Little Bill

Fatal Souls

@Gowi Quick question: what is the name of the eastern continent?

@babbysama

Atularis.

Fatal Souls

House Cragmore

House Cragmore

Sigil


House Words
We Will Withstand

House Specialty
House Cragmore gained their wealth, which in turn gained them their rule of Erayis, by breeding goats. The Black Herd is a specialized cavalry of House Cragmore’s infamous Diregoats -- Although not as swift or agile as horses, the Diregoats bred by House Cragmore are capable of ramming through shield walls and barricades, as well as traversing hills and mountains without breaking much stride. The Black Herd is also used as a tool of psychological warfare, as historically, the infamous Dread Horns are sounded shortly before the cavalry’s deployment.

Ancestral Weapon
House Cragmore does not pass down a sword, but a shield known as Tempest. The ancestral shield of the Cragmores is small enough to wield with a sword or axe rather than a pike, and large enough to cover most of a man's torso. A circular shield, Tempest is made of mythrite, with gilded diregoat bones framing the edges. It was used in The Rebellion of Gullytown, wielded by Percival Cargmore, where he used it to infamously bludgeon Prince Kenten Gahnt to death.

Important Members

Igor

Simply put, King Igor is the reason most put "The Once-Great" as a prefix to House Cragmore. Born the bastard son of King Fenric Cragmore and a barmaid 52 years ago, King Igor began life as "Igor Black", being sired at Stormhall with the rest of the Cragmore family. He grew up mean-spirited, unruly, and jealous of the family he never truly belonged to. This, along with his propensity for violence and large frame, made him an obvious suspect in the death of his half-brother Conrad, heir to the throne, who was found dead. Winning his trial by combat by naming himself as his champion, his aging father Fenric had no choice but to legitimize him, now too old to sire more children. Since then, Igor is famous for his wanton cruelty, with taxes highest in Erayis's history, entire generations being born and dying in the salt mines, and peasant revolts becoming more and more frequent.

Traits: Torturer, Ruthless, Lustful, Legitimized Bastard, Cruel, and Strong.
Flaws: Drunkard, Clubfooted, Slow, Slothful

Duncan Cragmore

Duncan, a man of 25 and heir to the throne, has little worries in life. He is as well liked as he can be, being the son of The Bastard-King, for his skill in tourneys. Finding his ancestral diregoats to be too finicky and hard to train, he is known for his immense skill on the direram, which is seen in Erayis as "The Common Man's Steed", as diregoats are only bred by the Cragmores. He is a jouster who has only been bested twice, inheriting his large size and strength from his father. Although he has great martial skill, he has little interest in ruling Erayis, anticipating he will likely put all responsibilities on his small council.

Traits: Strong, Drunkard, Hedonist, Skilled Direram Jouster
Flaws: Slow, Trusting, Slothful

Benjamin Cragmore

If Benjamin has learned anything from his father, it is only their house words, "We Will Withstand". Although he would be slow to admit it, he shares some traits with his father, as he has little problem bending rules, is utterly stubborn, and has great pride for his house. However, unlike his father, he is quick-witted, personable, and able to hide his anger. At a young man of 23 is somewhat skilled with combat, although not nearly as good as his sister Reliwen, and is the only Cragmore to form a bond with a diregoat. He shares an unusual bond with his brother Henry, which most assume is from pity on Benjamin's part. He is fairly popular and well-liked by his subjects, but he is not without flaw -- When he was a boy, he slew his bastard half-brother Maddock "Mad Dog" Black in self-defence. Although justified, some believe Maddock was killed as he was a candidate for legitimization, and thus a possible heir.

Traits: Skilled Diregoat Rider, Fighter, Charismatic
Flaws: Deceitful, Proud, Kinslayer

Reliwen Cragmore

Often called the "Second Cragmore Prince" in whispered japes, Reliwen has spent the 22 years of her life honing her martial ability. She knows she is not especially good-looking, nor is she especially clever, but she is definitely skilled. Reliwen's inherited strength makes her better-suited at using a two handed sword than most her age, let alone most girls her age. Forsaking the normal life of a princess, she has refused to learn to knit, sing, or even read, devoting her life to swordplay instead. She anticipates she will one day serve as sentinel for her older brother Duncan, which she has no qualms with -- She abhors the idea of marriage.

Traits: Skilled Swordsman, Just, Strong, Truthful
Flaws: Ugly, Illiterate, Cynical

Henry

Henry is 17, but has been seen as a child for most of his life. Believed to be stricken dumb and lame after being thrown from his horse at thirteen, beliefs of his injuries were only half correct -- Henry's left leg was badly damaged, requiring him to use a cane, but his mind remained unscathed. Instead, he has spent the last four years feigning stupidity, believing it will save him from any ill fate should his house ever be attacked, which he believes is extremely likely with his father's reputation. The only person to know of his secret is Benjamin, who he helps gather secrets for.

Traits: Lame, Smart, Schemer, Feigned Stupidity
Flaws: Dishonest, Paranoid

Sofia Cragmore

Sofia Cragmore is the youngest of Igor's children, at 16 years of age. While not especially beautiful, and not especially clever, she expects that her singing voice is what will grant her a good husband, and rarely raises her voice because of it. Second to her singing is her skill as a harpist, which she is equally proud of. She is closest to her brother Duncan, seeing Reliwen as too manly and unpleasant, and Benjamin as too serious and prideful of their meager ancestry -- She dislikes her family history as a whole, feeling that an ancestry centered around goats is unladylike and that her father has ruined what remained of the Cragmore name. She hopes to get married soon, if only to distance herself from her house.

Skills: Singer, Harpist, Honest
Flaws: Naive, Proud

Courtiers & Retainers

Chancellor George Kentham
High Priest Toki
Marshal Cedric Saltpier
Sage Ramsay Goldmane
Sentinel Solomon "The Orphaner" Black
Spymaster Theodore Morcant
Steward Thomas Stontan

Vassals

House Kentham
_{House Kentham supplies House Cragmore with the majority of their shepherds, servants, cooks, and guards. They are the only house but Cragmore to have access to diregoats, and many are their breeders and keepers. Their sigil is a brown lamb on a white field, and their words are "Dutiful and True".}

House Blackburn
_{House Blackburn, formerly known for their skill in stonesmithing and architecture, has been in charge of King Igor's salt mines for two decades for their proximity to the mountains. Although one of the oldest and richest houses, they have very little respect for their king as their duties have been shifted from building and mining, to acting as glorified wardens. Their words are "Above All, Create" and their sigil is a black hammer on a yellow field.}

House Graves
_{Aptly named, House Graves has supplied soldiers to Erayis for generations. While not necessarily more skilled than other soldiers, they are known for their unwavering loyalty to their ruling house, and their bravery. Although somewhat poor, they are the largest house in Erayis, with 46 members, All children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren of Ferris "The Fruitful" Graves. Their words are "Let Them Come", and their sigil is a red falcon on a dark blue field.}

House Espen
_{House Espen is known for their naval skills, being situated in Erayis's largest port, and within close proximity to the Stormbroken. They supply Erayis with the majority of the country's seafood, as well as seasalt and croaker meat. They are by no means a house of naval warriors or raiders, but generations of sailing have made them some exceptionally swift. In the rare skirmishes they do have, they are known for their hit-and-run tactics, spearing their enemies hulls and making quick escapes. Their words are "Brine And Blood", and their sigil is a golden fish on a dark blue field.}

House Miller
_{A simple farming house, House Miller is known for little but their bread and humility. They supply a great deal of grain to their country, and are fairly wealthy as a result. Although a small and unassuming house, it is a well-guarded secret that their lord, Daniel Miller II, is only seen with his wife for coronations and appearances, and with Ser Omar Artejo, his bodyguard, all other times.}

House Powell

_{House Powell has an unexceptional history, but noteworthy members. Leroy Powell is their lord, who stands a head higher than most men and wields a heavy staff made of steel. He has taken to the Kaardic faith, and has made it his duty to preach and spread temples in his own land. He does not prosthelytize outside of his own lands on the orders of King Igor, but is eager to convert as many in his own duchy as he can. As a show of faith, he has given his three sons traditional northern names – Ulfrik, Uri, and Utir. Their sigil is a purple sun on a red field, and their words are “None So Mighty”.}

House Webb

_{House Webb is, unsurprisingly, synonymous with spiders. They keep the largest nest of spiders in the world, an immense subterranean labyrinth larger than their own keep, housing millions of spiders of varying breeds and sizes. They are notoriously strange, quiet, and all-around unsettling. They are a very rich house, continuing to make large profits selling spider silk, venom, and spider eggs, which are used in potions. Their sigil is a white web on a grey field, and their words are “Spinning Always”.}

House Abner

_{By every definition of the word, House Abner is a simple house. They are shepherds and farmers, “, with a small keep and few riches. If anything, they are known by their subjects for being charitable and just. It is rumored that their crippled lord, Gregory Abner, uses his bastard sons as spies. Their words are “All Is Right” and their sigil a brown ram on a grey-green field.}

House Croft

_{House Croft the smallest duchy, but one of the grandest castles. Known for their hospitality to guests, their castle, Croftkeep, has been the site of many weddings, as well as hosting Erayis’s army when they are passing through Croft’s land. Their sigil is a grey tower on a green field, and their words are “Ale, Fire, Feast”.}

House Southton

_{House Southton is the house of traders. Although founded by a smuggler, they are in charge of the shipment and oversight of nearly all trade in Erayis, known for their skillful business practice. When sheep are in abundance they sell wool, and when crops are failing, they sell seeds. Their words are “His Breath, His Word” in reference to their loyalty to their king. Their sigil is a blue bird on a yellow field.}

House Warwick

_{“All Things Burn” are the words of House Warwick. Their sigil is a black hand, reaching from flames, on a black field. One of the more grim houses alongside Blackburn, Webb, and Graves, House Warwick is known only for their skill at waging war. In The Great Rebellion, it was Derric Warwick who led the siege on House Gahnt’s ancestral castle, and Derric Warwick who stomped their infants to death. They are trained to be immoral and vicious from a young age, which is reflected in a strange family tradition of giving their eldest son grim second names. Their current lord is Angus Ripred Warwick.}

Realm
Kingdom of Erayis, The Highlands of Orlandis

Primary Holding



Stormhall is the ancient seat of House Cragmore. Atop Mount Stonereach, Stormhall boasts a near impenetrable design. On the clearest days it is said one can see from Stormhall to the edge of Erayis, and on the cloudiest days, one can see the trees nearest to them. Aside from being at the peak of a mountain, it is also protected by Erayis's natural stormy weather, and the craggy terrain -- Horses have great difficulty climbing Stonereach, aptly named for its steep, narrow path. Diregoats, however, can quickly climb the mountain with no difficulty. This leaves those who wish to lay siege to Stormhall with little options other than travelling up the mountain on foot, which is a daunting task in its own right. Below Stormhall and Mount Stonereach is the capitol city of Erayis -- Fairfield. Although a large city, it resembles an oversized village, more than anything. A city of thatched roofs and cobblestone roads, Fairfield is comprised mostly of merchants, the miners they sell to, and the farmers they are fed by. They are a quiet people, although it is uncertain whether it is out of contentment in their prosperous town, or fear of their Bastard-King, who watches with his city patrol from his mountain abode.

Vassal Holdings

Influence & Relations
A summarized list of relations/influence with neighbors or vassals.

Exports & Imports
A summarized list of product yield that are traded in or out.

Recent History
Text

Other Information
Theme Songs, Notes, and so forth.

Voldoa: City of Monsters (A meeting among Tarblatt, certain Engineers, and the Hands will be conducted soon.)

Marcel

---

November 18, 8:55 PM
West Commons, The Pale Horse

Marcel sat at his table, feeling rather content. He had finished off the last few sips of his ale and his egg sandwich, and was now simply enjoying the ambiance. He closed his eyes, bruxing loudly. The fire was warm, his belly was full, and the air was full of laughter and music. Marcel paused for a moment, twitching his nose. It also smelled of man. He opened his beady eyes, turning to his side. Sure enough, an engineer sat, checking a timepiece. He was surely an engineer. He had to be. There wasn't a single man in Voldoa who wasn't. Marcel clenched his eyes for a second, forcing a bit of anxiety out of his head. Marcel knew this man had to be an engineer, but it didn't stop him from worrying. Fortunately for him, something occurred to him -- If this man was an engineer, that meant he would've had to have gone underground.

Marcel stood, brushing the crumbs off of his overalls. "Bonsoir, monsieur." He said, taking the seat in front of the engineer, who was a bit startled by his intrusion. Before the man could say anything, Marcel turned and tapped the shoulder of a server who had been passing by. "Un café, s'il vous plaît." He turned back to the engineer, bruxing with delight. "You are engineer, oui? I 'ave always want to know, how you say," He paused for a moment, snapping his fingers as he struggled to find the right words. "What is it like down there?" He stared at the engineer with unblinking eyes and baited breath -- Marcel was legally not allowed to dig more than three feet, which tormented him immensely. If he couldn't go underground, he could at least listen to the stories of someone who could.

Voldoa: City of Monsters (A meeting among Tarblatt, certain Engineers, and the Hands will be conducted soon.)

Marcel

---

November 18, 5:45 PM
Arboretum, Galloway Gardens

The sun shined brightly, even as it began to set, radiating a pleasant warmth over all of Voldoa. There was a light breeze, and scent of grass in the air. The few fluffy clouds in the sky lazily drifted over the orange horizon as children could be heard running and laughing. It was an excellent evening to be in the park, and so, it was an excellent day to be Marcel.

Marcel wiped some of the sweat from his forehead with his fleshy hand. His nails dangled awkwardly over his eyes as he did so. They were longer than his fingers, and when pressed together, had the same shape and length as a pair of trowels. He stood in the Galloway Gardens Park, where he made his living. Marcel was a gardener by trade, and by instinct -- To him, gardening was mostly just an advanced form of digging, and to dig was to live.

He plopped onto the ground, letting his overalls cushion his landing onto the soft green grass. His overalls were all he wore, along with his workboots. It made working in the sun much easier, at the cost of exposing his bare chest. Marcel didn't mind in the least. After all, there were all sorts of strange things in Voldoa, and most were much stranger than the six nipples of shirtless molepeople. He observed his day's work, bruxing in relaxation as he did so. There were long rows of freshly turned soil, where he was planting flowerbeds. He had dug six semicircles, three on either side of a large fountain. In a month or so, the wildflowers, daffodils, and daisies he had planted would appear. After his moment of relaxation, he stood up with a grunt, and turned around, making his way to one of the park's openings. He had no tools to collect. Other than the seeds he had planted, all he had ever used were his nails.

Marcel walked down the cobblestone road, brushing the dirt from his hands onto his overalls. Today was the first day of his workweek, and so, he still had nearly all of last week's payment. He turned a corner, walking through a crowd of small children -- some had fur, some had fangs, but all were happy to see him.

"Bonjour, little ones. No flowers today, désolé, désolé." He patted a few of them on the hair, but did not stop. He didn't mind the children, but he had been working for hours, and worked up a thirst. He turned once more, but this time, into a tavern. The Pale Horse. He entered the tavern, blinking for a moment to adjust to the slightly dimmer, warmer lights than the outside world. He stood by a barstool, reaching into the small bag of coins he kept in the pocket of his overalls.

"One Augustiner, please." He slid a few coins across the bar, before procuring a few more. "And two eggs with bread. Merci." He nodded to the barkeep, who would soon bring his order to the cook. He turned and looked around for a moment, trying to find a table with one chair. It was a bit crowded for this time of day, leaving only one table with two chairs. He shrugged, and sat down.

Voldoa: City of Monsters (A meeting among Tarblatt, certain Engineers, and the Hands will be conducted soon.)

MARCEL

Originally from France, Marcel is a Moleperson who immigrated to Voldoa for the promise of safety. As Voldoa has outlawed any mining or tunneling done by civilians, Marcel tries to suppress his natural burrowing instinct by working as a gardener. The remainder of his anxiety is poured into hoarding bits and bobs for his "Nest".

Voldoa: City of Monsters (Reborn)

Marcel

MARCEL

Originally from France, Marcel is a Moleperson who immigrated to Voldoa for the promise of safety. As Voldoa has outlawed any mining or tunneling done by civilians, Marcel tries to suppress his natural burrowing instinct by working as a gardener. The remainder of his anxiety is poured into hoarding bits and bobs for his "Nest".

Academy 218: Still looking for new people to join - now is the primetime.

---

Creed Boggs & Adam Blackmore

"No, that's not what I meant." Creed said, obviously more worked up than Adam. "You're putting words in my mouth here. I'm not saying that we're destined to become the dominant species. I just know for fact that it's bound to happen. Survival of the fittest." Creed went on, pointing at the computer screen. It was a live feed of a court case. A metahuman, named Taylor Domin, in Tulsa was being accused of using his powers to create counterfeit bills. "I mean, look at this guy. He knows he has a gift, he's living off food stamps, so he uses his gift. Survival of the fittest." Creed repeated.

Ah, the age old debate. Adam just never tires of it. He was still leaning up against his desk, reading the book. With Creed being the next person in his office. Every now and then, a Meta-Supremacist comes around the school, and shares his views. "Settle down, Creed," Adam started off. "Domination is not the way. Equality, and understanding, is. Even if you believe in survival of the fittest, this is simply more proof that these Metahumans need helping. This man would have never resorted to this if NEST offered more than regulations..."

"Yeah, but," Creed paused for a second. This wasn't the first time he and Adam debated about their political views. Creed wasn't sure if Adam put up with his debates out of interest, or a sense of duty as a teacher. Or maybe just boredom. "He wouldn't have to resort to that if those backwoods hicks wouldn't deny him jobs." He stood from his seat, throwing his hands up. "So this guy grows up backwards-ass Oklahoma, living off food stamps and getting discriminated against at every turn, and then he starts supporting his family with his power." He paced around the room, continuing his wild gesticulations. "Now look, he's getting hit with 30 years. And I'll bet the same guys arresting him were the same ones beating him up as a kid. They build this system up, so that, that," He took a breath, with a bewildered look on his face. "They're always at the top and we're at the bottom, and that's just because they're afraid of us!"

"... Have you considered the fact that they have a reason to be afraid of us?" Adam closed his eyes at the same time he closed his book. "No, it isn'r far. No, it will never change - it's a fear that some people had from the start. But, the best everyone can do is work to change that perception that we're a threat. That we're monsters out to destroy. After we, as a people, accomplish that, then incidents like this will stop cropping up." Adam looked Creed dead in the eye. "... Your... "Metahumans will become the dominants" belief, is not helping.

"Trust me, I know about people thinking you're a monster to destroy." Creed barked. He paused for a second, letting himself cool down. "But they're, not," He struggled to find the right words. "But, but, we..." Adam's words had a strong point, but not strong enough to pierce the armor of resentment Creed had built over the years. "Whatever." Creed said, making his way to the door.

Creed stormed down the hallway, his hands clenched into fists. He wouldn't ever admit it, but Adam had a good point. He would've replied with his usual retort to the other students, but he knew Adam wouldn't listen to a word of it. They want us gone, so why not act first? he thought to himself. Not his words, but words he had heard repeated many times.

He pushed through the double doors that lead to the outside world, and quickly made his way down the path. He had gone this way many times before. Eventually, he made a turn off the path and into the woods that surrounded the academy. His hands still clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists, he brushed through most of the branches with his broad shoulders, grunting angrily at every few snags he would encounter.

Slowly, he heard less and less activity from the school, and more of nature. There was a buzzing cicada in the distance, and a few birds chirping. Although it was far more tranquil a place than the school itself, he hadn't been coming to the woods to meditate. Eventually, after hiking through the trail he had made for himself over time, he arrived at his destination. The ruins.

It was a circle of large buildings that had faced years of weather. Some were crumbling, and some only looked incomplete. Many had long clawmarks trailing down the side, which where fresh with silver streaks of untouched concrete that had been below the surface of the rust and grit. Creed had delivered those blows. He had come here many times before to blow off steam, and today was no exception. Nobody but perhaps a few wild animals were ever hurt during these rampages, allowing Creed a relatively safe way to vent his anger.

Quickly, he began to undress, throwing off his boots and socks. He only had a few more moments of holding his transformation off. He unclipped his suspenders, throwing them to the ground alongside his shirt. His jeans, as always, would stay on. They were usually torn to shreds from his legs growing, but allowed him a level of decency when he would inevitably come to. After all, his waist was unaffected by the transformation, so he'd just end up looking like he wore shorts that were very torn, and very short.
He exhaled, satisfied that he had arrived and undressed before transforming. He let his fists unclench, allowing the urge that he had been fighting to overcome him.

The first part of transforming was his skeleton -- He always hated that. He felt them stretch, audibly creaking as they pulled themselves into an unnaturally long caricature of what they were meant to be. He felt everything, from his marrow pushing itself into the tiniest crevices of his arms, to his toenails slicing his delicate pink skin as they pushed out of his feet. His muscles were next. His heart raced, pumping blood through his body with an alarming quickness, as his muscles engorged and grew. Huge blocks of muscles shifted together in his shoulders, his arms, and then his torso. He dropped to one knee as the process reached his legs, which hurt the most of the transformation -- Almost like the growing pains he remembered from childhood. His nails and teeth slowly fit into place, creaking as the pushed themselves out of his body.

The transformation was complete. He was still hunched over, realigning his footing. He stood up, and sniffed the air. His swollen facial muscles and tightened skin covered up his eyes and plugged his ears, but his newfound sense of smell made up for it. He could sense everything around him nearly as good as he could without his sight, and sensed some things even better. A fox had marked the tree behind him. One of the rabbits to his east was in heat. The wind even carried the smell of a cigarette.

None of that mattered, though, He came to let out his anger, not to smell out his surroundings. He leapt onto the side of one of the shorter buildings, and pulled himself up with ease. He dropped to all fours and bounded down the rooftop before leaping onto the side of a much taller, less ruined building. He climbed quickly, sinking his claws into the concrete, pulling himself up like a bear would climb a tree. He reached the peak, and looked into the distance. Nothing but the ruins and the trees. Just how he liked it.

He let out a roar.

Academy 218: Still looking for new people to join - now is the primetime.

Leonard Boggs, Harmon Rottlage, and Casper Hayat

---

After the incident, the two continued into the dormitory. Casper, the young man on the receiving end of the shit stick, didn't seem all too happy about the event in general. Maybe they'd run into him again and find a way to cheer him up, who knows. Lenny led Harmon up the staircase, up towards the third floor. They passed by door after door until they reached their destination; 269. Lenny chuckled a bit as he stood before the door. He turned to Harmon, who didn't return a smile. Either he wasn't amused, or the joke went right over him. Lenny shrugged. "Let's see if my roommate's here." He said, raising his hand and knocking on the door.

Sitting in his bed, pondering the events which had occurred, Casper managed a heavy sigh and reached for his handheld console. Why did this always have to happen? This time it was prevented but what about next time? First a teacher would save him from the clutches of misery and then two misfits would come and do the same. A third time would probably not be as kind to the boy. He had retired to his dorm only moments after the ordeal, not wanting to face any further hardships. Well, he wouldn't be left alone. Not quite yet. Breaking his attention from the screen, the boy would notice how the door swung open to reveal two familiar faces. He almost jumped off the bed first but instead sat silent, glaring at them. Was one of those his roommate?

"Oh, hey, it's you." Lenny said calmly, looking over at Casper. He did a double take towards Harmon, then back to the young man, and said, "You, uh, must be my new roommate. Cool."

It took a short moment before Casper could fully ground himself with the situation. Eventually, however, he managed a soft smile. This was him, huh? Well, at least it wasn't the pig he first expected. "Hello..." He spoke, waiting for them to tread further into the room.

As the duo walked further inside, Lenny turned his head to scan the place. "Looks pretty good, right?" He said, nudging Harmon with his shoulder. He was met with nothing but a nod as a response. After a moment he called out, "Oh, shit, uh... names, right." He turned to Casper and said, "I'm Lenny Boggs, man. This is my buddy Harmon. What's your name?"

Harmon! That was his name! Well, Casper wasn't too far off, was he? The boy looked between them before responding, turning his Playstation off. "I'm Casper..." He spoke quietly, still a bit unsure of how to approach this. Lenny seemed very confident in himself but Harmon had remained quiet. He was probably like Casper on that account, shy and reserved. Well, at least Casper had said hello, now. He could cross that from his bucket list.

"Oh, like the, uh... the friendly ghost. Heh." He tucked his hands in his pockets and passed a quick glance at the Xbox lying near the television. "Anyway, uh..." He said, "Me and Harm-O here are gonna just sit down and play this 50 Cent game. You cool with that?"

The friendly little ghost...Casper flinched slightly at hearing that but he didn't make a big deal out of it. In fact, he didn't even comment on it. Apart from the slight sting he felt from hearing those words, he knew that Lenny didn't mean anything by it. He didn't seem like the person who would intentionally be mean, besides...he had saved Casper, with Harmon at his side. "Yeah..." The boy nodded at Lenny's question. It was his room too, they could do whatever they wanted within reason.

Lenny nodded and knelt down to power up the console. Harmon continued to stand upright, but by now, he was focusing the lens of his camera - still clipped to his coat - on Casper. He felt like he'd caught a glimpse of him before the incident downstairs, but it wasn't coming back to mind. Maybe it was the shards' fault. While Lenny was getting the game ready - and by the notion that is was a game about 50 Cent, everyone in the room knew how much fun it was going to be - he worked up the gall to make some small talk. "Y-... are, uh... are you, new here?" He said softly.

Casper blinked a few times at the question and understood that Harmon hadn't noticed him last year. Well, he wasn't really that visible, though given the fact that his hair was always dyed in some way, he could be spotted easily enough. "No..." He shook his head. "I've been here since last year..."

"Ah..." Harmon responded, saying nothing further beyond that. He slowly turned his head back towards the television and slumped downward, taking a seat at the floor beside the bed Casper was resting on. At that moment, Lenny spoke up again.

"Oh, uh, girl named Kayla is gonna show up later too. Just so ya know."

Academy 218: Still looking for new people to join - now is the primetime.

Leonard Boggs and Harmon Rottlage

---

Lenny stared into space, chewing the inside of his lip. He was sitting on a bench in the garden, where he and Harmon planned on meeting up. He had little to occupy his time, although he had been listening to music on his phone, which provided some relief. Occasionally he'd hear a dragonfly or cicada whizzing through the air, but besides that, there was only the pleasant sway of the trees in the breeze, and murmur of far-away students.

It was nice.

"Lenny!" Came a strained but excited voice to the right. Lenny turned his head to see Harmon approaching, one hand raised.

"Heya!" Lenny said, scootching to the side of the bench, allowing more room for his friend to sit. He unplugged his headphones, allowing the music to play freely.

"So, tell me about the academy. First day's been alright so far. I hear Creed got into a fight or something." He reached into his pocket and pulled out two corndogs he had wrapped in a paper towel, handing one to Harmon.

"Creed..." Harmon asked, dropping his smile a bit. He took the corndog but didn't bother starting to eat it just yet. "I, I wouldn't know... I don't go to, to the... a-arena..."

Lenny nodded, biting into his room-temperature snack. "Creed came with, but we don't have classes or room together. He took a few more bites as he leaned back, admiring the flora that the two were surrounded by. "I think he'll calm down now that he's not part of a gang and stuff."

Lenny paused for a moment, remembering Harmon's strained relationship with Creed. His brother didn't dislike Harmon -- In fact, it was the opposite. Creed adored Harmon like a brother, frequently inviting him for dinner, or to join The Immortals. He respected Harmon's experience as a physically different metahuman, and frequently spoke to Rottlage about "Metahuman Unity". Harmon, on the other hand, almost feared Creed. Although he was well-meaning, Creed was loud, rough, and outspoken. All the things Harmon wasn't. Sort of like a very big dog trying to befriend a very nervous cat.

"So, whatcha wanna play when he head to my room?" Lenny asked, changing the subject.

"I, uh..." Harmon replied, "I still don't know..."

"I brought Soul Calibur, Halo, and that one game with 50 Cent in it. And Katamari."

"I'm, I'm... I'm okay with, uh, anything..." Harmon responded, still holding the corndog and not eating it. Maybe he wasn't hungry.

"Don't worry, Harm-O. I know which game you want." Lenny said. "If you want to play the 50 Cent game, we'll play the 50 Cent game. Let's go." He chuckled and stood up, biting off the last bit of his corndog.

He stretched, pausing the music that he had left playing, shoving his phone in his pocket. He looked at his old friend for a moment, still letting it sink in that they were together again. It was a nice feeling.

"You gonna eat that?"

Academy 218: Still looking for new people to join - now is the primetime.

---

Creed Boggs & Diego Julius Bellasquez

Adam's Class

---

Creed stood in the back of the crowd, leaning against a wall. He was the tallest in the room, save for the instructor, with the broadest shoulders and meanest face. He chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously. He hated people telling him what to do, and he hated the suit he was wearing. He hated the big, organized group he had been placed into, and he hated organized things in general. A younger student standing next to him quietly sniffed, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve. He hated that kid too.

"Thirty-odd kids in here, and I stand next to sniffles. Great." Creed muttered, staring straight ahead. The younger boy sighed lightly, and quietly took a few paces to the left, pretending he hadn't heard. Creed chuckled to himself, satisfied with the power he had.

Looks like relaxing is out of the question. Diego raised his head, and looked at Creed. Some tall guy was picking on some kid because he had a sneeze. This guy just looked like trouble... He was tall, and intimidating, but that wasn't the part that scared Diego. The guy practically breathed Skinhead. The kind of person who would take delight in kicking his ass just because he's Spanish. San-Franisco had tons of those people - and Diego just learned to avoid them. Normally, Diego would have stayed away from the guy, but he was being an asshat to some kid. A young kid too.

'Heha... You should make an example out of him, use him to prove your strength - our strength - to the entire world....' Agni whispered in his attempts to provoke Diego to wrath. 'Like you said, he looks exactly like a skinhead... think of the people he hurt in the name of Supremacy...'

Again, Agni? Diego paused for a moment. Fortunately for him, Agni never beat around the bush. He could always see through his ruses. He wanted a fight - Diego wanted peace.... still, he knew that peace cannot always be attained with words. With someone like him, it had to be force. A sad truth. Nonetheless, Diego started taking steps towards Creed. The second he was in front of him, he crossed his arms. He gave him a narrow glare with his amber eyes. "Listen, sir," Diego said, "You don't have to be so rough. He just got a little sneeze." He was trying to defuse the situation.

Creed slowly turned his head, almost mechanically. He looked down, locking eyes with the younger boy. Tan skin, triangle nose, short black hair. He looked a bit like a guy Creed knew, who'd show up at Immortals meetings occasionally. Unsurprisingly, Creed hated that guy too. Creed stared at him for a moment, sizing him up. It was rare that someone would confront him like this, even if they didn't know about his power. He wasn't itching for a fight, but a few people were looking, and Creed wasn't about to be the guy who gets pressed on the first day of school.

"Listen, sir," Creed said, furrowing his brow. "I wasn't tryin' to start no shit." He stood up straighter, dropping his casual lean into a more aggressive stance -- His chest was puffed out, and his arms were pulled back a bit. "Are you?"

'Bwahahahahahahahahahahaha! Do it now, he's asking for it! Strike him down with all your strength, Diego! HAHAHAHAHA!' Agni shouted into Diego's head, which sure as hell wasn't helping him think clearly.

Great, Creed was trying to shit-pick. Just what he expected the guy to do. Okay, he thought about it. Creed was much bigger than him, and probably a better fighter. Two years in prison made Diego tough too, but he doubted if he could match Creed physically. The only thing he could think of was matching him power-wise - and he still didn't know what ace Creed had. It felt scary... like prison all over again. One thing Diego knew is that he couldn't back off. He has to look equally strong. Therefore, his posture didn't change at all, he kept his arms tightly wrapped around himself. "No, but I can finish anything you start." A simple way to put it.

Creed smirked, tilting his head with an audible crunch. "This is me, starting it." His hands balled into fists, and he took a step forward. Almost instinctively, a few of the students around Diego and Creed took a few steps back, ready for the fight about to unfold. Whispers grew less quiet by the second as the two boys squared off, and a small circle formed around them.

"Hahahah! Whoop his ass, Diego!" Lupe shouted from the sidelines, egging both of them on.

"... Need I remind the two of you the rather heavy consequences of a fight - especially in my class.." Adam spoke down to the two, from his stage. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his expression seemed tense. However, his body was unmoving "First, I will personally break up the fight, then I will personally drag both of you to the detention center. Now, choose your next actions very carefully, or else I will have no choice but to make an example out of the two of you."

Creed did not break his line of sight with Diego, but heard him clearly. He paused for a second, his attention rapidly darting back and forth between the positioning of Diego's hands, the noise of the crowd, and his teacher's words. Backing off might not make him look tough, but swinging and then getting manhandled by some guy in a wetsuit would make him look like a bitch.

"I'll see you in the arena, bitch." He spat on the ground between the two of them, and then brushed past him to the front of the crowd, nodding at Adam in a display of silent obedience.

As Creed walked off, and the crowd dispersed, Diego stood there, watching him. Silently. He was wondering if he even did the right thing here. Was he just acting stupid? What drove him to do this? He....

'You know exactly why boy...' Agni started off his explanation. 'You're violent as I am... you want to burn the world to ashes... Starting with him.' Agni started loudly laughing, a laughter that only he could hear.

'We'll see you in the arena alright...'