Grey

Welcome to Arcadia

'You tried, Morgan. You tried,' Morgan thought frustratedly as she tapped her index finger on the top of the desk. Tap tap tap. She regarded Kayla with a hard stare, trying to discern whether or not it was a lie. In the end, she'd managed to ascertain that it was unlikely she was intentionally obstructing justice. Intentionally being the key word here; she was willing to bet that whoever was causing these disappearances would know how to cover their tracks.

"I see..." Her eyes narrowed at the response to the second question. It was as noncommital as they came, that was for sure. But if that was how it was going to be, so be it. "Ah. My bad. You see, it's a bit of a hobby of mine," she answered, that poker face of 'formal informality' still masking her true self. "Just consider my interest one of... personal curiosity." The desk fan began turning a bit too quickly for a room without open windows. "At any rate, we're not entirely done her yet," Morgan continued. She gathered the files up and organized them before getting up to deposit them in a file folder withdraw from a cabinet behind the desk. Behind her, Kayla was going off about her troubles. "That's probably because you've been gone for, say, 28... maybe 29 days?" Morgan nonchalantly mentioned, letting that sink in as she placed the now-filled file back into the cabinet.

As Morgan returned to her seat, the topic of Kayla's 'whining' had ended up broaching a somewhat uncomfortable subject she'd been meaning to get to slightly later in the discussion. How inconvenient. "Yeah... About that..." Her voice was awkward and strained as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. It was fairly obvious she wasn't making any attempt at hiding her discontent with what she was about to say. For her, this was usually around when these interviews took a more troublesome turn. It made sense; people didn't often enjoy having their activities restricted. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news lass." From across the desk, she nonchalantly pointed at Kayla. "But unfortunately I can't let you do that."

"Consider it something like witness protection," Morgan explained, "We don't know if whoever whisked you away is going to come back, you know? Which means we'll have to keep you here until we get this sorted out. I'd say sorry, but this is really for your own good. Besides, it does solve your little residency problem."

@Arista

Welcome to Arcadia

Greene Detective Agency, Upper Floor - Wednesday March 23, Mid-Afternoon

Morgan stared at the nigh-empty document on her computer screen, listening to the wall clock tick on and on - a constant reminder of the time she was wasting away while sitting at this table. 'Oh the wonders of academics,' she thought blithely, turning her swivel chair back and forth in rhythm with the clock. With the thick blanket draped over her shoulders and her cross-legged sitting position, she looked like a particularly drab blob with a head. She cast an expectant glance down to the outdated Nokia cellphone on her desk, only to be disappointed by the distinct lack of any notifications. Oh how she wished for a distraction right now - not that she needed one or that one would be particularly beneficial to her academic career. After all, this essay was supposed to be due tomorrow morning.

Morgan typed up a paragraph before deleting it. "No, that doesn't sound right..." she mumbled, burying her face in her palms and letting out a long sigh. 'Curse this stupid bullshit homework deadline rule!' she internally groaned. She could do investigating into the dead hours of night, but as soon as her legal guardian knew that she had a deadline coming up the following day, it was all class work the rest of the day. Couldn't he see that there were more important things to do? She pulled up the internet, revealing a page with the March lunar stages. It was a full moon tonight. That meant wolves. Wolves at night, and people vanishing in the evening. What a horrible time to be occupied.

A short while later, her phone vibrated. She glanced at the caller ID, answered the call, and pinned the cell to her shoulder with her cheek. "I'm in the zone, Greenie. This is not a good time to be bothering me," she answered, eyes darting across the screen as her fingers played a symphony on the keyboard.

"How unfortunate for you, then," the familiar voice from the other side of the phone answered. Immediately Morgan knew she probably wasn't going to like the sound of what came next. "Because I'm going to have to call today an exception to-"
"Oh for fu- for Pete sake! Really? This couldn't have happened an hour ago?"
"Of course it couldn't; the girl just reappeared a short while ago."
"...What."
"I suppose that means you're interested. It's at Hyde Street Station."
"Sweet, I'll head over then. Thanks for the head's up."

---

Hyde Street Station - March 23, Evening

Morgan arrived at the subway station with haste. Her brown hair was done up in a messy bun, the best she could do in the short time between receiving the news and getting out of her house ASAP. Though she looked fairly normal in her dark trench coat and slacks, the truth was that she just threw those over her pajamas and called it sufficient. Besides, it's not as if anyone could tell, even if her frame looked slightly more heavyset than usual.

The station itself was in shambles; it was a lot like a more chaotic version of the scene of one of the past disappearances. It was also surprisingly cold for spring, not to mention the fact that the station was supposed to be at least somewhat warmer than the outside. A layer of frost covered much of the surrounding area, which itself looked like a tornado had come through. The lights flickered, but she could tell that nothing would be wrong with the circuitry. After all, if it was anything like the last few times...

"Dunno what you and Howard'll get from her; everything we got didn't make a lick of sense," the policeman explained, sheepishly scratching the back of his head as he led Morgan to the young lady she was looking to speak to, "But anyone can do it, it's you two." He stopped a bit away and gestured towards Kayla. "There you go."

"Thanks officer," Morgan curtly nodded. She slowly walked up to Kayla. "'Scuse me," she greeted with a casual wave to the girl, "You'll have to come with me. Don't worry, you're not in trouble. I'll just have to ask you a few questions in a more..." She glanced around the disheveled area. "... appropriate setting."

---

Greene Detective Agency, Office

"Uh... Sorry the place looks like shi- Isn't very cleaned up," Morgan apologized as she entered the detective's office with a sheaf of papers in hand. She took a seat on the other side of the large wooden desk. There was a slowly turning desk fan in the corner and a bunch of file cabinets behind her; it was all very cliche, which made the dichotomy between the setting and the detective sitting in the desk all the more jarring. A gruff-looking older male with a beige fedora and a distinct accent, Morgan was not. The room didn't even smell like smoke.

"Okay then," the brunette began, looking over the papers in her hand, "Who are you? What do you remember? Do any of these faces look familiar?" She fanned out the papers to reveal that they were missing person's files. Everyone was within 16-21 years of age, had disappeared during a full moon, and didn't live in town. But other than that, there seemed to be nothing connecting the individuals. "...And I know I might sound crazy, but does the word 'magic' mean anything to you?" The rapid-fire questions hardly seemed professional, but somehow that didn't seem surprising.

@Arista

Katekyo Hitman Reborn!: Rekindled Flame

Alright, no problem. Thanks for giving us the heads up.

Hunting the Most Dangerous Game (Private RWBY RP)

Argent was no stranger to vast expanses of the same handful of colors and shapes. After all, even people who'd never experienced seafaring could guess that it wasn't very exciting in terms of scenery you could take a picture of and post on social media to gain meaningless renown and establish your 'aesthetic' or whatever. At any rate, navigating the Emerald Forest wasn't an insurmountable enemy that she could not overcome with her own strength. Sure, she had no fucking idea where the ruins would be, but she could tell if she'd been somewhere before, so at least she had that going for her.

Crushing the verdant underbrush underfoot, Argent continued on her merry way. All this walking and all these trees reminded her of her childhood, which kind of made her slightly saltier than usual. Oh how pathetic she was in hindsight, but it's not as if she could travel to the past and bitch-slap herself. What was she doing again? Oh right, looking for the ruins. If Argent wanted to put ruins somewhere, she would put it in an appropriately cinematic location. They were supposed to have some kind of final stand or some shit there after picking up take out or groceries or something for the Ozdude, right?

Speaking of, why hadn't she beat the shit out of anything yet? There were supposed to be Grimm running around like dumbasses! She unsheathed her weapon and tossed it around in her hands idly. Man, this was annoying. On the edge of her hearing, she heard some idiot scream out "The calzone has arrived!" or something like that. Man, what a missed opportunity. She should've walked in that direction if she wanted to have any fun.

Alas, Argent kept on keeping on her merry way.

Welcome to Arcadia

Morgan Anne Branwen

Nickname: Morrigan

Birth date and age: May/29, 20 years old

Sexuality: Demisexual

Race: Mage
Power: Wind
Familiar:
In Depth Appearance:
Morgan is an oft conservatively dressed young lady who stands at the below-average height of 155cm(5'2"). Along with her pale complexion, she has a squarer figure and her breasts are of modest size in comparison with other women. That's not something she really cares about, though. She's most often seen with a very tired look in her green eyes, and occasionally wears a set of eyeglasses for reading. Her light brown hair is cut into a short bob, which is either kempt or unkempt depending on her mood or the occasion.

Personality:

• Brusque • Reliable • Wary •

Distant and guarded, life hasn't been very kind to Morgan, even after it started throwing her a bone. When combined with almost chronic sleep deprivation, life has made her in a rather jaded young lady, prone to deriding and giving the cold-shoulder to people who've gained her ire. She has a very 'us vs the world' mentality, with the 'us' being her small circle of allies, and is often immediately suspicious. Even if she doesn't believe in the best in people, she's still an understanding person and has the ability to become more mild in manner should the situation need it. She makes a point of always honoring contracts she signs and promises she makes, if only to the letter, and has built a reputation as a dependable person as a result. Though she doesn't make it obvious, she has a bit of a temper. One that she's good at keeping under wraps. She also has a very foul mouth in general for someone who doesn't talk too much, but is working on it and often cuts herself off mid-sentence.

Likes:

• Children
• Floriography
• Napping
• Quiet places
• Watching old movies

Dislikes:

• Apples and apple-based foods
• Debts unpaid on either end
• Getting grinded to dust by the gears of bureaucracy
• Making promises
• Mystery novels

Fears:

• Becoming her grandmother
• Deep water
• Losing control

Biography:
Morgan is an orphan born to two loving parents. When she turned three, her father died of illness and her mother, griefstricken, decided to move away from the small coastal town that Morgan had been born. Her mother never remarried and they never met with any of their extended family, so it really was just the two of them. Even when asked by her lonely daugher, her mother would refuse to contact their relatives "because it would be too troublesome". They also never truly settled down in one place and drifted from state to state, which did very little to help Morgan's academic and social performance. She managed to be an average student though, even if it wasn't easy. But even despite all that trouble, they were still happy.

And then when she was eight, her mother got sick. Struck ill by the same thing that killed her father, and left to live in a hospital bed for the rest of her days. She tried to put on a strong face for her daughter, but her condition was growing grimmer and grimmer every day. Then her mother died, and Morgan was told by the proper authorities to contact her nearest relatives. With nobody available that she knew, Morgan began looking through her mother's things. Her search was rewarded by a set of old letters that her mother had kept. Each one was signed with a simple "Your Mother" and addressed from an address up north. While she didn't like how naggy this grandmother of hers sounded in the letters, she was her only living relative; so that's where Morgan went.

Morgan's grandmother lived just outside of Arcadia, Maine in a fairly-sized cottage in the middle of the woods. According to her grandmother, Morgan's mom decided against continuing to practice magic like the rest of the family, and instead chose to "run off with some foolish city boy". When she learned Morgan had no idea what she was talking about, she decided to become her mentor in magic. But in exchange, Morgan was only allowed to leave the cottage grounds to get groceries and attend school. It was lonely without many friends her age, but she enjoyed learning magic nonetheless. It also helped that her grandmother was a master of creating apple dishes.

When she lost her grandmother, she was taken into the church-run orphanage in Arcadia and raised as your stereotypical good Christian girl... despite her heretical status as a user of the arcane arts. She also acquired a new magic teacher, as well as future employer and adoptive father, in the form of the priest's friend, one Mr. Howard Greene. Life settled into something more normal after that. She currently attends university by day, and by night, she works as the only agent for Greene's Detective Agency.

Welcome to Arcadia

Dramatis Personae

Player Characters
Kayla Etna
Morgan Branwen

Non-Player Characters

Welcome to Arcadia

@Arista

I'll probably spruce this post up later with a guidebook/information dump/compendium thingy, and I'll add further information on an 'as they are encountered' basis. Same for the NPC list but that'll go in the Character Tab. But for now, I'll just put up the thread so we've a place to put our sheets and stuff before we start.

Anyway, the gist of the premise just in case anyone forgets is as follows:

Arcadia, Maine is not your average city. Apart from being one of the earlier European settlements in North America, Arcadia plays host to all sorts of supernatural beings and humans, and not all of them are benevolent. It's a powder-keg waiting to blow, but explosions can be directed.

Enter the Greene Detective Agency, situated in the alleyway next to the Curiosity Shop on Main. With it's grand total of, count 'em, two whole employees - including the owner! - they've taken on the duty of solving crimes and keeping peace.

And they're always hiring.

Hunting the Most Dangerous Game (Private RWBY RP)

There was an old guy talking. Or at least he looked old; he might just have white hair. The dude - Oswald or something - was explaining stuff. It was probably important, and Argent knew that she should listen. She tried that, though, but this guy used too many words. Motherfucker should've just gave the quick version, like he did at the end, first. 'Get thing, protect thing, move thing' - was that so hard? She boredly ran her tongue along her upper teeth. She had a sub before they took off; it tasted good. She wasn't much of a fan of the onions though. Thinking about it, this really was her first time flying. It was actually kind of like a bitch-version of sailing; so she settled in pretty easily.

"Oh, he's done," Argent remarked to herself as a mechanical sliding noise sounded and the air-pressure dropped. While Argent had little problems with flying, her only real qualm lay in the change of pressure. It made her nose feel weird and her ears dull and it was just not a good time for someone like her who relied on their senses and instinct and subliminimal massaging or whatever they called it. She turned around to see a missing panel in the floor behind her. Was that their exit? Argent took a step forward as the section of floor beneath her retracted, sending her falling horizontally into the sea of green below rather than vertically as she had expected. There was some music playing elsewhere. Words on the edge of her mind that she could only barely hear as the wind rushed through her ears, drowning out all the panicked screams of others and the accompaniment of bowel ejection. Falling was kind of like swimming, now that she thought about it. You're sinking, suspended in non-solid substance, and resistance was a factor one should take into account.

"..."

It occurred to her that she was facing face towards the ground, and that landing this way may hurt significantly. It didn't help that she had no fancy-schmancy acrobatic bullshit or 'relatively low terminal velocity' ('What the fuck is a terminal velocity anyway?') to help her out what with the fucking anchor strapped to her back. Anchors were, after all, meant to keep things from moving with their weight. She raised her arms slightly, using the air resistance to shift herself into a vertical position. She brought her knees to her chest and tucked her head in, waiting for the impact like a not-so-metaphorical cannonball.

CRASH!

Argent tore through the treeline like a rock through paper. No, that was wrong - paper beats rock. It was more like a punch snapping a bone in twain, or her harpoon penetrating the flesh of an unfortunate foe. With a final THUNK! she hit the ground proper, leaving a nice dent in the earth. That's right. Fuck you earth, and your lack of fall-cushioning. At least water had the goddamn courtesy to cushion falls under a specific speed, and air wasn't even there, like a spooky ghost.

Argent stretched her limbs outwards and yawned. There was a POP!, and now she could hear things better... and her nose felt weird. Fuck. She leapt to her feet, rubbing her nose through the dark veil on her lower-face.

"...Uhh..." Argent sounded, looking all around here. Where was she to go now? Where the fuck were these ruins? "...Okay..." she droned, resigned to follow after the ship since she didn't see any ruins when she looked out the window.

Hunting the Most Dangerous Game (Private RWBY RP)

"See you later, alligator."

Name: Argent Miskaton
Age: 17
Color: Silver
Race: Faunus
Weapon

Still Waters
Weapon Derivation: Anchor, Harpoon Gun, Spear
A large, heavy-looking weapon about the size of Argent herself, colored with the same grays as her clothing ensemble. It's primary form is that of a stockless anchor. As opposed to standard seafaring implement, the outer edges of the anchor's arms are bladed, and the flukes of the anchor are bladed, bilateralled barbed, and oriented parallel to the arms like arrows rather than perpendicular like spades. These features allow it to serve as a weapon similar to a battleaxe and horseman's pick, respectively. When it changes form into a spear, the arms fold into the anchor and the shank telescopically extends. While the bladed outer edges are still available, allowing for swinging attacks, the key feature of this form is the crown that tapers into an arrow-like point. Its third and final form is a harpoon gun. Transformation into this form is similar to the spear transition, except without the extended shank. The trigger to the gun is located in the head of the anchor, and the balancing band acts as its barrel. When fired, the harpoon is followed by a metal wire rather than a chain. After hitting and penetrating a target, the anchor arms can open and close, and the wire can be retracted at will. When not in use, it telescopes into a slightly smaller version of itself that is carried on Argent's back.

Semblance

Equalize
A passive semblance that grants increasing quality and quantity of aura based on the amount of danger the user is in. In other words: the more enemies Argent is fighting and the more powerful they are, the harder she fights and the tougher she gets. Comparatively speaking, if aura was quantifiable, Argent would always have enough to carry on a fight. As a result of this semblance and her own mongrel fighting style, this makes her a rather strange case of an anti-army individual.

Personality: Argent is essentially what most humans of Remnant believe the stereotypical faunus to be. In other words, an uncultured savage. She possesses little in the way of tact or formal ettiquette and often just says whatever she wants, whenever she wants. When combined with that foul sailor mouth of hers and her distinct lack of book smarts, simply listening to her speak for an extended period of time can cause pause in even the least racist of people. Further reinforcing her uncivilized image, she greatly enjoys the thrill of battle, and finds most of her satisfaction from conquering foes. She also enjoys puns and other sorts of wordplay that would make most people want to claw their ears out despite being largely unable to spell all but the simplest of words and possessing the reading comprehension on par with a particularly dumb middle schooler. Argent's also a bit of a movie buff, so in that respect she should really be considered more of a surprisingly cultured savage.

...Still a fucking savage though.

As unrefined as she is, it seems fitting that she carries a 'survival of the fittest' mentality (which ironically was taught to her by a human): the world doesn't care who you are, and if you're capable of reaching happiness on your own merits, good on you; if you're not, quit bitching and make yourself able to. Hence why she doesn't see the White Fang as being a cause worthy of taking seriously, or faunus racism that much of a social issue. That said, she doesn't dislike or subjugate the weak because wasting energy on hatred and management would be too much effort to be worth it and, despite what her Darwinian mindset and blood knight tendencies may suggest, Argent actually maintains a constant deadpan expression - or at least it's probably deadpan; you can never tell with that veil of hers.

At any rate, Argent is actually very cool-headed in spite of what her warmonger behavior might lead one to believe about her personality. In fact, brute force is rarely her default reaction; she'd much prefer a nice talk to settle things. It's just that her eloquence isn't often sufficient to get people to stop fronting with her, which means she has to break their legs. She's mostly content to ignore things she believes not to be worth her time or effort and doesn't really care much for actively getting along - or not getting along - with others, though. A very live-and-let-live kind of person no doubt. No, that's wrong; it's more accurate to say that's she's apathetic. She's not even entirely there when it comes to actively working as a team, but she's good at listening and willing to follow directions as long as they're simple and audacious enough. It wouldn't be wrong to liken her to an attack dog that kills whatever you point at.
Backstory: Argent is a native of Mistral. She was born during the summer, in a small, primarily human village in the western swamps of the kingdom. Though Mistral's villages maintain a much-deserved reputation as hives of scum and villainy, the time Argent spent there was fairly benign. Granted, her time spent there was very brief; she only lived there during her infancy. Her relationship with her birth parents is non-existent. She doesn't know who they are or recall what kind of people they were, but she assumes they're the shitty kind that isn't worth her time to track down. After all, no decent human faunus beings sell their child off to some hoity-toity rich-tits off in inland Mistral as an indentured servant in all but name.

Living under the boot of humanity was undoubtedly a terrible life experience for a child. Both inside and outside her workplace - because she will never consider that place a home - she was discriminated against by the largely human population of the town. Perhaps in the past, she might have joined the White Fang to fight for faunus rights had she had the opportunity, but now she no longer bears ill-will about her treatment, seeing it only as "the natural thing to do". Nevertheless, in her youthful naivete, she ran away from the town in hopes of finding a different, better life elsewhere. After drifting from town to town, learning the harsh reality of the world, she found herself at the end of the line: a village on the southernmost end of the Mistral mainland.

Argent's life turned around when she was found by a human lady who advised her that laying down in the street was not a good thing to do, and decided to treat her to a free meal. During the discussion about their lifestyle choices, the woman explained was captain of a fishing vessel and was looking for new blood to replace members of her crew. With nothing left available for her, Argent joined up and took to the high seas rather than attend school. While she never attended formal combat school, she gained experience fighting aquatic Grimm and brawling with people who wanted to front with her. Eventually the captain and crew realized she ought to learn how to function in normal society and widen her horizons, so they told her to stay on land for a while and find her own path.

After hearing the word 'hunter' and coming to all the right conclusions, Argent applied to Beacon.
Other:

• A crocodile faunus with heritage evidenced by a row of very sharp teeth.
• Wears the veil to avoid unsettling people.
• Hates pirate movies.
• Officially the shortest member of Team CAKE.
• Also the poorest member.

Hunting the Most Dangerous Game (Private RWBY RP)

smol sailor

"See you later, alligator."

Name: Argent
Age: 17
Color: Silver
Race: Faunus
Weapon

Still Waters
Weapon Derivation: Anchor, Harpoon Gun, Spear
A large, heavy-looking weapon about the size of Argent herself, colored with the same grays as her clothing ensemble. It's primary form is that of a stockless anchor. As opposed to standard seafaring implement, the outer edges of the anchor's arms are bladed, and the flukes of the anchor are bladed, bilateralled barbed, and oriented parallel to the arms like arrows rather than perpendicular like spades. These features allow it to serve as a weapon similar to a battleaxe and horseman's pick, respectively. When it changes form into a spear, the arms fold into the anchor and the shank telescopically extends. While the bladed outer edges are still available, allowing for swinging attacks, the key feature of this form is the crown that tapers into an arrow-like point. Its third and final form is a harpoon gun. Transformation into this form is similar to the spear transition, except without the extended shank. The trigger to the gun is located in the head of the anchor, and the balancing band acts as its barrel. When fired, the harpoon is followed by a metal wire rather than a chain. After hitting and penetrating a target, the anchor arms can open and close, and the wire can be retracted at will. When not in use, it telescopes into a slightly smaller version of itself that is carried on Argent's back.

Semblance

Equalize
A passive semblance that grants increasing quality and quantity of aura based on the amount of danger the user is in. In other words: the more enemies Argent is fighting and the more powerful they are, the harder she fights and the tougher she gets. Comparatively speaking, if aura was quantifiable, Argent would always have enough to carry on a fight. As a result of this semblance and her own mongrel fighting style, this makes her a rather strange case of an anti-army individual.

Personality: Argent is essentially what most humans of Remnant believe the stereotypical faunus to be. In other words, an uncultured savage. She possesses little in the way of tact or formal ettiquette and often just says whatever she wants, whenever she wants. When combined with that foul sailor mouth of hers and her distinct lack of book smarts, simply listening to her speak for an extended period of time can cause pause in even the least racist of people. Further reinforcing her uncivilized image, she greatly enjoys the thrill of battle, and finds most of her satisfaction from conquering foes. She also enjoys puns and other sorts of wordplay that would make most people want to claw their ears out despite being largely unable to spell all but the simplest of words and possessing the reading comprehension on par with a particularly dumb middle schooler. Argent's also a bit of a movie buff, so in that respect she should really be considered more of a surprisingly cultured savage.

...Still a fucking savage though.

As unrefined as she is, it seems fitting that she carries a 'survival of the fittest' mentality (which ironically was taught to her by a human): the world doesn't care who you are, and if you're capable of reaching happiness on your own merits, good on you; if you're not, quit bitching and make yourself able to. Hence why she doesn't see the White Fang as being a cause worthy of taking seriously, or faunus racism that much of a social issue. That said, she doesn't dislike or subjugate the weak because wasting energy on hatred and management would be too much effort to be worth it and, despite what her Darwinian mindset and blood knight tendencies may suggest, Argent actually maintains a constant deadpan expression - or at least it's probably deadpan; you can never tell with that veil of hers.

At any rate, Argent is actually very cool-headed in spite of what her warmonger behavior might lead one to believe about her personality. In fact, brute force is rarely her default reaction; she'd much prefer a nice talk to settle things. It's just that her eloquence isn't often sufficient to get people to stop fronting with her, which means she has to break their legs. She's mostly content to ignore things she believes not to be worth her time or effort and doesn't really care much for actively getting along - or not getting along - with others, though. A very live-and-let-live kind of person no doubt. No, that's wrong; it's more accurate to say that's she's apathetic. She's not even entirely there when it comes to actively working as a team, but she's good at listening and willing to follow directions as long as they're simple and audacious enough. It wouldn't be wrong to liken her to an attack dog that kills whatever you point at.
Backstory: Argent is a native of Mistral. She was born during the summer, in a small, primarily human village in the western swamps of the kingdom. Though Mistral's villages maintain a much-deserved reputation as hives of scum and villainy, the time Argent spent there was fairly benign. Granted, her time spent there was very brief; she only lived there during her infancy. Her relationship with her birth parents is non-existent. She doesn't know who they are or recall what kind of people they were, but she assumes they're the shitty kind that isn't worth her time to track down. After all, no decent human faunus beings sell their child off to some hoity-toity rich-tits off in inland Mistral as an indentured servant in all but name.

Living under the boot of humanity was undoubtedly a terrible life experience for a child. Both inside and outside her workplace - because she will never consider that place a home - she was discriminated against by the largely human population of the town. Perhaps in the past, she might have joined the White Fang to fight for faunus rights had she had the opportunity, but now she no longer bears ill-will about her treatment, seeing it only as "the natural thing to do". Nevertheless, in her youthful naivete, she ran away from the town in hopes of finding a different, better life elsewhere. After drifting from town to town, learning the harsh reality of the world, she found herself at the end of the line: a village on the southernmost end of the Mistral mainland.

Argent's life turned around when she was found by a human lady who advised her that laying down in the street was not a good thing to do, and decided to treat her to a free meal. During the discussion about their lifestyle choices, the woman explained was captain of a fishing vessel and was looking for new blood to replace members of her crew. With nothing left available for her, Argent joined up and took to the high seas rather than attend school. While she never attended formal combat school, she gained experience fighting aquatic Grimm and brawling with people who wanted to front with her. Eventually the captain and crew realized she ought to learn how to function in normal society and widen her horizons, so they told her to stay on land for a while and find her own path.

After hearing the word 'hunter' and coming to all the right conclusions, Argent applied to Beacon.
Other:

• A crocodile faunus with heritage evidenced by a row of very sharp teeth.
• Wears the veil to avoid unsettling people.
• Hates pirate movies.
• Officially the shortest member of Team CAKE.
• Also the poorest member.