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4 mos ago
Current Status update: staying up all n8ght fuckin sucks and procrastination is a vile temptress.
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2 yrs ago
4 months into this hole 'being a responsible adult thing' and I've come to a conclusion: It sucks and I want to go back to the days where I didn't have to plan out my game time.
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2 yrs ago
Was supposed to be productive tonight. . . will try to be productive in the morning
4 likes
2 yrs ago
Taking a short break from posting till Monday/Tuesday, hopefully will feel more creative and less brain-dead
2 yrs ago
That feeling when you want to post, but you're brain just doesn't feel like cooperating.
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will post a thing later today
After the first 3 volunteers went up, the rest generally fell in-line with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Noir seemed pleased none the less for the participation clapping his hand together after the last first years went.

"Ah yes, yes. It's a wonder to meet you all. Now then, with that out of the way, I should probably tell yo-"

"Actually, Noir," The silver-haired youth appeared next to his dark-haired compatriot in what seemed like an instant, lightly pushing him to the side as he took center stage before the crowd. "I think I'll be the one to tell them what we're doing. After all, it was partly my suggestion to the headmaster that them here." Silme's chuckle earned a confused frown from Noir, clearly not accustomed to the wolf Faunus offering to do, well, anything. That being said, he quickly stepped back and watched, looking unsure of whether or not Silme could be trusted to not pull some wild stunt.

"Now then, greenhorns, the test is pretty damn simple: We've noticed a gathering of Grimm out in the desert recently. Nothing too sizable, but definitely enough to be strange and worrisome to the nearby villages and what have you." Reaching into his pocket, Silme pulled out his scroll to casually tap a button. Soon after, a ringing came from every first year's scroll, the screen lighting up with first a document on the environmental conditions of the area and the types of Grimm that had been spotted among the gathering. It was mostly just your basic Creepers and Beowulves, though some reports talk of the possibilities of other kinds being present, so keep an eye out.. . oh, almost forgot about the Garuda. They'll make the landing a bit difficult ". . . but you're all huntsman, right? You all should be fine if you're worth your salt."

"Wait, what do you mean by 'landing'?" Noir's protest was quickly barreled over as Silme talked over him, gesturing towards a few people within the crowd.

"Okay so. . . my group of newbies was. . . Opal, Cherry, Orchard, and Caramel. . . that doesn't seem right, does it? Amara!"

"Opal's right, the rest are so off that I know you're just fucking with them, so don't waste our time with the schtick."

"Yes, hilarious really, but is no one going to bring up him using the word 'landing'?"

"Ahh, you're no fun, Amara. Wouldn't be proper of us Upperclassmen to let the freshies off without a little hazing." Silme waved the pink-ish red girl off before turning his attention back to the crowd. "Fine. Opal, Cerry, Ochre, and Carobelle. The lot of you are with me, so let me let you in on something. Us Third years aren't just here to make sure none of you kick the bucket, but we'll be the ones who decide whether you pass or fail based on what you see of your performance and how well you listen to our directions. And I'm a pretty strict grader, so you all best give it your best if you don't want to be sent packing after this is all over."

Silme let his words hang in the air for a moment as he went over to one of the windows, gazing out into the wide blue yonder with a sly grin before turning his eyes towards the ground. The intercom burst to life as a slight rising sensation was felt by everyone inside as the aircraft gained altittude


Senju Complex ->Academy, Konohagakure
Present Day, Daybreak



As the dreary rain beat a staccato rhythm against the rooftops of the Senju clan Compound, a young boy seemed oblivious to these sounds from where he sat. Head down against a desk littered with various sealing diagrams, papers, ink wells, and everything else the young Sealing prodigy could need, he lay in a deep but troubled sleep. His features were scrunched, and every passing second brought with it some twitch or low groan, tell-tale signs of a nightmare ravaging his poor mind. So tightly did this terror have a hold of him that even the sound of the rice-paper door sliding open did not wake him.

"Young Master? Young Master, it's time to get up." The servant was a man of elder years, a faithful servant of the Senju. But as he trudged through the mess of seal diagrams, half-opened scrolls, and who knows how brushes, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath about the indignity of the young man put under his charge. With a sigh, he placed on the boy's shoulder in order to rouse him. "Youn-"

The words had barely left his mouth when the boy suddenly jolted to an upright position at the man's touched, violet eyes wide and bloodshot as he brought up a sealing tag before him, breathing heavily as his gaze swept across the room. the servant, for his part, did his best to give the boy his space, knowing how he tended to get after his nightmares. . . though this one must've been rather bad for him to have this kind of reaction.

"Master Kiyoshi . . . calm yourself. It was only a dream." The servant held his hands out, makign sure to make no sudden movements as he waited for the young man to full come wake and come to his senses. The wait was not long, thankfully, as the hazy glare of Kiyoshi's gaze steady after a few blinks, tag lowering back to the desk as he rubbed at the bridge of his noses.

"Yes. . . Yes, of course." He muttered softly, looking down at his work from the previous night with a far off look. Before the servant could deem to try and comfort the boy with whatever words of wisdom he had, Kiyoshi raised a hand to silence him. "It's fine. It's not the first nightmare I've had. . . tell mother I'll be making my way to the academy in a bit."

". . . Do you not want to try. . speaking with her?"

"We both know how that will turn out." A cold reply, with barely a hint of remorse.

"But maybe-"

"I said no!" This time the words held heat, a heat that burned within the violet eyes glaring from beneath a messy curtain of scarlet. "I am a genin now, are I Not? Not a child that needs to hide under his mother's skirt whenever his mind plays tricks. It will pass, like always. So remember your place and do not push the subject."

". . . As you wish, young master." The servant let out a sigh, as he turned away to allow Kiyoshi to get ready in privacy. It was a vain hope, but the old man often hoped that the young master would try to take steps to overcome his trauma. His mother often confided in him how she feared her own child held some ill will against her, and after so many years serving the young boy. . . he was inclined to agree. Even with his unusual fear, his avoidance of his mother seemed extreme. But alas, there was nothing he could do. Trying to force the issue only worsened matters, as the old servant found the tales of Uzumaki stubbornness to be quite true in regards to the young heir. No, the only way this matter could be resolved is if the boy wished for it to be. He could only wish that day come sooner rather than later.


Kiyoshi walked to the Academy in his usual state of dress, with hair a barely combed mass of wild, messy waves, unkempt bangs framing an effeminate face, his small figure draped in a cotton yukata ill-befitting his station but much less costly o replace when it became inevitably stained with Fuin Ink. This morning, a particularly large ink smudge was present on his face, a remnant of the last night's project. He inwardly cursed his inability to stay awake, as he had likely negated last night's progress with his carelessness. Rubbing at his eyes, the boy took his seat towards the back of his room, setting his parasol to the side of him as he took a small scroll from the folds of his yukata. The parasol that he used was imbued with seals to improve its ability to protect against the rain, but still, the young Uzumaki felt a distaste for the weather around. Not only did it make for a poor omen, but it also meant he was unable to work on his seals before class. A truly irritating circumstance.

Alas, the day's irritations didn't seem to end with just poor weather, as Kiyoshi felt a different kind of chill crawl up his spine, a lone inkling that proceeded the coming storm that was Hyuuga Hikari. The branch member seemed to have it out for him for some idiotic reason that he couldn't begin to understand, and she proved a constant annoyance day in and day out. With any luck, today would be the last in which he ever had to interact with the she-devil ever again. That being said, 'interact'would be a strong word for what Kiyoshi did as Hikari stood in front of him.

While the Hyuuga's words flew into one ear and out the other, every step towards him prompted 3 steps away by Kiyoshi, his eyes kept downward as he felt his heart rate quicken in her presence, his breathing growing haggard as he sought a way out of this situation. I should've gone to get Shunpei. . he would be able to fend of this annoyance. . . or at the very least, assist me in facilitating a response.

Alas, Shunpei was not in sight, so Kiyoshi had to make due with what possessions he had on hand. Clenching the handle of his parasol tight, he made to walk around the Hyuuga, offering her no words of greeting nor even acknowledgment of her presence. Honestly, he just wished to be as far away from her as possible. He was hardly in the mood for her games in the first place, and after today's . . . incident, that mood had only worsened.

Vacuan Desert, Midday



The air within the airship was hot, stuffy, and reeked of humanity as the large group of perspective Shade students huddle next to each other in the cramped vehicle. The only light present within was scorching rays that came in through the windows, and for those who looked out, nothing but wasteland was present to greet them for as far the eye could see. Almost as oppressive as the heat was the slight thrum of anticipation that hung over all of them, especially as they saw the small group of older students whisper and converse among themselves near the front of the ship. This uneasy, murmuring silence would continue to fill the room until a sudden outburst rang through the hull.

"By the gods, this is taking forever!"One of the third years, a tall, rough-looking Faunus with silver hair and tail complained as he looked out one of the windows, fiddling with a rather hi-tech looking gauntlet as his foot drummed u a constant beat upon the metal floor of the airship with his impatient tapping.

"Kid, calm down. We haven't been flying for that long." One of the pilots said in response without looking back, massaging the bridge of his nose before turning back to address the hold of students as a whole. "Might be a bit longer than we expected tho. Got a call from the group ahead of us, looks like the testing area is a little bit too hot for us to land there. We'll just keep cruising by it and you'll have to walk over." The silver-haired youth let out a curse, glancing over the rookies in the hold with a clear sense of disdain.

"We'd probably be able to land just fine if we didn't have to play babysitter for these fucking greenhorns." The complaint got a bit of a chuckle out of the other third years, though one merely clicked his tongue, walking up to his fellow student with a flamboyant swagger.

"Oh come on Wolfy, no need to get your tail in a bunch like that." With dark hair, crimson eyes, and a suit that seemed more for some kind of masquerade ball then the battlefield, he made for a rather odd- fit for the more weathered looking Shade students. One that wasn't [artcularly well-liked either, if the expressions on the others were anything to go by, especially the Faunus boy as the glare he gave made it clear how much he wanted to pound his classmate's face in. "Easy there, I'm just saying. We should make are juniors feel more welcome, no? We were all first years at one point, so no need to treat them as a burden like that, right?"

With a twirl, the dark-haired senior student gave a smile and a wave to the assembled students, walking up to take a position in front of them all, almost like a teacher of sorts.

"With that said, I'll go ahead and introduce myself and start things off. My name is Noir of Team NOIR, a pleasure to meet you all. I would introduce my other team members, but sadly, no one else on my team was interested in this venture. A pity, truly, to be separated from them, no matter how brief." Placing his hand over his heart, Noir seemed to wilt at the thought but quickly sprung back up to gesture towards the group of prospective students, a grin back on his face. "But enough about me, would any of you like to introduce ourselves? Perhaps you have some questions about Shade Academy? Anyone? Anyone at all? Oh, perhaps we should go first. . . yeah, come on guys! Let's be the example for our little juniors, it's only right. I promise that we don't bite. . . well, most of us anyway. Not sure about Silme over there."

Noir turned to give a small wave to the impatient silver-haired youth, whose only response was a prompt "Fuck off!" before he went back to looking out the window. The other third years were more willing to introduce themselves, giving their own names and team names, though this felt more due to Noir's expectant looks rather than any desire to make things easier for the 1st years.

"Uh, my name's Shane, leader of Team Shadow. . . Don't look at me, I didn't choose it." He was a rather tall individual, with bluish green hair, decked out in rather bulky looking armor, at least when compared to the more casual dress of his fellow Huntsman and Huntresses.

"I'm Magnolia, part of team Vermillion. I can't wait to get to know you all. . . well, those who pass anyway." A tan-skinned young woman dressed in a rough, off-white get up of leather pants, a similarly colored crop-top and little else. After her introduction, seemed to be more interested in reading something on her scroll then talking to anyone.

"Amara. Team Brass. Can I sit back down now?" The reluctant intro came from a short young woman dressed in a black and reddish-pink outfit, at least that's what it seemed from what wasn't completely covered by the large cloak she draped around herself.

"HI! I'm Bei of Team Raspberry! Don't let those three grumps get to you, I'm sure you'll all do great." Clearly the only one other than Noir who seemed genuinely excited, the hyper girl was dressed in a rather casual outfit of jeans and a regular shirt, though she did have a rather strange. . . contraption that seemed to frame her body, almost like an exoskeleton of sorts.

Noir clapped as they finished the intros, grinning as he gave his juniors an expectant look, eager to see who would be the first to follow the example of the older students. "Come on then, don't be shy! We're all going to so much fun, after all, so we should get to know each other more directly!"

@Grey@HokumPocus@Inkarnate@Euphonium
@SynI think the general idea is that we'd all be in one group, so if secondling does get around to accepting Sloth's initial idea then it'd be difficult to also include a guy who is currently looking for said sword.

Sidenote: frick I forgot to intro myself. Name's raijin, been stalking this thread for a bit and was initially going to offer my idea before I butted my nose in so. . . whoops

Side-sidenote: anyway, my general idea can kinda be summed up as "Wuxia Ghost in the Shell"

basically, The rundown was that he was your classic retainer-type warrior, extremely loyal to his master. Was tasked with defending his master's young daughter, who he began to see as his own.

Dark ritual happens involving master sacrificing his strongest, most loyal retainers as well as the daughter, to bring a puppet to life via a pact with demons. However, my dude manages to take control of the puppet from the demons via pure force of will as well as rage at the betrayal of himself and his comrades. Goes on a mad rampage and kills a lot of people, only to be stopped by the daughter's spirit when he was about to slaughter an innocent mother and child.

Has now been wandering for 10-20 years barely clinging to his humanity as he feels the demonic magic tied to his body try and push him to commit acts of violence. Often wonders if he still fights for himself or if it's due to the dark forces worked into his form.

Special abilities that he has, aside from everything that being a living puppet entails, is that he's able to call upon the skills of those that were sacrificed along with him. this was initially something like 20 styles, but over the years, many of those souls have been degraded into nothingness from his channeling of them, thus leaving him with, like, 5 or so fighting styles to choose from at present, including his own.

Not sure how viable this idea is with Wuxia, but i like the idea of a man bereft of his honor, his life, and even his humanity struggling to do good, while also questioning why he even still goes on.

Name: Daphne
Age: 30
Race: Dhamphir(Bauchstehen)
Height: 5'9
Weight: 165
Class: Kineticist
Appearance: Daphne could be best described as an enchanting young woman, bearing a heart-shaped face framed by short bangs of raven hair and eyes like glimmering gold orbs that sem to speak of an intelligence far beyond her years. The influence of her Bauchstehen mother can be seen in the tapered tips that sharpen many of her features as well as her relatively tall stature. Thanks to the variety of her mother's race, the telling features of her Vetala-bloodline are much more difficult to parse without the use of specialized magic, the only possible tell being the slight fang-like point to her canines, though they are bearly much bigger than that of a normal person.
Personality: Daphne is a playful girl, often to a rather disagreeable fault. Always eager to learn new things about the world, it can be nearly impossible to get her to settle down in th epresence of new knowledge. Along with this is her rather stubborn nature when denied something she wants or is uised to getting, the result ing tantrums often leading to her flexing her strange abilities in order to cow whoever stands in her way. Despite being relatively kind to most, an angered Daphne will see little problem in hurting those who get in between her and her desires, though often finds that the threat of doing something proves to be just as effective as actually doing it, if not more so.

Despite her childish nature, one would be foolish to dimiss her based entirely on such an impression, While definitely not the most worldy or patient of individuals, she is one possessed of a snake's cunning when it comes to getting what she wantsor gaining revenge on those who she believes to have wronged her. Patientce isn't a virtue she takes to with any speed, but if no other choice is sensible, she is capable of holding a long and lasting grudge and waiting as long as is needed to finally get her way.

Biography: Daphne was, quite simply, born to be a weapon, brought into the world by a bargain between her Vetala-sire and a powerful necromancer. Despite this truth, however, her early life was not one of egregious hardships or overtly cruel treatment. While the experiments that the Necromancer put her through to give her the power she know possesses were undoubtedly painful, after each gauntlet of trials she was treated with the utmost care and softness. her master, as he bid her to callhim, often gave her anything she requested of him as long as she participated with his efforts, and even when she didn't in some of her more rebellious moods. He was everything that she could ever want in a guardian: Kind, soft-spoken, understanding. Not only that, but the day when his experiments bore fruit within her, birthing a strange, but miraculous new power within her core. . . the jpoy and praise that he heaped upon her left her in jpyful tears.

Unfortunately, as she'd later come to realize, it was this success that uncovered the location of her Master's lair, as the immense surge of Negative energy, as brief as it had been, had been noticed, Within days of the discovery, her Master's home was set upon by a great force of intruders, bursting through his defenses and traps with worrisome speed. Daphne was more than prepared to tear down anyone that threatened her master or his work, but he denounced her for such thoughts. She was not ready to face such powerful foes, not as she was in that moment. As such, he had her spirited away under the cover of shadows so that his success wouldn't be destroyed by those who wouldn't understand. Daphne's last glimpse of her master was him turning to face of against a horde of faceless foes in armor.

In the years following her escape from her master, she could find no news or trace of him, aside from news that the forces sent to capture the 'vile necromancer' had failed. The simply joy in hearing that her master had escaped from his pursurers satiated her in the moment, as she thought that he'd soon come to her at any moment. But as days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years, she found herself wondering in silence where her master had gone. Why hadn't he come for her? Had she been. . . abandoned?

Such a thought was too much for her to bare, and so she convinced herself that there was no way that it could be true. Instead, she dedicated herself to finding her master, traveling all over in search of him, as well as learning all she could about the world outside of his lair. She came into some trouble now and again, partially due to misunderstanding, partially due to recklessness and her own volatile temperament. But she never stopped looking for him, convinced that they would see each other again.
Hex: (hex value for character dialogue)

FAQ
AC: 15
Attack: Gravity Blast: +3 to hit, 1d6+5 damage
Negative Energy Blast: +3 to hit, 1d6+3 damage
Special Traits: Undead Resistance: Dhampirs gain a +2 racial bonus on saving throws against disease and mind-affecting effects.
Resist Level Drain (Ex): A dhampir takes no penalties from energy drain effects, though he can still be killed if he accrues more negative levels then he has Hit Dice. After 24 hours, any negative levels a dhampir takes are removed without the need for an additional saving throw.
Light Sensitivity: Dhampirs are dazzled in areas of bright sunlight or within the radius of a daylight spell.
Negative Energy Affinity: Though a living creature, a dhampir reacts to positive and negative energy as if it were undead—positive energy harms it, while negative energy heals it.
Vampiric Empathy: Though dhampirs often relate poorly to humanoids, some share an affinity with baser creatures. These dhampirs gain the ability to communicate with bats, rats, and wolves as if under the effects of a speak with animals spell (caster level equal to 1/2 the dhampir’s Hit Dice). In addition, they gain a +2 racial bonus on Diplomacy checks when dealing with these animals. Whenever these dhampirs initiate an exchange, animals begin with a starting attitude of indifferent. This is a supernatural ability. This racial trait replaces manipulative.
Alternate Spell-Like Ability: Ajibachanas gain comprehend languages as a spell-like ability.
Senses:Darkvision: Dhampir see perfectly in the dark up to 60 feet.
Low-light vision: In addition to their ability to see perfectly in the dark up to 60 ft, dhampir have low-light vision, allowing them to see twice as far as humans in conditions of dim light.
Skills-
(List commonly used, ranked, or specially modified skills)Acrobatics: +5, Escape Artist: +5, Intimidate:+4, Stealth: +5, Use Magic Device: +4
Link
Vacuan Desert, Midday


The air within the airship was hot, stuffy, and reeked of humanity as the large group of perspective Shade students huddle next to each other in the cramped vehicle. The only light present within was scorching rays that came in through the windows, and for those who looked out, nothing but wasteland was present to greet them for as far the eye could see. Almost as oppressive as the heat was the slight thrum of anticipation that hung over all of them, especially as they saw the small group of older students whisper and converse among themselves near the front of the ship. This uneasy, murmuring silence would continue to fill the room until a sudden outburst rang through the hull.

"By the gods, this is taking forever!"One of the third years, a tall, rough-looking Faunus with silver hair and tail complained as he looked out one of the windows, fiddling with a rather hi-tech looking gauntlet as his foot drummed u a constant beat upon the metal floor of the airship with his impatient tapping.

"Kid, calm down. We haven't been flying for that long." One of the pilots said in response without looking back, massaging the bridge of his nose before turning back to address the hold of students as a whole. "Might be a bit longer than we expected tho. Got a call from the group ahead of us, looks like the testing area is a little bit too hot for us to land there. We'll just keep cruising by it and you'll have to walk over." The silver-haired youth let out a curse, glancing over the rookies in the hold with a clear sense of disdain.

"We'd probably be able to land just fine if we didn't have to play babysitter for these fucking greenhorns." The complaint got a bit of a chuckle out of the other third years, though one merely clicked his tongue, walking up to his fellow student with a flamboyant swagger.

"Oh come on Wolfy, no need to get your tail in a bunch like that." With dark hair, crimson eyes, and a suit that seemed more for some kind of masquerade ball then the battlefield, he made for a rather odd- fit for the more weathered looking Shade students. One that wasn't [artcularly well-liked either, if the expressions on the others were anything to go by, especially the Faunus boy, who actually seemed to bare his teeth a bit when he was called 'Wolfy'. "Easy there, I'[m just saying. We should make are juniors feel more welcome, no? We were all first years at one point, so no need to treat them as a burden like that, right?"

With a twirl, the dark haired 3rd year gave a smile and a wave to the assembled students, walking up to take a position in front of them all, almost like a teacher of sorts.

"With that said, I'll go ahead and introduce myself and start things off. My name is Noir of Team NOIR, a pleasure to meet you all. I would introduce my other team members, but sadly, no one else on my team was interested in this venture. A pity, truly, to be separated from them, no matter how brief." Placing his hand over his heart, Noir seemed to wilt at the thought but quickly sprung back up to gesture towards the group of prospective students, a grin back on his face. "But enough about me, would any of you like to introduce ourselves? Perhaps you have some questions about Shade Academy? Anyone? Anyone at all? Don't be shy, we won't bite. . . well, most of us anyway. Not sure about Silme over there."

Noir turned to give a small wave to the impatient silver-haired youth, whose only response was a prompt "Fuck off!" before he went back to looking out the window. The other third years were more willing to introduce themselves, giving their own names and team names, though this felt more due to Noir's constant prodding than any desire among them to ease the mood for their Juniors.

"Are you fucking blind or something? We're flying past the zone?!?!" The one doing the shouting was a young man with short silver-white hair, a similarly colored tail sweeping side to side in an agitated manner, and fierce amber eyes currently focused on a flustered, but resolute pilot. T

"I-I'm sorry kid, but that LZ is filled with way too many Grimm to risk a landing right there. I'm redirecting us to another spot nearby that'll hopefully-" A bang from the youth's fist hitting the ship's ceiling silenced the pilot, flinching slightly but holding his ground. "Look, If you got a death wish, that's on you, but don't drag me into it."

The youth eyes narrowed but didn't say anything more, instead choosing to leave the pilots to their own devices. As he strode away to the drop doors, however, his gaze flittered across the gather prospects before him.

"Ochre, Opal, Carobelle, and . . . uh," He snapped his fingers a few times as he ran through some sort of mental checklist trying to remember the list the headmaster had given him. "Carrie, no. . . Cherry-no that's not it either uhh . . . Cer- Yeah, Cerry! You four are present, right?" As he waited for the lot of them to reply, the silver-haired fauns rather conspicuously began to put on the strange gauntlets that had hung by his hip this entire time. Sleek and smooth, with a white-gunmetal finish to them that was only broken by the bandoleer of dust vials that encircled the wrists. If one focused closely on them, they might just be able to make out the symbol o the Schnee dust company within the dim-lighting of the airship cabin, though it appeared to have been savagely defaced by a number of gouges in the metal's surface.

"You all are going to be teamed up with me for the coming mission. So I'm going to explain that, because just sitting around in this glorified flying toaster in silence is killing me." Pulling on his gauntlets to make sure they were on properly, the third year continued to make his way to the drop doors while speaking. While most of the prospects were looking somewhat confused, all of the third years were smirking to each other while grabbing onto their belongings. Two of them even seemed to be exchanging Lien. "Simply put, it's extermination with a twist. Something's gotten the Grimm in this area real riled up, and we're going in to clean em up. Hopefully, while that's happening, we can find out what's happening but that's a secondary objective. As our glorious headmaster always bashes into our heads, again and again, our duty is to the people and all that, blah blah blah." Silme's pantomime of the headmaster, complete with a mock salute and swaggering walk, drew a chuckle from some aboard the airship, particularly those among the third years.

"It's a simple mission with simple parameters: get in, wreck shop, maybe figure out the 'why' of it all while you do it. Now, if any of you greenhorns find yourself getting into something that you may find difficult to handle by yourselves. . . well, that's where us 3rd years come in." the youth was silent for a moment as if waiting for applause that never came. "That said, this is also a test and the six of us here are the ones handing out the grade. Whether you pass or fail depends on how we feel you handle yourselves. While we'll be sure not to let any of ya kick the bucket, don't expect us to babysit ya. If you can't deal with this kind of situation, or work with your fellow huntsman whether you've known them for 5 years or 5 seconds, then you're just not what Shade wants. We survive out here by working together and showing any creature or bandit we face out here why Shade isn't a place ya want to fuck with."

Seeming to be finished with his little speech, the Faunus continued making his way across the ship to the hangar bay doors, gauntlets whirring to life as he secured them in place. Brushing off his shoulders a bit, he glanced over his shoulder to cast an amber eye over those in his squad.

"Ochre, while you guys are under my command, you'll be second in command. Let's see you put that name of yours to good use. Carobelle, if Ochre loses his nerve out there, you're the back-up. Hope that isn't asking too much of you. Cher-no, Cerry. Try not to freeze up out there. . . and welcome to Vacuo. And finally, Opal . . . I'll admit, don't see much in ya at the moment, so try your best to prove me wrong. Oh, and as a word of advice to all of you when forming ur landing strategy, flying Grimm tend to be a good choice."

"Wait a minute, what do you me-" Was all the pilot was able to get out before the Faunus slammed his fist down on the bay door release. A fierce surge of wind blasted through the small space as the hangar doors on either side of the group slid open, muffling the myriad of curses the pilot was throwing at the young man as he turned his back towards the yawning sky. "See ya down there team. . . unless you wanna fail, that is."

And with little more than a grin and a hop, he was off. Hurtling down towards the sprawling Vacuan desert. A number of black figures polluted both the air and the land as the creatures of Grimm that had gathered swarmed over the sands, from the jackal-like Beowolves to the Garuda that patrolled the skies above. As the 4-winged Grimm saw the plummeting morsel heading there way, they were quick to fly close in on the lone Huntsman. However, as they got close, the Huntsman was quick to leap into action, flipping over in mid-air as a bright green glow emanated from the fingertips of his gauntlets. Before the Grimm could even get close, he unleashed a powerful cross slash, the wind-dust from his gauntlets unleashing it as a strong gust of buffeting winds that battered the encroaching Grimm away from him as he fell.

Another swipe of his claws launched onto the back of one of the creatures, knocking it down to a lower elevation from the impact. Before the creature could attempt to right itself, the Faunus dart across its body, lashing out with two more powerful slashes to disable two of its 4 wings. Robbed of much of the thrust that allowed it to remain airborne, the Grimm bucked wildly in an attempt to dislodge the unwanted rider as it begun a jerky downward descent to the desert floor, tho to no avail as the Huntsman dug a clawed hand into the creatures back to ride out the bumpy ride.

Back in the ship, most of the students were struggling to keep their belongings from getting sucked out the hold while a few of the third years were engaged in a shouting match with the pilot over what just happened. One of them, a dark-haired youth with crimson eyes and dressed in fancy attire, strolled over to the group as a hole hand in his pocket as he waved to the prospects.

"Greetings all. My name's Noir and the mutt that just flew out the doors was Silme, as he forgot to mention." More than a few of the third years gave Noir a sharp glare at his declaration of Silme being a 'mutt', particularly the Faunus among them, but before any of them could get into it, another barrage of shouts from the pilots took their attention away from him. "If you were one of the names called, well, I suggest you hurry before the pilot decides to close the doors, as he definitely wasn't kidding about failing you if you don't follow his crazy little scheme. Unfortunate, truly, but such things can be common when you're a student at Shade. Life's tough and all that."

Noir gave a shrug before stepping away from the doors with a flourish as if inviting the four students named to take the plunge.


First challenge: Execute your landing strategy using any attribute you feel is appropriate. Bonus points for style!(not really, but what is RWBY if not style over substance)

Name: Xander
Age: 17, almost 18
Gender: Male
Appearance: Xander is the kind to stand-out in a crowd, whether it be due to his somewhat odd shock of silver-white hair, the startling purple eye, or his insistence on wearing a rather ludicrous amount of purple in his daily attire. Standing a little bit below average at 5'6, this lack of height is made up for in him being solidly-built due to both his own training and the everyday labor every man of Xaun is often expected to take part in. Aside from this, his only other notable characteristics is a rather nasty looking scar around his neck and another over his left eye. Both are the result of a few rather serious, almost life-threatening accidents that Xander treats as if they were no more than bumps on the road of life. He also has a number of scars from the less interesting, everyday accidents that his devil-may-care approach to danger seems to attract.
Personality: Xander is an over-excitable individual who is, quite simply, really. really lonely. Despite his cheerful nature and happy-go-lucky demeanor, Xander has never really had any friends aside from his Natrelmon, Mythi. Having spent the better part of his life being ignored by everyone in his town but his father(and even that relationship was filled with no small amount of tension), the boy is quite a literally starving for any kind of positive human interaction, and when he finds it, tends to get almost overwhelmingly excited and more than a little bit clingy as a result. part of the reason he began these rites is the hope that he'll be able to make great human and natrelmon friends along the way, and maybe, not be so lonely anymore.

This being said, his loneliness isn't the only reason for him to partake in this continent-wide gauntlet. The main reason would be his love of adventure and excitement, as Xander loves few things more than the rush of adrenaline through his veins, and few things offer as good a hit of the stuff then engaging in battles with other tamers, testing skill in both guiding Natrelmon and magical dueling to create a fantastical dance of strategy that makes him feel truly alive. It is in these battles that he finds himself able to lose any sense of self-doubts or worries about his loneliness, putting 110% of his focus and effort into facing off against his opponent.

Relic: Almost laughably emblematic of his origins, Xander chose a fishing rod to be the his Relic, a durable length of wood created by his own two hands that is rather plain, if well constructed. What draws the eye, however, is the odd crystalline hook thay decorates the end of the line, a piece Xander found in a small cave while exploring the Island jungle. It's color changes depending on the typing of the Mon he currently has out.
Starting Natrelmon: Mythin and Doshe

History: Xander was born under. . . odd circumstances, to say the least. In the months leading up to his birth, their had been a strange sickness plaguing Xaun that no one could explain, draining people of their strength until they simply lost the will to move on. While their didn't seem to much in the way of physical symptoms to the disease, a commonality between all the victims was that their hair lost all pigmentation, turning into a ghostly pale white as the sickness progressed. Such was the case with Xander's mother who managed to hold out long enough to give birth to her son, but succumbed to it soon after as the strain of the ordeal proved too much for her. Her son, however, had seemed to have been touched by the illness as well, as Xander was born with pale white hair and, stranger still, bright purple eyes that seemed to almost glow at times.l

Since birth, Xander was ostracized by most others in the village, at first because they thought that he had been cursed by some fell creature and would likely spread the deadly sickness to others. However, as time passed on, people noticed that not only was Xander surviving and thriving despite the fact that he should be infected by the strange affliction that took so many, but that the sickness itself seemed to not take any new victims after his birth. And while most didn't know what to make of this strange circumstance, a few particularly paranoid villagers turn their fingers towards the child, claiming that he wasn't truly human, but likely some strange undiscovered Natrelmon that had taken over the body of an unborn child. While most dismissed this theory, it still put a mark on Xander's head as he grew up, marking him as something different and thus, something to be feared.

Things only grew worse as he grew up, however, as it wasn't long before the boy began to show strange innate magical abilities, such as being to see through walls and illusions of any kind and making it so he could pass through solid matter at will, almost like he was a spirit rather than a mortal child. Not only this, but a curious phenomenon seemed to follow the boy wherever he went, causing some level of disaster around him where ever he went and while he always managed to make it out of them relatively no worse for wear, the same couldn't be said for those around him. Numerous accidents have always occurred around Xander, often leaving him with little more than a scar and another story to tell, but others have lost fingers, arms, legs, eyes, and so on. . . even their lives. Before long, people stopped seeing him as a cursed child, but instead as a curse on the village itself that brought misfortune and disaster in its wake.

Despite this environment of mistrust and isolation, or perhaps because of it, Xander grew up to be an almost overwhelmingly positive and motivated boy. He'd often time leave the school and the village entirely to explore the wilds that made up the rest of the island, as well as bugging the trainers and tamers that often came around for tips on how to become one. Perhaps it was due to the way that he saw the other village kids idolize the trainers and their awesome companions that made him wish to become one, or maybe it was the stories of adventures that the men and women often spun to the children, speaking of intense battles and sweeping vistas that he couldn't even begin to imagine. Even Xander himself was unsure of what the true source of his desire to become a trainer was, only that he was determined to not only become a great one, but he wished to be the greatest that had ever lived.

Professions: Tamer[Specialization:Dragon](Rank 5) - 8000
Mage(4) - [Deep Knowledge:Invocation]
Magic: Stormcaller(4) - 51600
Invoker(3) -21600
Searsinging[Exorcist Flame](1) - 800
???(4) - 71600

Books:

Aspiration: To become a legendary Trainer long term, and just have a fun life in short term
Natrelmon:
[Mythi] Mythari, M, lvl 23 - 16308
[Zeke] Doshe, F, lvl 10 - 1033
[Buck]Bolvent, M, lvl 14 - 2246
[Lili]Grandra, M, lvl 20 - 8968
[Gigi]Grianos, F, lvl 20 - 8126
Doxi, F, lvl 25 - 15928
Swindle, M, lv 14 - 2246
Panzer, M, lv 25 -
Ocalia, M, lv 25 -
Cryzen, M, lv 25 -
Items: 500n
10 A relic, 2 E relics
Xander's Notebook of Natrelmon Observations, vol. 1
A traveling bag full of supplies for his journey
PDA
Notable Skills: Compotemt Outdoorsman, Expert Fisherman Nautical experience, Natural mage, Good with Natrelmon

Xander








Xander awoke the following morning feeling hardly any better than the night before, the raging heat in his blood drumming up a maddening beat of primal urges within him as he went about the daily ritual of getting ready for another day. As he rose from his hotel bed a quick glance over caused him to wince as he saw the mattress covered in a number of burns, cuts, and tears. Likely a night terror he had suffered afterthe previous night's . . . eventful conclusion with Unotori, though whatever it had been about, he could hardly begin to recall. All that came to mind as he tried was something about blood, teeth, and emotions he really didn't feel like unpacking right now, so he decided to just shove that back into his subconscious mind for now. He had a bit of a day planned out, so it's best if he got to it without any added distractions.

That, however, proved a lot harder than the Xanite initially thought it to be. It seemed like the enitre city had been affected by Unotori's influence, as Xander found himself nearly getting into several fist fights with passersby for merely bumping into them. And after that, found himself caught in th middle of no small number of spontaneous Natrelmon battles as the multitudes of trainer's that had come to Toran for their Rites seemed more than eager to get their aggression out on something or someone. It honestly took everty bit of control he had to not join in the chaotic ruckus himself, but everytime the thought rose up in his head. . . it was never just a desire to get aggression out that came to him. Always close behind was a much darker emotion, something on the verge of primality that beckoned him to commit more heinous deeds, each bystander or trainer accosting him was imagined as little more than a bleeding corpse on the street, their body savaged till it was barely recognizable from a peace of butcher's meat. The subtle hunger that also accompanied these imaginings gave more incentive for the young man to temper his anger as best he could, though he did given in slight to sock the occasional bastard that tried to hold him in place or otherwise grab onto him.

As he wandered the city in a vain attempt to possible reach the blacksmith for a . . . 'special project', Xander found himself grateful for his odd taste in fashion. The length of his cloak proved perfect for hiding the mark that Unotori had placed upon his arm, not wishing to possibly draw the attention of those with an interest in the rare creature that might recognizeit. Not only that, but he found the way the many tendrils that made up the tattoo not only seemed to pulse with an inner crimson light at times, but also twitch and writhe as if they were alive o be. . . unnerving, to say the least. At times, it felt as if he arm wasn't even his own anymore, but that of a devil that still held some level of control or power over the appendage. it was this unnerving feeling that had found Xander looking for the blacksmith, hoping to commision a piece gear to help in hiding it.

However, these plans were not to be, at least not yet it would seem. Like before with Unotori, Xander found himself drawn to a stange place by a strange force at work within his mind. Like before, he found it unconcerting and strange, but along with that was an indigantion and rage at whoever had dared called him all the way to this Gods forsaken dump. As he arrived, however, he found that the scenario looked a bit more interesting than he expected. To see an old man surrounded by such a rare and ominous natrelmon was sure to get anyone to at least this crazy old coot out, . . . or, well, almost anyone it seemed. Xander looked up at the young trainer making his way from the scene with a slight grin before walking right up to the old man, placing his left hand on his hip as he looked first at the yatagarasu that surrounded him, then the man himself.

"I'll have to agree with the squirt on the Frallion that my interest in getting gifted power is rather minimal. . . but at the very least, I'm willing to hear out what an interesting old cott like yourself has to say. So tell me, gramps, why are you calling a bunch of Trainers up to ya with that mystic ringtone of yours." At this point, Xander had leaned in a bit closer to the old man, his eyes narrowing as he continued with a slight growl to his words. "Because I must admit, I'm not liking having another mystic entity messing with my head to call me to parts unknown like this for god knows what. So explain yourself, kay?" He ended that with a smile that was more like he was baring his fangs at the old man before taking a slight step away to allow the mysterious figure some space. Part of him knew that he had little reason to get up in the old man's face like that, but even more of him wanted to sock this guy in the face for getting into his head like that.

At present tho, his curiosity over what the man wanted them all for wa overriding his more violent urges, so he waited to at least hear him out. If he didn't like it, the only thing he would've wasted is, hopefully, a bit of time. If the old coot tried to take anything else. . . well, Xander would be more than happy to have a target to channel his current frustrations and slow boiling anger into. A terrible thought, to be certain, but one that appealed to him all the same.

@Tuujaimaa@Innue@The 42nd Gecko
Not 100% done yet, but here's the basic layout for her. Just gotta construct the backstory and think of some quotes


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