Recent Statuses

6 mos ago
Current Yes, I'm an oversize child. Deal with it. :P
9 mos ago
That moment you've got too many rp ideas floating in your head, but you don't want to overwhelm yourself? Yeah... I'm right there, suffering in silence.
11 mos ago
RP hunting is like finding the rare toy in the cereal box. Doable, but the time and effort is nearly more than I can bare!
2 yrs ago
That amazing high when you realized how far you've come in improving your writing. It's impossible to describe, but drowns you in a positive glow.
2 yrs ago
I love being a terrible person by making my PCs' lives miserable, it's art form that never gets old or boring.


Personal details I've got enough room to share.

Nicknames....Fallen (preferred), Reaper, Devour of lost souls, etc.
Sign...............Libra (true to sign surprisingly)
Occupation....Wandering and exploring the caves of my insane mind
Location.........USA (Lost in the Cornfields!)



Click the links (Titles) below to be taken directly to the thread.

Advance RP

Accepting: GM/Co-GM Nitemare Shape, Hound55, & Dedonus

Casual RP

Chrono Asylum
Accepting: GM Xodus

On the Verge of War, new leaves spring.
Accepting: GM/Co GM KillBox & Kurisa

Nation RP

Formaroth Part 2: Throne of Lies
Still Accepting: GM TheDuncanMorgan

Arena RP

None yet.

Extra Stuff Featuring: Flight Rising.

Arena Stats

1 Wins / 1 Losses / 0 Draws
1100 points

Most Recent Posts


Time: Afternoon
Location: Lost Haven, Sherman Square

A few minutes after storming out of the garage, Kayla had come to a stop. All that thought of trying to act strong around people like Jai and Racheli and in the end, she felt weaker than she had ever been. Hiding in an alleyway, away from the eyes of the public, she allowed herself to breakdown and cry. Hiding behind the dumpster from the alleyway entrance, the archer had curled herself up into a ball against the wall and dumpster. Her face was buried into her knees as her wails were muffled.

I can’t deal with this, she thought, thinking back to Jai and Leila that she left behind. Out of everything he had done, why did old man Taylor give Jai the job to work alongside her? He knew her the best and knew what would happen if she broke down. So why? All the flashbacks of her getting shot were blurred between Jason and Jai, which was getting harder for her to turn herself around. Slowly, the medications she took in the garage were kicking in. Her shaking shoulder eased off as she calmed herself. The flashbacks were fading away too as her mind focused on her shot cycle. After a few moments, Kayla looked up to see if anyone was watching her.

” I can always rely on archery to get me back,” she muttered quietly, slowly getting up from the ground. She dusted off the back of her work trousers from the dust from the alleyway floor. Wiping away the rest of the tears from her reddened face, she picked up the arrow tube. Slowly, she began walking away from her hiding place towards home. ”I think some ice cream is in order,” she concluded to herself. That and binge-watching any shitty tv show that was on tonight.

A loud scraping sound echoed in the alleyway. A nearby sewer lid pushed up and slid to the side, followed by cursing mumbles under someone’s breath. In a few moments, a woman with short, brown hair revealed herself. Racheli finished pushing the lid aside before she climbed out, twisting her figure to sit on the edge. She took a moment to catch her breath.

Casually her eyes shifted alongside the alley’s interior until they rested on Kayla.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice flooded into an annoyed, unconcerned tone.

As she listened for an answer to her question, her figure was already pushing onto her feet.

Kayla had heard the scraping sounds as she walked away. Slowing down, she looked around to discern if it was the sound coming from the alley or from somewhere in the city. By this point, the unusual things in the city were frequent enough for her to know that everything is a possibility.

She only snapped into attention when a familiar voice came from behind her. Spinning around, the archer saw her friend sitting on the lip of the opening to the sewer. That explains the sound, she concluded. But even so, her emerging from the sewers was unusual. And the tone in her voice… that was something that made Kayla nervous. Despite not showing it, the earlier interaction that happened in the garage was still weighing heavily on her mind.

”Oh hey Rach,” Kayla responded in a contrasting warm tone. ”I was just making my way home from the garage. Will need some time off my feet after everything.” There was a slight pause, causing the faint smile that she had to disappear into concern. ”Rach… Is everything alright? You disappeared in a rush after the nanites healed my injuries. And why were you in the sewers?”

Racheli eyed her up then down a moment. A suspicion crossed her face at Kayla’s approach while she seemed to debate something in her head, finally relaxing some. Her right hand pulled up to the back of her neck and scratched it softly a few times.

“I needed to be alone. Sewers seemed like the best place because there was no one around to pry into my business. As for my disappearance, I need to clear my head. That’s it,” Racheli was careful to keep her replies vague as she walked over to the sewer lid and began to slide it over.

It moved easily and slipped into the hole, the grooves kept it in place. As she finished up, her attention turned back to Kayla. The eyes seemed void of any sense of recognition but it didn’t linger long. Her head tilted away and stared at the wall, her voice continued to talk.

“I hit my head on the way down so my memory is a little hazy.”

Kayla’s body remained in a neutral, non-responsive position. The pause from Racheli as she was eyeing the archer up seemed off. While the woman standing in front of her looked like Racheli, the archer’s gut feeling was hinting that this was someone else entirely. She dismissed the thought completely as she was tired and wanted to go home and rest. But the thought will remain in the back of her mind for her to process later.

The archer nodded at what Rach was saying. It did make sense that she needed the privacy as Midas could still be keeping an eye on her and anyone she’s in contact with. It also helped that Rach was also a wanted person for things that had happened in the past, though what they were was out of Kayla’s reach at the moment. As for ‘clearing her head’ after what happened in the garage, that part made a lot of sense. She didn’t take the metahuman for the sort to try and clear her head, but it might have been one of those occasions.

However, despite the responses given to her, the thought that the person in front of her wasn’t Racheli crept back into Kayla’s mind. And two things stood out to her from that. The first things: Racheli is having difficulty recalling memories after falling into the sewer, yet still have her memories when riddled with bullets? That made no sense to her at all. And the second thing? Where’s the usual tagalong that came with her with these conversations? He always had some snarky quip to fire off at key moments in the conversation.

Kayla had to test something in that case, just to make sure. ”You seem to get yourself into a right state, huh Rach? Hopefully, you still remember my name after the fall, right?” While she was tired and the suspicions were still in mind, the archer put on a show to give Racheli a cheeky grin.

Racheli swayed her head to the side a bit, her lips pinched together. She narrowed her eyes at Kayla before she answered, her tone indifferent to the question.

“Didn’t you state you needed to get off your feet? If you’re that tired, I doubt you could even recall your own name.”

With that, she flipped her hood over her head and began to walk around Kayla. She gestured for the woman to follow her as she answered back.

“The answer is Kayla.”

Kayla was a bit puzzled that her wording of ‘getting off her feet’ was misconstrued to being too tired for anything, even recalling her name. Her eyes followed Racheli as she walked around the archer. So far, nothing seemed threatening about her. When her name was actually said, she relaxed. Guess I’m just getting worked up over nothing, she thought. Perhaps their ‘friend’ just didn’t want to speak to her for the rest of the day.

The archer turned on her heels and began following Racheli out of the alleyway. ”Just had to check. Head injuries can be serious, after all.” She shifted the tube she was carrying up onto her shoulder as it began to slip down during the conversation. ”So, any plans for the rest of the day? No news from Midas?”

“Yeah, of course, you were,” Racheli wasn’t convinced.

When she reached past her friend, her head looked over her shoulder. A suspicious look enveloped her expression but quickly faded into indifference and calm. It was obvious she didn’t believe Kayla’s excuse for the question. The moment the topic changed, Racheli latched onto it.

She bit her lip in thought before she answered. Each of her weaving and twisting movements ensured she didn’t touch anyone in the increasing crowds while she walked, not appearing to be fond of brushing against anyone.

“First off, I’m heading to the apartment to get cleaned up. I’m pretty sure the cops could smell me a mile away because of the stench. After that… no idea, her nose wrinkled at the statement as she waved off the smell with her right hand.

“No one, not even Midas, has called me today. So I have no idea what’s going on with him.”

Kayla noticed the suspicious look. With everything that happened at that moment, she wasn’t sure of what to make of it. But with Rach giving her name, she just let it go as something that her fatigued state might be making.

Shaking head to delay fatigue, Kayla followed Racheli through the crowds. With her head swimming from the crash in energy, she barely noticed that her friend was weaving through the crowd to avoid touching them. ”Yeah, that makes sense,” she replied, still hiding the recoil from the stench. ”I guess we both can relax for the rest of the day.” Finishing her sentence, she yawned, covering her mouth with her left hand. ”This is despite the fact that I’m still wary of Midas not having done anything since The Hounds attacked.”

"He'll do something, but no point in worrying about it. It adds more stress than we need," she continued through the crowd.

They reached the edge, the densest part behind them, causing Rach to glance over at Kayla. She bit her lip and sighed, seeming to hide her irritation.

"So, where am I dropping you off at? There's no way in hell I'm going to let you wander off while you look like that. If you could see yourself, even you would wonder how you're still standing."

By this time, her figure had pulled to the opposite side of the street and walked in pace with Kayla. Her hands had buried themselves into her pockets. The chains swayed with each step and clanked against her clothes. She ensured to keep her hood down while she avoided making her face visible to anyone, even her friend.

Kayla simply nodded in agreement with the statement. Though she still remembers the drones that attacked Chinatown that almost got her caught up in the blast, there hasn’t really been anything from him. While the quiet is rather troublesome, worrying about it now isn’t going to help in any way. Like the saying goes, she thought. No news is good news.

Clamping her eyes shut momentarily to eke out a bit more energy to stay awake, Kayla didn’t notice the irritated look Rach gave her. She then looked at her friend, a little bit surprised with what was said. ”Though that might be harsh, you’re probably right,” the archer replied, feeling another yawn coming on. ”It’s why I’m heading home via bus than riding my bike home. Don’t want to injure myself again.” Kayla noticed that Rach had been avoiding being facially recognized to anyone, but she dismissed it due to the notion of not being seen and recognized. That’ll make things difficult for both Rach and her if people started picking up on that. ”The bus stop I need isn’t too far ahead. It’s just around a few corners.”

Rach scoffed then added, "Better blunt than a liar." Kayla chuckled in agreement.

Her words fell silent while she continued to walk alongside Kayla. The crowd dissipated leaving them alone once more. To distract herself, Rach eyes turned to the street. The traffic moved and people began to rush back to their jobs causing her to chuckle. It died down when they finally arrived at the bus stop.

"I'll leave you here and see you tomorrow. Where do you want to meet up?" Rach asked with a cool tone, her feet stopped a few feet short of the bench.

The bus, as if on cue, arrives as they reached the bus stop. Kayla looks at Rach, ”Well, with us having a day off tomorrow due to the garage being closed, I suppose we could do something in the French Quarter. Sound good?” With an agreement on what to do, the archer hops onto the bus and sits down. As it slowly makes its route, a thought crossed her mind. I guess I can invite Jai along too, seeing that he has the day off too.

Homeward Bound

Time: Morning (Fall)
Location: Fishgrove, Ralda

Fishgrove wasn't like Nyhem, save for the people going about their morning. Among the streets, people cried, walked or stared at the odd sight driving into town. It was a spotted Mao that urged the oxen through the crowded streets and past the gawking audiences. With a sharp jerk of the reins, she guided it to the side where the wagon abruptly stopped. Feline grace showed in her dismount as she rushed to the back and held up a paw-like hand. A bluish one edged out then took Kiseo’s hand, Dyril letting the Mao guide her down onto the street.

Casually, Dyril’s eyes scanned the scene. Like her servant, she wasn’t surprised at the gawking in their direction. It happened in Nyhem and here saw even fewer Elven kin. She coughed to distract her thoughts while she turned to Kiseo.

“So, this is Fishgrove,” she snatched onto the first subject that entered her mind.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I believe,” Dyril stepped closer to the nearest building, “we meet the guide here, right?”

Kiseo nodded then pointed at a tavern. The building’s stone looked wet, weathered by sea and the elementals. Mostly men stepped out from the doors back into the streets. Their rough appearance indicated that the bar served mostly the working class as Dyril felt her spine shiver in discomfort. She had little again rougher men, but her last encounters of them in a bar did not end well. Steeling her nerves, her eyes turned to Kiseo and the Mao’s returned glance reassured her she wouldn’t be alone.

It fueled her enough to head into the bar.

Several heads turned toward her, their eyes hard and expressions difficult to read. Quickly as they started, the curiosity faded and most returned to their drinks. Dyril ignored them when she made her way to the barkeeper. She tapped on the counter drawing an elderly man’s attention, his hand paused in wiping a used glass clean.

A thick accent coated his next words, “Oi, we don’t see many of your kind in Formaroth. What can I git ya?”

“Directions would be appreciated,” Dyril began to describe the man, revealing he was supposed to be their guide to some land.

“Yeah, I know the bloke. He’s over there,” the man pointed to a wiry individual sitting off in the corner.

Dyril thanked the man and turned to face the table, walking toward it. The man lifted his hood to face the half-Elven woman with a slightly drunken smile on his lips.

“I wasn’t expecting a half-breed would’ve owned the land or I might’ve requested more money.”

Dyril’s lip curled briefly before she inhaled, her expression cleared of her thoughts.

“You’re Smith?”

“Yep…” He took another draft of his ale then set it aside.

He rose to his feet and indicated to the door, “Shall we head out now?”


Alright, I'm hoping to be able to get to work on a post tomorrow. As of late I've been helping a co-worker who's health has been in steady decline over the last couple of months with stage 4 cancer, which has been a strain on me. My boss and I have both been going to check on him to make sure he's still alive, and helping him with appointments. This is part of the reason for my lack of posting as of late. Again, it's taken a bit of a toll on me emotionally and physically.
Today he was taken to, and checked into hospice care where he will spend the rest of his days. As you can imagine, it's been a rough couple of months and my posting (both frequency and quality) have been affected. I am hoping that with this now being taken off my plate, I'll be able to get back on a more steady posting schedule.


*hugs you* Best I can do, but it's the thought that counts. My best wishes for you and to help you though this rough patch in your life.
Hide and Seek: Part 1

Location: Benjamin’s home, NYC
Time: Morning, month after the Wolf Hunt.

Darkness cleared to a scene Benjamin didn’t expect.

Someone’s hands found his throat. They wrapped about then squeezed, forcing the air from his throat. His lungs burned in the struggled as his fingers failed to tear them off. The attacker straddled him, pinning Benjamin to the ground, while the strangling continued. Benjamin’s heart raced in vain as his air died inside his lungs. Gradually, his dying breath whispered out a question.

His voice sounded feminine and faint.


Benjamin felt his assailant smirk rather than saw, his vision sought around any means for one last stand. His eyes found the floor mirror. The reflection shocked his common sense. Instead of his own image shown, it was a blond, pale-skinned woman staring back at him. Unconsciousness consumed them both.

Benjamin jerked upright in his bed. His hand reached up to touch his temple, the sharp pounding pulsed through his head and reminded him he was alive. For the first time in a long one, he was grateful for it. His nightmare’s vivid images pushed at his memory, but he ignored them. Casually he twisted his feet about his bed edge then pushed into a standing posture.

He stood dressed in only his boxers while he scanned his closet. Finally, he picked out a pair of worn jeans and tee-shirt, getting dressed for the day.

Benjamin stealthily navigated into the kitchen, worried he might encounter Daniel’s girlfriend. Something was wrong. It hit him the moment he entered the room, noticing that Emma was nowhere to be seen. Usually, she would’ve been cooking food for his morning meal, but there were no familiar aromas lingering in the air. A sinking depression threatened to creep into his core before he jerked away from it. His figure walked to the refrigerator and looked inside.

Leftovers were usually neatly packed away in individual portions on the shelf. His eyes lingered on the location but found nothing. It appeared they were all cleared away without any new ones taking their place. A strange sensation stirred in his gut as he grabbed the eggs, bacon and a premade protein shake.

He began to make his own breakfast while guzzling down the protein shake to stave off hunger.

His memories of last night were hazy as he used the bacon grease to cook the eggs over easy. When he finished up, he turned off the stove and headed upstairs with his food. The last thing he wanted was to become trapped by Lori down here. When he reached his room, his free hand picked up a remote and flipped on the tv.

The background noise of the news anchor was welcomed routine compared to the night’s strangeness.

**Las Vegas**

Duff stood outside Ben’s room. His knuckles were white as they banged on the door for the tenth time, no one answering it. The wolf’s instinct snarled something was wrong causing Duff’s impatience to get the better of him. He glanced around then subtly jerked the handle, breaking it in a subtle movement. As the door open, Duff glanced inside. Nothing was amiss at first until the older wolf’s eyes focused onto the bed. It looked like it had been barely slept in.

Two scents hit Duff immediately. One was Ben’s, but the other he was not familiar with. A younger boy who’s natural musk mingled with sterilization agents and something he couldn’t place. The wolf’s upper lip curled into a snarl before he snorted.

He edged deeper in, checking the room.

“Benjamin? Are you ready to go?”


There was no scent leading out so Ben didn’t leave through the door. In fact, the smell abruptly stopped in front of a wall and then nothing. Not happy about the unknown, Duff reached for his cell phone and texted the contact number Barron gave him.

‘Benjamin is missing.’
Kindness Is A Strange Creature

Location: Nyhem Warehouse
Time: Afternoon, 2 weeks after Claus’ incident with Jain.
Collab with: @SunderedEcho

The salt air and bubbling foam behind the docks assaulted Dyril. Rowdy dogs barked at lazy cats, the scent of the morning catch draw a wrinkle from her nose. Unlike Arianna, the half-elf preferred solid ground rather than a rocking ship beneath her feet. Her shoes darted across the waterlogged planks as she made her way toward Arianna’s ship, the Sunfury.

It was distinct enough without the name. The only Catamaran in the harbor, but Dyril had trouble finding it the first time. She didn’t exactly know her ships very well. Now she could find it with her eyes closed.

She walked past the dockmaster into the piers, the stout and short man merely glancing her way. He only took note, jotting her name down, then snapped the registry shut. Dyril had paid a fair price for the ability to come and go willingly. The fact she knew a VIP’s daughter helped too. Her idle thoughts were pushed aside as she began to walk right up to the Sunfury’s ramp before stalling at the end. Men and women, trained and used to sea life, trampled about the deck above her. They hoisted ropes, pulled sails upward, and casually mopped the surface clear of any salty remains. No movement wasted any energy beyond the work.

Upon first arriving, Dyril quickly realized Arianna had her crew well educated in her expectations. It brought heavy respect in her heart to see it.

Patiently, Dyril waited at the side for Arianna to show up. Men rolled thick barrels filled with supplies onto the ship and carefully navigated around her.

Several more minutes passed before Arianna arrived. The crew respectfully ignored the guest aboard the ship, a privilege granted to few on the advanced Summer Isles navy vessels. They were used to their captain allowing this particular guest aboard by now, and even they understood that the Elves had little to learn from close observation of even Formaroth’s most advanced ships.

When she finally did arrive, she stalked up the ramp with a scowl on her face. She was clutching some parchments with official-looking seals on them in one hand. As she set foot on the deck of the ship, one of her crew approached and she handed the parchments to him.

Naturally, Dyril observed it, but she decided not to inquire or comment on it. Some matters were best left alone. This was a fact she had come to learn within Formaroth, mainly the differences between human and Elven culture. Humans had less value on reputation than her family ever did.

Her mind drifted to her current situation. She had little to no idea how to retrieve her goods from Mr. Surya, a man with heavy racism toward anything resembling an Elf. This complicated things for her since she highly doubted a simple receipt could prevent him from extorting further money from her.

She let the thought float away when her peripheral vision caught Arianna approach her. Dyril’s lips curled into a smile, eager for the distraction from her gloom.

“I assume you have everything sorted out and ready to be off?” She asked in a cheerful tone.

Arianna, still in a sour mood, exasperatedly exclaimed “The accursed dockmaster was withholding vital supplies! Apparently, the new Imperial Naval Administration has priority on ammunition and quality timbers now, and the Summer Isles Navy has to wait!” She forcibly stopped herself as she noticed sidelong glances coming from some of her crew.

She took a moment to breathe, then carried on, finally letting the presence of her friend cheer her up somewhat. “It's just administrative difficulty. You know how it is, bureaucracies always take forever to adapt to change. How are you this fine day Dyril?”

“Indeed. Let me guess, the man’s name is Mr. Surya?” Dyril’s tone took a hint of bitterness, through only Arianna was close enough to catch it.

“No…” Arianna said after a moment. “Didn’t you hear? One Jain Surya destroyed a warehouse and disappeared a few days ago. Apparently, he is quite the mage. And quite the rogue. No, my troubles come from a much more mundane source. The Summer Isles Navy has always had priority resupply rights, but some overly patriotic buffoons in the Naval supply yards have declared that the Imperial Navy comes first now. So their overly gaudy Galleys can get all the supplies while they sit idle in their docks. Ha!”

Arianna was still clearly annoyed but had noticed how Dyril had mentioned Surya. She would have to follow up on that now.

Dyril’s head tilted then turned to her friend, her eyes studied the sea woman for a moment.

“Actually, no. I knew there was an incident on the docks, but beyond that, there was little information,” Dyril commented.

She was secretly relieved she would never have to deal with that pompous ass again. Maybe it would make getting her goods out of lock and key easier, but she held doubts about it. Things were never that simple. She inhaled then gripped the ship’s banister, pushing off it.

“It sounds like you could use some fun or at least time away from the issue,” Dyril observed, her tone considerably lighter now.

Arianna smiled at her friend then, sounding somewhat relieved. “Yes. Yes, I could. Did you have anything in mind? More spearfishing perhaps?”

Dyril’s figure turned about to face her friend. A thought crossed her mind as she looked into the eyes, realizing how pretty they were. Discarding the thought, her mind returned to the words she wanted to say.

“I think I’ll still spear a rock like last time. I don’t think we ever got that fixed as it was lodged pretty deeply,” Dyril noted, amused by the memory.

“However, if you really want to… I could try to avoid hitting a rock this time.”

A huge grin began to creep over Arianna’s face at the memory of their last expedition. The half-elf had been so earnest in trying to learn to fish, but some people just weren’t cut out for it - to an amusing result.

“Maybe not then.” She said mirthfully. “I seem to remember you promising to show me some enchanted things last time we met…”

“Considering I can likely get my stock out of the warehouse now, that is a considerably more appealing idea,” Dyril smiled, her figure moved from the banister toward the gangplank.

It wasn’t a far walk as they entered onto the pier and made their way into the local warehouse. Torches and cracks in the panels created eerie shadows on both of them. Casually, Dyril took one for better light. She scanned the various carvings on the wooden surfaces. Each label was written in Elven, the crude symbols were alien to anyone ignorant of their meaning.

She passed by the first box, then the second and finally came to rest at the last one. Dyril blew off the collected dust to ensure it was the correct one. A smile crept along her face as she turned back to Arianna, explaining her behavior.

“Sorry for the wait, I had to find the right crate. Can you pass me the crowbar, please?”

Arianna looked around and spotted an iron crowbar on a wall. She picked it off its shelf and moved over to where Dyril was standing, looking curiously at the crates.

“My Elven is a bit shabby… Haven’t needed to polish it up in a long time.” She pointed to one of the other crates. “Does that say potions? What sort of things do you have in there? Any love potions? We could have some fun with those…”

Dyril stopped dead in her tracks, her head jerked into her friend’s direction. For a moment, she wasn’t sure what to say. There were no ‘love’ potions in the manifest. In truth, there were no such things. The closest things were brews that could make one attracted to your scent and commonly used among the upper class’s young singles to pursue suitors.

Curious to see if Arianna was correct, Dyril drew closer and looked over the woman’s shoulder. She fought a snicker at the incorrect translation of the label.

“I think you and I can likely work on your Elven if you wish? That says healing amulets,” Dyril gently corrected.

“Are you curious to how they work?”

“Oh.” Arianna replied, initially disappointed. “Sure. We can look at these now, and the Elven later.” Then her face was split with a big silly grin. “But the look on your face… Absolutely worth it. Adorable.”

Dyril felt the heat in her cheeks, her denim blue skin turned a hint darker.

“Please, that’s not funny. I’m not adorable, at least by anyone’s standards,” Dyril claimed as she recalled painful memories.

“Sure you are.” Arianna said, moving to the Crate, crowbar in hand. She had a feeling she knew why Dyril might make such a comment. “You should see what some of the Summer Island youth do to get attention.” She laughed, reminiscing to her days in the Circle. “Young mages and illusion magic… combined with a lot of drink. It's quite the show. You’re positively mundane next to that pageantry.”

She stepped back so Dyril could get at the crate. “The Summer Isles are very accepting of the strange and wonderful you know. I think you’d like it there.”

Dyril took the crowbar, her eyes avoided Arianna for a moment. She pushed the tool’s end into the wooden lid’s edge and began to wiggle it back then forth.

“Yes, but I don’t have a gift like you. I can’t cast magic or do interesting things. I can only do crude replications of your art with items using mandrake oil and assistance, which is rather common for my culture,” Dyril admitted, feeling the words pour from her.

“To be frank, there are actually very few places a hybrid like myself actually fits in. Unless you count a brothel.”

Arianna looked at Dyril then, with an incredulous expression. “Maybe in your homeland, but here in Formaroth, you’re even more special than me. That skillset of yours is unique. Not a single another soul anywhere else on this continent can give the gift of magic to those born without.”

Dyril paused in her efforts to pry the lid open. Her hand shifted a few strands of her curly, black hair from her vision as she observed her friend. Arianna wasn’t a born or trained liar. The words were sincere causing surprise to enter her eyes, widening at Arianna’s words. She wasn’t sure what to say. Unique, at least in appearance, was frowned on back home, but here it was seen to be exotic and interesting.

“I’m… I’m not sure how to react. The catch to that, if I don’t get the mandrakes growing on the continent then it’s unlikely I’ll be able to give magic to anyone,” Dyril sighed then shook the thought away.

“For what it’s worth, it does warm my heart that you value me at least.”

She resumed pushing the crowbar, but the lid wasn’t budging. Even though the strained grunting, it was easy to tell Dyril lacked the strength and finally submitted defeat by turning to Arianna.

“Can you help me?” She quietly asked.

Arianna simply smiled and stepped closer, taking the crowbar in her hands and, with a single forceful motion, wrenching the crate open. Like all sailers, she was use to climbing rigging and lifting heavy things in high seas, so it was no trouble for her.

“Of course Dyril. You’re my friend. And I’m sure you’ll get the Mandrakes growing somewhere.”

“Aside from Kiseo, I’ve never had a friend before. It’s a bit odd,” Dyril said as she digested the words, considering what it meant.

As she flinched at the wrench of the wood giving into Arianna’s will, she considered her long task ahead of her.

“I managed to obtain some land in Ralda. It will actually be an interesting experience for me,” she recalled the information she learned through her mother’s unsent letters.

Her human family had owned the region after all and it laid toward the east, rather close to the coast.

“Ralda?” Arianna said, more stating than asking. “That is only a short sail from the Isles. Is your land anywhere near the coast?” She lifted the lid from the crate and stepped aside so Dyril could get to its contents.

“I’m still learning the geography of this continent, but I think it is. I’ll have to correct that information when I arrive,” Dyril quietly said, fighting the urge to grumble about her oversight.

She stepped forward to pull out a single, ruby with a piece of twine and leather braided through it. It was designed to hang at the wrist. Despite appearances, the twine was enchanted to hold tightly to the individual’s wrist and resist any attempts to cut it off. Sadly it didn’t protect the hand from being severed off.

When Dyril turned to look at Arianna and bit her lip.

“This works better on cuts and slices, but I have seen it ease sickness. The bad part, I don’t think either of us are physically wounded. So the effects will be felt, but they won’t do anything.”

Listening carefully, Arianna’s face took on a mischievous expression. “It works well on cuts? I trust you.” She said.

It was then she pulled her shortsword half from its sheath and gently ran her palm across it. She winced slightly, then let the sword fall back into its sheath. Promptly holding forth her hand, she looked expectantly at Dyril.

The half-elf froze in place. Her narrow eyes widened in surprise and instinctively her right foot stepped back when the weapon was drawn. She fought the rising flinch when she watched Arianna’s sword slice through her own palm, unfamiliar with someone performing self-inflicting wounds.

Taking a moment to collect her panic and shove it back into its box, Dyril stepped forward. Her breath muttered a few elven words found engraved on the gem. It glowed red as she took the cut hand into her own. She let the light bath the wound, the glow hyper-focused on the thin line and tingling began to surface underneath the skin. The sensation spread from one end of the wound to the other before Arianna could feel her flesh start to mend itself. In a few moments, the hand became good as new.

Dyril admired her work before she released a smile. Both relief and enjoyment mingled with each other on her face, breaking her usually a stoic expression.

“How do you feel?” She asked.

Arianna looked down at her hand, turning it over once and then looking back at her palm. The slice was totally gone. “Impressed.” She said. “That was remarkably swift. Make enough of these and you’ll put the city healers out of a job completely.” She grinned. “Are these really common in Beilokias?”

“The wealthier Elves prefer mage care. These tend to be used for day to day wounds. I did mention appearance was an important part of our culture which means flaws not associated with battle or benefit toward the Imperial, is devaluing for the individual,” Dyril explained, noting that individuals that bore such marks were often slaves, criminals or the poor.

She edged back to the crate, still speaking as she lifted the lid, “Even with the praise, they have their limitations. They take a lengthy time to develop and when the magic is used up, they are completely useless. It’s why mages hold such value, even as slaves.”

Dyril paused a moment, her hand held the trinket and a thought crossed her heart. Gently she closed the lid without returning it to the crate then presented it to Arianna.

“You seem fond of hurting yourself, I think it might be best if you hold on this one. Consider it a gift.”

Arianna laughed, amused by the remarkably prescient comment. “Oh if you only knew. I’m sure the ship's healer will be happy not having to see me as often.” She grinned and took the trinket from Dyril, placing it in one of the pouches on her belt. “Thank you.” She added quickly.

Dyril took a moment to process the words, her expression revealed some of her surprise at the comment. Quickly her mask came back down as she nodded, a silent welcome toward her newfound friend. The hybrid took a moment to actually glance around then spoke again.

“So, would you accept an invitation back to the Inn I’m staying at? We can order some something to drink and you can tell me all about the Isles you mentioned earlier.”

“Of course.” Arianna said. “I’m always happy to talk about my homeland. Especially with someone who doesn’t care about the politics involved…” She smiled, gesturing for Dyril to lead the way.

The two women drifted out of the warehouse as their voices echoed into the darkness, the tones pleasant and merry in each other’s company.

𝔸𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕣 ℝ𝕙𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤

Alistair’s figured remained still. His hands found his pockets and feet subtly bounced on his balls, giving off an aura of childish impatience. For greater changes, he wished his alchemy was faster. Often he had to plan prior to the meetings in order to give the best first impression. However, he wasn’t working with someone that was used to his methods and caution was best. Everyone was on the edge which didn’t help.

When Kiara’s voice entered his head, Alistair’s eyes shifted toward her direction. A simple, physical acknowledgment about her reprimand. The silence was his answer as his drive flared a slightly bit more, then finally fizzled out. Evidence of it all dissipated into the air. At times, he wondered why Tabion offered him the overseer job. Especially when he warned the older Asylum, he played to ensure ARMO’s future even if it meant breaking the rules. Times were changing and that meant the Corporation would have to start making changes too, for the better.

His mind jerked back to the present when a sledgehammer from Rena’s Alchemy drive slammed into his head. It seemed the Chrono’s profile was correct. Her reactions were more positive than he expected, though the resulted didn’t match up with most people’s definition of it. His hand jerked up as he cradled his temple, his breath sharply inhaled then released.

When Rena’s little demonstration ended, he felt the throbbing headache pass. Even JC’s, the little rogue alchemist who’s abilities didn’t make the cut, music didn’t quite match up. Once it dulled into a manageable state, Alistair’s hand fell from his temple back to his side. He genuinely smiled at the young girl. Finally, he nodded in agreement to her statement. At least one of the pair wasn’t completely changed by the event.

There was some relief in this for him.

Alistair’s eyes darted to check on each team’s reaction, knowing he was to blame for the pain. Cade, out of all them, hadn’t fared very well. The blond haired man struggled to focus while his patient had jumped and rushed toward the door. His right hand held his glasses as he rubbed his nose bridge, his legs folded underneath him. Samad’s reaction surprised Alistair most though. The Iranian had crouched down beside Cade and began to search through the medical bag. He withdrew a bottle then read it. It seemed to be the thing he was looking for as he popped two pills into his palms and passed them to Cade’s. He pulled out a water bottle twisted open the cap for Cade to chase it down with.

Alistair wasn’t inwardly pleased with Rena’s immediately retreat for ice cream while they were lead to meet Angel. When the conversation with Angel began, he could see why too clearly. As Angel appeared to ready himself to assault them, he decided to step in and make an attempt to calm things down. Or at least, keep Angel’s ire on himself.

What he was about to say couldn’t be put delicately, but he hoped it might stir Angel’s common sense to the surface.

“And are you willing to let your partner share your fate as well? One partner’s actions have consequences that affect them both. You know she’ll fight with you until the end if you do this and you both will die, go insane, or be forever on the run. Please, tell me you aren’t heartless enough to do that to her,” Alistair stated, his voice calm and not threatening.

He let the words sink in as he casually walked in between the Asylums and Angel, ensuring he was to be the first target in Angel would attack. His hands were held out for the Lost Number to see while he watched carefully. Deep down the Overseer suspected his rank in ARMO provided no protection now. Oddly, it didn’t bother him. No fear radiant off his person as he stood in the attack zone. In his childhood and the world outside ARMO, this was an element he accepted a long time ago.

Everything dies eventually.

However, he wasn’t willing to lay down like a dog and accept his fate without some difficulty. A deeper, more emphatic part of him hoped Angel wouldn’t force his hand. After reading Angel’s and Reri’s profiles, he knew Angel had a soft spot for children and Alistair didn’t really want to use his specialty in this way. Especially to keep the broken man before them from attacking. Some of his admiration from reading Angel’s more recent exploits crumbled into disappointment.

‘Geko and Yin, could you two get ready to get the Asylums out of here should things get ugly. The mission is a little more important than the teams wasting their time trying to wrestle two unwilling Asylums along. I’ll meet the group there later,’ Alistair replied to only Geko and Yin mentally.

The last part was a blunt lie. If things went horribly wrong, this would be the last time he would see them and all three of them knew it.
Going to try to have a post for Benjamin in three days.
Any main player characters in the sewers in Lost Haven, feel free to contact me over a scene and connection with Rach. XD
A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Location: Lost Haven, from Jai’s garage to the sewers
Time: July- Noon

Racheli’s anger seeth silently. Her fingers dug deeply into her palms. Red filtered her vision, but she bit her tongue hard enough she could taste the vile, black liquid filling up her mouth. Every tendon tensed within her system as she fought her temper’s rising degrees. Kayla’s words pounded into her head’s core leaving Racheli bitter and inadequate. Memories from when she was first infected flooded her attention. All the sights, scents and sensations became vivid causing her to fight back hot tears.

Her mouth coughed up blood, the wet sticky substance washed down the drain by water. Weakness weighed down her body as she crawled across the wooden floor, her strength vanished thanks to the heat. Bones and flesh alike burned with the crackling pain that brought her down.

Despite Kayla’s painful display, the woman simply ejected the virus’ effects like it was nothing.


The word penetrated her consciousness like a bullet into the head. It left her stunned then ashamed at her will’s failure to fight back and remain human. That sorrow turned into pissed energy, fueling her emotional conflict. A rage under the skin. Subtle signs began to show as nearby metal gravitated toward her, some melted then stuck to her surface.

Knowing she would say something or do irreversible, Rach twisted on her heel. When she reached the door, her hand jerked it open and slammed it shut behind her. The handle retained the dentations of her fingers on its shape. Abruptly, nearby tools fell off the rack at the small wall tremor.

For a moment before Rach drifted out of range, the virus’ eyes lingered on Kayla. Venom and suspicion twisted up his calm demeanor, his damaged pride showed through. His words echoed in Kayla’s with a tone of disapproval.

‘It was kind of you to prove who was stronger,’ he vanished when his words finished.

The July heat hit her head on. The full effect caused her to flinch while she exhaled, and pushed onward. Too stubborn to retreat back into the cool air condition, Racheli pushed into the thinning crowds and blended in. Her path mostly kept her nearest the shade to block out the sun as she shoved her hands into her jeans. Instinctively, her eyes shifted from shady spot to the next before deciding to find somewhere underground.

Nowadays, summertime fell short of the past pleasure it gave her. Her body preferred the cold rather than the heat so any abrupt and notable change in temperature brought anxiety she couldn’t explain.

Another left turn brought Rach into a nearby alleyway where she suddenly stopped. Her head tilted upward and observed the two-story high brick walls, mentally calculating their height. Even she knew how stupid it was to be on the rooftops at this time of day. There would be little shade from the sun overhead unless there were taller buildings around. Shrugging off her brief brilliant idea, Racheli’s eyes turned back to the ground. A slight difference in metal hue caught her attention causing her to close in and crouch down.

A manhole, she realized.

Her fingers touched the bolts only to find them secured in place. She ground her teeth in frustration then twisted one harder. It squeaked in protest before finally loosening under her strength, coming off in her palm and drawing a smirk from her lips. She repeated the step with the other three until all four were removed. Then she threw the lid to the side where it clunked against the wall and dented it.

Not caring about the damage, Rach twisted around and slid down the metal ladder. She bent her knees when she hit the bottom. Her nose scrunched up at the mixture of feces, piss, rot, and stagnant water drifting through the narrow tunnel. It nearly made her vomit as she shut off her smell receptors immediately.

Her mind ironed out the reaction before she drifted into the darkness. The irises gave off an illumination indicating her vision had shifted into night, the surroundings tinted in green and black. Soundlessly she drifted along the concrete walls and floor.

Soundlessly, she drifted down the dark tunnel in search for somewhere peaceful. The chill down here relaxed her since there was no sunlight to warm her, but she disliked the dampness and smell from earlier. Her boots splashed puddles underneath sending the water to scatter.

‘You know, I never expected you would stoop so low as to walk in the filth of a whole city,’ an unwelcome voice whispered in her ear.

Racheli’s head turned to the side but saw nothing. Her lip curled upward, baring a set of teeth and fell back down. She ignored the company that refused to materialize. Gradually a small, square room came into view. From the right was a tunnel streaming forth a waterfall from a pipe into a small pit below. Along the edges were barely enough room to crouch down, let alone walk on. She still managed to find a small corner to fold her jacket and sit, letting her mind reflect on the reasons she felt so much rage.

Minutes passed into an hour before Racheli decided to leave. Her figure pushed up onto her feet as she snatched up her jacket. Abruptly, her skin rose up into goosebumps and her hair at attention. The sensation of being watched washed over her. Cautiously her eyes panned the small room, her vision sought out the source and found nothing. The dull roar of water drowned out any other sounds.

A few seconds passed into moments before she decided she was being paranoid. Racheli wrapped her jacket about her arms and inhaled. She then walked toward the exit.

She nearly made it.

Through the water, a large-scaled and rash-ridden reptile burst through the water’s tunnel. For the most part, it resembled an alligator with a compacted body. Its thick tail propelled it into the small room. The body was about the size of a motorcycle in height with bulky muscles. It had no eyes while its neck appeared to be deformed into jaws from another head. The second head devoured the first, a narrower and more canine-like mouth. It stopped at the skull and neck base.

At catching Rach’s scent, it dragged itself out over the pit. The water streamed down over the underbelly then vanished into the bottomless pit. It wasted no time as it launched itself at Rach’s exposed back.

Her mind ripped into pain when the dagger-like teeth sank into her shoulder.

“FUCK!” Rach screamed out, her voice carried through the suffocating pipelines.

She felt it penetrated through her skin and muscle, crushing the bone underneath in its powerful grip. If she had been able to smell, its breath would remind her of putrid meat and aged water. The weight from the impact tossed her down onto her stomach. Taking full advantage of her downed position, its jaw clamped down tighter. It shifted its muzzle from right to left viciously. Bone continued to crack while it began to loosen from its tendons, the creature intended to rip off a chunk. Her black blood began to eat away at the tissue around the monster’s stained teeth. Smoke started to billow followed by pain causing the creature to drop her, aggressively hissing in frustration.

Racheli smiled as she slowly pulled back upright then bolted for the exit.

Another jab of agony ripped through her ankle, her body tripped forward when one foot fell short. It didn’t move forward. Her head shot over her shoulder to see the monster grip it. A wicked alligator smirk crept across its maw as it jerked its head over its back, bring her with it. Racheli’s body promptly left the floor then sailed into the far wall. She hit hard, her skull made a loud crack.

She hit the ledge before she fell into the wide pit’s gaping mouth and became swallowed by darkness.

The mutant jeered in a victory. A fresh sound of bones cracked and shifted, its understructure quivered beneath the leather hid. Forelegs shortened then the spine straightened upright. The tail disappeared into the shrinking rear, the figure now bipedal. The first head melted back into the first like a lump of candle wax. Gradually it took a human shape while the features sharpened into a feminine shape. In less than an hour, Rach stood where the alligator beast once was.

She casually glanced down the pit’s entrance and waited. Seeing no one crawling back out, she spoke to it.

“I’ll see you later, baby girl.”

With a wicked smirk, ‘Rach’ walked back the way she came.
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