That would simply not stand, not with him who had designed so much that was still underway. "You know what though?" And suddenly his tone shifted from the more serious to a light-hearted tone, gently clapping the frozen-man's shoulder almost in camaraderie.

"Everything is good."

"We don't need you." Serano's eyes widened out of terror, knowing that despite the friendly tones, the smile right to his face, that this could only mean one thing. "I hear that Simon Wallace has been eyeing your position for quite a while. In fact, was it not him that you entrusted your little contingency plan to?" He held up an envelope in his right hand, making sure that he could see it quite clearly and that it was still bulging with papers and tapes within. "He was quite… Detailed with his recall of your conversation with him on this, and what you wanted him to do in case you suddenly disappeared. See, the two of us have some very different ideas on what loyalty is. For myself and my organization, we reward those who are always loyal, who put the organization and the cause above such selfish desires as power and fortunes. You on the other hand… Well, you only saw those who served you as 'loyal'. What you desired was not honest service to any cause, but mere yes-men to stroke your ego and make you feel as if you had what you so desperately wanted, but could never truly have."

"Power."

His left hand clenched into a fist before him, the slow cracking of bone and tearing of flesh becoming more and more audible as he ensured that Serano spent his final moments looking directly into his eyes and hearing how seriously he had fucked himself. "Wallace on the other hand, will get your second chance. Your body will be found two days from now in your home, the bodies of your wife and children alongside you and showing every sign that instead of choosing to go alone, you took them with you. This was your choice." One final snap sounded the end of his life, and just in time for more of the Justice League to arrive. Now things were beginning to become truly interesting as the beast began to struggle against its foes, at first simply on the backfoot from the sorceries employed by a mage on the streets and Wonder Woman's tenacity and refusal to submit. "Is that the Lantern?" Another of the organization asked, leaning forward in his seat as the ember of his cigar lit up his scarred face. Green light filled the darkened skies as a construct surrounded the beast and it seemed that the show was coming to an end.

At least it seemed so, until the walls of the cage around it began to flex, straining to contain such a beast. For what it was worth, it was a good call to look towards constricting the battlefield, and it helped to ensure that anyone who hadn't already been evacuated was well clear by now. "Appears so, though it doesn't look like the same one? I heard he had left some time ago. Perhaps we have a new one." The windows zoomed in on the action in the distance, enhancing and creating still images of each one of the combatants as and when a clear picture could be taken. Before each of the individuals in the room a haptic interface appeared and they began to scrutinize the finishing fight. "Grim is there as well, he was dispatching drones to guide civilians to safety. Ever quick with the tech solution, that one is. Quite admirable." One of the two women this time, her sultry voice slightly distorted as for a moment her appearance shifted and flickered and the shine of her lips twisting into a smirk was seen. "Yes, yes. While we all wouldn't mind seeing the face behind the mask, it's no secret you want to see a little more."

For a short moment an argument flared between the slighted woman and the more pompous man on the opposite end, right up until their leader held up his hand and indicated to them to pay attention. Silence followed and they wondered why he had called to a stop when from nowhere it seemed a plume of viscera and debris shot into the sky from where the Hydra had been just a moment before. The suite of cameras atop the building had captured every frame though, playing it back in slow motion as The Champion executed an elbow drop finisher that would have made any pro-wrestling fan tear up in joy. A single image was frozen across the windows, transparent enough to show the end of the battle in the distance, but clear enough for them all to see the Kryptonian in mid-elbow drop.

"Well, suppose that's it then." The pompous man spoke up, no small amount of disappointment clear in the distinct English tones of his voice. "I was hoping we would see Velocity make an appearance, but not anymore." Everyone returned to their hushed tones of review, watching over replays of the battle from multiple angles recorded around the city just now filtering in. From initial reports it seemed there were few to no casualties among the civilian populace, but there were quite a few missing from the disaster area. Their leader stepped forward to the glass, watching Champion step out of the corpse of the Hydra and address his fellows, for one moment meeting eyes with him from several miles away across the city. "Velocity has other matters to contend with at the moment, though rest assured that everything is going according to plan. Even with Serano's momentary lapse in patriotism, the schedule holds. Return to your duties, and one last thing…" He paused, indicating to a man in the back who had kept silent and awaiting instructions. "Once you've taken care of loose ends, get in contact with that mercenary. We will be needing his services for the next stage."

---

January 2nd, 12:00 PM (EST)
North-East of Atlanta, Georgia - Side of US Highway 85

There was a crisp and cool breeze that billowed the tops of the trees, bare branches swaying back and forth alongside the bustling highway and the rest stop between the lanes. Still early in the day most people were getting ready to get back on the road, either heading into the city or away from it after a long holiday and likely not quite as ready to get back to work. Among the bustle of travelers was a number of semi-trucks, one of which sporting the state's seal and a peach prominent to the side. While the fruit was not quite in season, trucks like these were a common site here and there ferrying their goods from off-season farms. It brought that gentle and sweet scent of fresh peaches that the state was known for, a man at the back smiling and waving as he handed out produce for cash from wooden crates stacked floor to ceiling.

Only one among them had arrived not by vehicle, but by foot instead. Her long hair swaying with the wind, a distinct red that caught eyes as she walked, Verra Valinova gave the man a couple dollars for a peach and made her way back to a nearby picnic table. She too was there just to relax for a moment, jeans tight and hugging her skin as she took the time to simply unwind and think for once. It had been a good while since she was in the states, at least a year or two last she remembered, and it seemed that she had just missed the talk of the nation. Ushering in the new year was an attack on Metropolis, the alert she had received on her way from Prague and would have responded to if not otherwise engaged. This time at least it had been handled without need for her, Champion finally dropping the elbow from orbit as they had joked about once or twice long ago. That felt like decades ago but was just one, her like now very different than it was when she started.

As she occupied herself with her phone looking up recent news and enjoying the fresh crisp of her peach a few eyes strayed her way, mostly a curious soul or another wondering how she got there without a vehicle. One man looked at her, and then the peach in his hand, a look as if he had been slighted as he turned to the peach seller, who simply laughed it off. No one would have guessed that she was Velocity though, the impossibility of such a hero hanging around at a rest stop off the main highway out of Atlanta too much to even fathom. That and the small bit of how sightings of her had been fewer and fewer of late. An article from one of the super magazines went into rather conspiratorial detail on her presence over the last few years, making some vague gestures on how she was apparently a corporate agent meant to test the popularity of super-heroes and their marketability??? Grim would have gotten a laugh out of that, she thought having a light chuckle at it as well as she shifted a little on the bench, adjusting her sweater and warming her hands a little bit.

The cool air was nice this time of year at least, and this far from the Scar people weren't nearly as on edge. It was almost normal. Quite the shift from where she had been over the last couple years, where every day was a struggle that might be the last. It brought a change in her mood that she wanted to be rid of, taking another bite into the peach she had bought and sighing as she looked over yet more news. Some politicians were trying to capitalize on the whole "Monsters are People" movement that was going around, a bunch of misguided and naive fools in her opinion, but still entitled to it. A sound bit came up of some popstar singing about it and Verra rolled her eyes, almost commenting aloud on how ridiculous it was. People with the money to have rode out the Two-Month War always seemed to be the first to talk about their suffering and the suffering of others, while completely ignoring those that were lost. She still remembered her little sister on that night, and how chance was all that kept her from becoming yet another number on Halloween.

Then again… The small red one at the top left of her phone's screen showed an unviewed voicemail, ten years old and still too painful to even think of opening. Lexi had been with her mother when the Scar was formed, and she was too far away and too slow to save even them from the destruction of Central City. Not literal like some towns out in the wastes, but a different kind. One more spiteful and purposeful. The buildings still stood, silent and watchful over a city of ash.

Verra sighed again, shutting off her phone and turning to put her back to the table, looking up into the sky as she wondered to herself what she would do. Being back here in the states was dredging up all the bad memories she had been trying to avoid, but it was clear she wasn't quite fast enough to run from them. Part of her wondered if she ever would be, and another thought back to that man's words and if she should run from all those feelings, and maybe instead use them. It was all quite a bit at the moment to think on, one hand idly coming up to fidget with her locket, inside a picture taken a decade ago of her family and of course her suit in case she found need for it.

Star Wars: The Harbor's Due

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Eye contact was brief and purposefully so due to the storm of incoming fire that scorched the crates and hull behind her. "If it's not one damn thing it's another!" Solace cursed out aloud, taking refuge behind a barrel next to the ramp door and slamming the controls to begin the process of shutting the door. Regardless of whether those inside wanted to be aboard or not, their choices were dwindling and not exactly ideal. The three at the end of the hangar slowly approached, and although the Mandalorian was by far the most obvious and pressing concern, something was off about the Devaronian that made her feel like he was something else entirely. Nearby though, Natasha and the Kuati girl made themselves known, firing back with moderate efficacy.

"New girl! Forget the Mando-cunt and shot the horned bastard!" Just as soon as the words left her lips the tell-tale blue flashes of an energy field dissipated the energy of those bolts that would have hit home. Armor and a personal energy shield… That was trouble, and any experienced mercenary knew that. Worse than your normal skilled killer, these were obviously not just highly skilled, but also successful if the state of their arms meant anything. Sure she might have had one or two toys of that nature hanging around the armory, and her crew was struggling to get a baradium fission device into the cargo hold before the ramp crushed it and them, or worse it got shot and went off, but there was having such things, and there was using them. Every merc worth their salt had a couple things laying around for a rainy day, never mind how much she hated that phrase. For these three to use them meant that they could either afford to lose them, or that they were confident enough in their skills.

Neither outcome sounded very good for their longterm prospects. What concerned her more though was that out of all three, not a single hit was found on the ship's register of bounty hunters and mercenaries. A list that she made sure that both herself and their resident information broker updated every time they made port. A list that contained not just sanctioned hired guns, but also the criminals, gang-members, assassins and more notorious individuals out there that didn't play by the rules. If these three didn't have records then either they were new, which was so unlikely as to be dismissed outright, or they had some very powerful benefactors. The kind of benefactors that could either be the Empire or the Hutts. "Fuck. Just what we need." At least Sena was safe on the upper decks and as well armed as they seemed to be, they didn't entirely think through their little plan.

More than just that, she had a well-trained and experienced crew that not only out-numbered the kill team assembled before them, but they had forgotten one minor detail. It was not often that she allowed Sable to enjoy himself to such extent, but this time it felt like just such an occasion where playing light was not in their interests.

"To hell with mercy, no warning shots Sable. Give them a full broadside and paint the hangar walls! We'll sort it out with Port Authority later."

Star Wars: The Harbor's Due

@webboysurf@Tracyarmav@Seirei No Hai

As it has been some time since I last heard from you guys, I've taken the liberty of moving your characters to the inactive section of the character tab and removed your SW tags on the discord. Please do get in touch with me if you've got something going on that is preventing you from posting and you prefer to remain in the RP, or at the very least let me know if the RP is just something you're not interested in anymore.