Fallenreaper

[Approved] Dashara Horizon, Unaligned Force User

OoC

How long do you usually write?
I prefer, for single post wise, at least 1-2 paragraph per reply. I give what my partner gives back in quality and expect the same in return. In the longer run, I enjoy long stories with heavy collaboration between the involved parties both OOC and IC wise.

Do you enjoy writing collaborative posts for things like conversations, combat, etc.?
Yes

Is grammar and depth of writing important to you?
Yes, mainly to the point I can read and understand it.

Are there any writing subjects you particularly enjoy exploring?
Character exploration through challenges, experiences, and connections to others causing character development. Shades of grey stories.

Is there anything you really dislike and want to avoid like the plague?
Stories where a fight or conflict is completely one-sided for no reason other than not to look weak. Characters that don’t really develop at all or seem to perfect at all angles.

Is there something you are uncomfortable with happening to your character?
Yes, auto-killing without permission or being auto-brain washed.

Do you have any short-term or long-term goals with this character?
Yes.

Explore the Sith/Jedi teaching for an older force user.
Explore the galaxy from the perspective of a pirate and get into trouble.
Have a bounty hunter track Dash down and attempt to bring her back to the Exchange, then play that arc out while her friends try to save her.

Couriers Holonet Ad

Name: Dashara Horizon
Species: Half Human and Zeltron
Homeworld: born on a ship
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Specialisation: Espionage/People handling and Close Quarter Weapons Combat
Current area of operation: Mid-Rim

Couriers Holonet Metadata Summary

_{Short description of looks & style.}

Dashara is a proud example of her lineage, showing both human and Zeltron traits to their fullest. Her fiery red hair reaches down to about the end of her shoulder blades, parted a little right of the center of her forehead. Each strand drifts in thick waves that add to her confidence and often left free to roam. She stands at about 5'6" with her skin being a mix of lavender and light pink, the later's influence slightly stronger. When she glances your way, her green eyes seem to give off a hint of mischief and flirty energy.

She loves clothes that don't restrict her extreme flexibility and movement. It's a bonus when it shows off her feminine allure too, her mood often factoring in the day's attire. Right now, her favored gear is a simple short tunic and dark pants, the later held up with a silver pyramid designed belt. Her feet are topped off with worn ankle boots. In the toes, metal prevents any unexpected damage and can knock out a few teeth when she gives a sound kick.

_{Simplified report on known skills and estimated levels.}

Dash is an innate force user with a little training thanks to her friend Neith. So far, she has only found the motivation to develop a few force abilities in the recent year. With time or different motivation, she can develop more skills and become stronger.

Force Speed-Dash had learned her fear gives her more speed. Toss in some force ability and she's about twice as fast as she is normally. She tends to reserve this for when things crumble as a way to escape. It's suited for combative situations. [ basic training]

Force Jump-Out of her physical-based abilities, this one is Dash's favorite. It shows in her ability to jump at least two to three times her normal distance. The bad part, her landings can be rather rough when she's in a hurry. [ basic training]

Force Throw- While Neith finds this natural, Dash struggles with it. She can move hand-size objects easily across the floor. She uses this to her advantage whenever she is disarmed or need to keep her enemy's weapon out of their reach. However, trying to pry it from others hands or lifting heavy objects is a challenge. At most, she can lift a single rock of her own weight up by two feet but nothing more. And that is only for a few moments. [novice training]

Empathy- This force sense enhances, rather than replaces, her natural empathy. She can feel others emotions through walls and thick barriers. The max range is half the size of a football field when not keeping it in check. If she allows it to run wild, the area can increase to over twice its range. [intermediate talent]

Precognition - Dash is always aware of her surroundings and ready to react at a moment's notice. At a young age, she was able to use this ability and it only got stronger over time. It was first discovered when she met Neith as a child, the sixth sense finally having a name in her mind. Since then it's become her best tool to survive by. [basic talent]

Non-Force related

Vibro-rapier and Dagger training- Dashara has always held a love and appreciation for the weapon. It's quick style and harsh damage fit her well, matching nearly with her sharp words. While she is a force to be dealt with in close combat, her skill level is not mastered and leaves room to develop. [ intermediate training]

Close-Combat training- Dashara has some decent knowledge and ability to fight without a weapon. She learned the skills to specifically deal with opponents who are stronger then herself. [novice training]

Ship Piloting training- Dashara knows how to fly most ships when she figures out their basic controls. During her time with her crew, she was usually the get away pilot. According to their Captain, she was extremely talented. [intermediate talent]

Parkour- Dash is very lithe and fast, even without her force ability adding to her natural skills. Obstructions don't slow her down in the least when she is navigating around the maze-like cities. Depending on the familiarity over the place, her sense of direction can suffer in the unknown. [intermediate training]

Pick-pocket- From the age of ten, she learned to pick-pocket or starve. Those who aren't careful will need to watch their pockets or caches. They might become empty if she's bored. [intermediate talent]

Slicing- In order to steal credits or information, she had to learn some skills in slicing. She's not an expert, but she's not a slouch or novice about it. It takes her longer than someone that does this for a livelihood. It also increases her chances of getting caught if she's not on her toes. [novice training]

Infiltration/Stealth- One wrong move could easily cost a high price. She knows the value of credits and information. Few criminals took kindly to her pilfering them. This requires her to develop numerous ways to not be obvious. These included diversion tactics and avoiding getting caught at it. There were times it was best to snatch and run too, especially when things fell apart. [expert training]

Empathic reading and manipulation- Being apart of the Zeltron lineage, Dash has a natural gift for sensing and manipulating emotions. This doesn't change the individual's personality but it can cloud their common sense or association with her. This is done with a mix of pheromone sensitivity and force ability. [expert talent]

Silver-tongue- Dashara is very smooth and picky about her words. With a few words, she can easily slip into high society or the back streets of Nar Shaddaa depending on her mission. Most the time it's easy to talk her way out of trouble with a convincing lie and some truth. [intermediate training]

Disguises and Forgeries- Dash has a keen eye for detail. This pays off in the form of various disguises and forging documents, all used by her crew in many of their missions. Only the highly trained eye could ever tell they were fake, and even then there's room for doubt. She does need a realistic copy in order to copy it accurately since she doesn't like guesswork. [basic talent]

Languages fluent in are Huttese, Basic and Durese - Being an Escort and needing to collect information required her to understand more than basic. It made overhearing things, especially when someone believed she didn't have the intelligence, tidbits of conversation easier. [fluent]

Excessive Drinker- Thanks to a second liver and high metabolism, Dashara can drink excessive amounts of alcohol and not feel the side effects. This includes really rich food.

_{Quick report on favored employers, associates, contacts, and rivals.}

• Nimat’ualin - Twi’lek - Captain of the Steel Hearts pirate crew (ally)
• Gene - Human - Second Mate of the Steel Hearts pirate crew (ally)
• Nieth - Sephi- Member of the Steel Hearts pirate crew (ally)
• Ikle Garix- Former employer from the Exchange (enemy)

_{How freely can the courier move in the galaxy? Are there or have there been any outstanding bounties?}

For now, she's been unhindered by the current bounty. That is likely to change the longer she is free. The bounty is posted by Ikle Garix, a member of the Exchange.

_{Psychological evaluation of Courier.}

Having worked in the escort service before, Dash is a highly charismatic character. She knows the value of words and how to wield them properly, usually thinking before she speaks. It helps her looks made her easy on the eyes. Mix that knowledge in with her natural empathy manipulation her race holds and it’s a recipe that will surely alter the atmosphere in her favor.

Dash prefers to avoid physical conflict if she can. Words, while painful, never actually cut into a living body as her weapon could. Since Nima found her in the hotel room as a crying, panic mess, she’s been determined to make something of herself. The Steel Hearts seemed like one path to achieve it.

Most would describe her to be a golden-hearted scoundrel who has her own set of morals. She rarely steals from people who can’t afford to lose it, preferring not to add to the less fortunate suffering. Her loyalty lies with her family, the members of the Steel Heart, above all else.

_{List and description of known and suspected flaws. To be put into a restricted database.}

Her species are known for their bubbly, and positive reputation. This will likely lead to others failing to take her threats or skills seriously. Unless it is in areas of pleasure.

Dash takes pride in her skills she feels superior in. Under criticism she can keep her temper, but it does affect her worth ethic into pushing harder. For those who can catch, it could lead to an advantage.

She can grow attached to those who have shown they are worth it. Under the stress of life or death for these individuals, her common sense becomes cloudy. Another issue is her self preservation tends to fall to the back of her mind. So far, this hasn't caused any issues and only time will tell when it does.

Dashara isn't the strongest individual. She hasn't been able to improve or enhanced that lacking trait. It doesn't mean she can't hold her own in a weapon's fight, but in a contest of pure strength against someone bigger... she is more likely to lose.

Her force is basic at best. With no proper education, any fight against a far more experienced force user is ill advised. She lacks in areas she finds little interest. Without motivation, there's not high hopes she will improve in them.

_{Major achievements and failures on record.}

(Since I haven't checked with her crew, who have seemed to have vanished, it's hard to figure out what to put in this section.)

She is a decently known escort within Nar Shaddaa.

She failed to save her parents.

She failed to retrieve intel for the Exchange over the double spy which resulted in a bounty on her head.

_{Personal biography, as detailed by the subject for future record. Acquired shortly after last achievement of note.}

Ashron Horizon was a well-known smuggler for the Hutt Cartel. After a decent pay off and a near brush with death, the veteran smuggler took some time off on Zeltros. The locals were friendly enough, but his eyes wander on a particular woman. Iella Marx, a full-blooded Zeltron. She was stuck in his head like a bad habit. He found himself unable to leave without her, so he used his silver tongue to convince her to join him.

Few people understood the thoughts that went through Iella's mind when she agreed. Some believed she lost a bet while others felt she had grown bored with her repetitive lifestyle. Only she could reveal the truth, but her lips were often sealed.

During their adventures, their wild spirits tangled nightly. Eventually, it resulted in Iella becoming pregnant. It was an unexpected turn in their lives, but they found themselves richer for it. They named the child Dashara. Of course, Iella insisted their daughter inherited her father's name.

Dashara had both combined positive and negative traits from both her parents. She was a curious youth, but she was heavily independent in nature. This led to serious mischief among the crew and developed mixed opinions about her. To those patient and tolerant of it, she was a harmless prankster learning about her lot in life. The rest felt she was a massive pest who added to their workload.

For most of her life, the ship was her home. Her mother was a daily interaction, but she found herself bonded tighter to her father. It was no surprise to Iella. They shared many qualities from their adventurous desire to their independence. If she didn't know better, she would've thought they cloned their child instead of natural birth.

Ashron wasn't ignorant when it came to teaching his child about the world. While he put it in a better light than most, he still taught her skills to survive. This included introducing her to vibro-rapier when she was seven. Iella frowned, but grudgingly allowed it.

At the age of ten, her father’s history eventually caught with their family. A sour business deal forced them to flee into Nar Shaddaa. While their ship was being repaired, Ashron waited for his contact. He had hoped to smooth things over and resume his work, or at least discover how bad the collateral damage was.

Instead, a bounty hunter managed to sneak into their bedroom and murder them both. Dash couldn't tell if her running was a good or bad thing. At first, she had no idea if the hunter would've killed her too. However, her instinct told her was it best not to wait and see. She darted into the streets of Nar Shadda and right on cue, she felt a blaster nick her shoulder.

After several hours of running, she fainted in a gutter. When she woke up, all Dash wanted was the events of last night to be a nightmare. Hunger gnawed at her causing the child to attempt to steal food from a random seller. He didn't take kindly to that.

She narrowly escaped the punishment when she crossed paths with an older child. Jebiz coaxed her to follow him, promising help and safety. It came at a price: her freedom. Before she knew it, Dash became sucked into a web of petty thieves.

She started off small under a man called Flix. He didn't bother giving the last name and made it clear what happens when you fail. She always made sure to avoid pissing the alien off whenever she could. Though small rumors and bits of information, she learned the head boss man was a human named Ikle Garix. He was connected to unsavory profit ventures from slavery to espionage. All to increase his creditably with a group called the Exchange. That was all she could find out.

For the next six years, Dash learned the ways of the street. She perfected her pickpocketing, stole valuable information, and located targets. Like most of the other children, she could parkour through the city and escape danger.

It was during this time, she met a half-Sephi named Neith. The pair was thick as thieves, their bond tight from mutual respect. Dash learned that Neith was a runaway Jedi padawan. This was how Neith could tell Dash was force sensitive too. Of course, the younger girl didn’t believe it fully and she even discouraged any use. If they were caught, their ‘friends’ wouldn’t hesitate in turning them in for a big reward.

Life took a dark turn when she finally hit puberty. Garix had been nothing but a name until Flix took her to meet him. He informed her that she would be moving up from street nerf to escorting service. Any refusal was ill-advised and the consequences were likely to end her up in slavery. It was enough to keep her in line for the years to come.

She went through a regiment of training that taught her even more skills. Reading, writing, and other higher education became available to her. On occasion, Dash was required to discover information on selective targets. The means justified the results as long as it didn't overrule her value.

It wasn’t a life without some perks. Ikle allowed her to explore and even revisit some old hobbies. On the condition, she didn't attempt to use them to escape.

Getting him to agree with glass art was simple. She logically told him he could sell them off to admirers, allowing her to keep only a few for herself. Her mother had a fondness for the art which brought some comfort in her prison. The second hobby was harder and took more energy to convince him it was a good idea. Virtually no escorts knew any form of defense, even with a vibro-rapier. She felt exhausted when she finally managed to change his mind about it.

Just when she became accustomed to her life, another turn mangled her future. Ikle tasked her with the responsibility to learn about Jenner, a man who worked for the Exchange. However, there was suspicion he had been cutting side deals with the Hutts. Her mission was simple: collect the information and leave without getting caught.

She failed.

When Dash excused herself to use the refresher, she crept back into Jenner’s hotel room. She sliced into his computer where she found the file. While she downloaded it, Jenner had gotten paranoid. He walked in and his expression changed into a furious one. He attacked her. During the struggle, Dash managed to get the advantage and kill him.

Finding no reason not to, she examined the data. Much to her horror, the man was a double agent, but he favored the Exchange over the Hutts. He had gotten close to the current leader and collected information most others couldn’t.

Dread filled her immediately. She had killed an asset who valued higher than herself. She was going to die or worse.

Unsure how to escape her fate, Dashara felt her will crumble. She huddled in the corner and fought back her tears. It was shortly afterward, Nimat’ualin walked in and find her. Empathizing with Dash’s fear, the pirate captain took her on as part of their crew. When they got back to the ship, Dash found her friend Neith had also joined. It gave her hope now that they both escaped their terrible fate.

For a year now, Dashara learned the ropes over what it meant to be a pirate. She continued to improve her vibro-rapier skills and learned hand to hand combat. She finally progressed to piloting the ship. Now she could drive the ship as well or better than the captain when things got hot. Neith began to teach her how to force throw and manage her abilities. Dash hated how there was little time to do some of her favorite things.

They felt like a true family, something she hadn’t had in a long time. Lately, she found herself feeling smothered by the protectiveness of the group. They seemed to think she would break any moment and she loathed it. It was time to prove she didn't need them to be a decent pirate.

Formaroth Part 2: Throne of Lies

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?”

“Yes.”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

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.

Thanks

@nitemare shape

*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.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

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.

“Why?”

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?”

Nothing.

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.’

Formaroth Part 2: Throne of Lies

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.

~Chrono Asylum: Devil's Plague

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.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Going to try to have a post for Benjamin in three days.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Any main player characters in the sewers in Lost Haven, feel free to contact me over a scene and connection with Rach. XD

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

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.

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.

~Chrono Asylum: Devil's Plague

Xx---------------------------xX
Experimental Team
Xx---------------------------xX

Location: In Angel's and Rena's mansion.
Time: Past Noon (because of time zones!)

---

(Before)

It took a moment for Cade to notice Olivia gesture for him. Promptly he moved over to assist with Andrew, his arms pulled Andrew to the nearest wall. He gestured Olivia to get his medical while he pressed his fingers to the patient’s throat, checking the pulse. It was steady. Allowing the given task to distract him, Cade barely caught the question.

It took him a moment before he answered.

“I-I… I’m good. Nothing much to say really.”

Cade attempted to smile, but his heart didn’t show in it. That genuinely failed to shine through as he didn’t continue the small talk. In reality, he didn’t know what to say and he wasn’t going, to be honest. Inside he wasn’t fine at all.

As his hand drew near his sebon, they quivered slightly. Flashes of a maddening grin followed by the flashes of his sebon buried into his body caused Cade to flinch. Samad must’ve seen it too because his head jerked toward him, his cane nearly came free for an attack.

“Sorry Samad,” he stated as his hand lifted in a disarming manner.

He inhaled then shoved past for something to help with Andrew’s vomiting. He popped two pills into his palm and passed them over, followed by a bottle of water.

---

Samad was among the first to edge into the mansion. His eyes darted from side to the other, partly expected something to go sour. He had to agree with Yin. They had gotten in too easily and that usually meant something else was going to drop.

His suspicions were confirmed when they met Rena.

Olivia was the first one that made contact as she smiled at the child, confirming her intentions. He tensed as his hand twitched. However, he didn’t cast any magic. Provoking someone that could easily kill them was ill-advised, but he wasn’t going to be unprepared for the worst case.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one on guard. Alistair’s drive had subtly came to life, but nothing happened yet. At least he was truthful about being ready to protect them.

Cade had begun to attend to Andrew. His hand reached for the smelling salts but he decided to wait until the scene was done. In the meanwhile, he folded a coat underneath the man’s head and monitored his vitals.