Yankee

Gritty, Dark Pokemon RP -- A Coming of Age Story!

I'm in if you'll have me. I'm thinking... Indoctrinated cult member?
Failing that, not sure. Someone who unintentionally does harm, I think.

SPIRITUM

---

It was a beautiful day.

Not that Zak could particularly take the time to enjoy it at the moment. The first part of their trip had gone so smoothly it was almost a dream now - and by smoothly, he really meant the road. The even pavement around the Citadel was like a gods' send compared to the rougher, dirt road they now found themselves on. Still, whenever the path in front of them stretched out flat for a while and the warm breeze passed over him, the chatter of his squad mate's drifting into the cab from behind him, Zak couldn't help but think that the team roadtrip was already the best idea they'd ever had.

...aaaaand then the potholes returned. A particularly nasty one drew complaints from the passengers, and Zak couldn't blame them. He winced as the truck landed back on the dirt.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, his tone light and a grin on his face. He looked over at Galahad beside him in the cab, before leaning his head back to call an answer into the bed.

"Be happy to! If there wasn't - " the young man started, stopped by another ill placed pit in the road. Really, really poor timing on that one. The sudden bounce of the truck nearly had him biting his tongue, but he recovered quickly and continued. " - weren't holes all over the road!"

It was a single, narrow stretch of shitty highway, kind of hard to avoid anything, but hey. Zak refocused on the road ahead after a quick glance at the map. It was mostly unneeded, he could see for miles ahead in the open landscape and the road was straight for as far as the eye could see, but it was good to see how close they were getting to any semblance of civilization. He was sure all of them would appreciate a chance to stretch out, himself included.

As they continued rumbling down the path, Zak was quite content to listen to the others talk over the sound of the newscasters. Honestly, he'd gotten used to tuning out the public reports. In the barren, somewhat peaceful scrub-grass land they were passing through it would have been hard to believe there was a national conflict going on if he didn't know any better. Still, music was much preferred, and nodded in approval as Galahad found them some tunes.

The notes struck familiar with Zak and his small grin grew wider before he reached over to turn the volume up.

"Not much longer!" he said - raising his voice, chuckling and competing with the singer for the squad's attention, "then you all can get off your high horses and stop complaining!"

Pokemon: Shadows of Orre

[+]

Name:
Zita Tritafyllo

Age: 16

Appearance:
Bright eyes, gently tanned skin, and a boy-ish build match's Zita's boy-ish personality. She's on the short side, but her muscles are toned and there are very little areas on her body that could be considered "soft"... except her lush hair. Which is extremely soft. Despite chopping it, keeping it tied up, letting it get caught in bushes and more, her hair remains silky and nice to touch.

Personality:
Hot-headed, hot-blooded, and hot on the path to success - or at least, that's what she believes. Zita is an energetic girl who follows the beat of her own drum. She's stubborn, and prefers forging ahead with brute strength. Despite common belief, she does have a brain in her head, and when she finds time to use it she's capable of some truly cunning plays... but thinking things out takes too long, in her opinion. Needless to say, her way of doing things can get her into trouble - but Zita is always up for a scrap.

If she doesn't give her all at something, that's how you'll know that she's in a funk. Even in the rare event she loses in a competition, Zita isn't one to get depressed easily. Her boundless energy doesn't let her stay down for long. Still, she is only human, as much as that aggravates her. She can't do it all, and if she comes to the peak of frustration she's likely to boil over and sulk for the rest of the day.

At first Zita might come off as pushy and aggressive - and she most definitely has these qualities - but really she is just unused to the whole social thing. She doesn't beat around the bush, but even so, she could be a great friend if someone let her. Her only self-perceived weakness: she can get a bit sentimental.

History:
Zita was born in Castelia City, the largest metropolis in Unova. It's a competitive city, in a competitive region, full of competitive people - and Zita was one of them. Her family is related to a certain former champion's, so understandably they set a high standard for themselves. Being an only child, Zita inherited a lot of expectations. She wanted to live up to them, and for the most part she did. Her grades were always top of her class growing up, and she seemed to have an affinity for Pokemon - but eventually, Zita grew restless. Bored. She wanted the freedom of being a Pokemon Trainer. Her personality got more out of hand every year, until she went off alone to the nearby desert area to get a jump start on her career.

See, Zita knew she had what it took to be a successful trainer. Maybe in the future she could visit other regions, run a gym of her own, or even become a champion! ...but, she didn't look before she leaped. She got lost in the Desert Resort. Chasing after a little Darumaka is what eventually led her out of the sand swept area. Once back in more familiar territory, Zita proudly proclaimed, "you'll be my first partner!" and the Pokemon appeared to agree.

After that, Zita took things just a smidgen more seriously. She spent her days training, training, aaaaand doing more training. Her parents supported her, but also gently tried to steer her in the direction they wanted her to go. Both successful themselves, they pushed her to maybe get back into her studies. Perhaps choose a stronger starting Pokemon. Maybe look for a sponsor? All ideas Zita absolutely hated. She needed space, not books or money! ...okay, maybe some money, but definitely not a new Pokemon.

It took a few months to convince her family to let her take off to another region. Unova's league was tough, not for amateurs, so maybe Zita would have some better luck kicking off her career elsewhere. It was several more months before her parents agreed to let her go to Orre of all places - but in Zita's opinion, it was perfect. Low profile, unforgiving, and pretty similar to Bo's home habitat. Surely they'd both get stronger there. With a surprisingly heartfelt goodbye and excitement in her heart, Zita sent off for a region strange to her.

Reason for Traveling to Orre:
With the region's rugged reputation, Zita figured it would be the perfect place to "increase her power level," as it were. Her goal is to conquer the Colosseum League before returning home to Unova to eventually face down the current champion.

Starting Pokemon: Darumaka

Notes:
Having only just arrived in Orre, Zita knows nothing about Cipher, Shadow Pokemon, or the area's past.

[+]

Name:
Bo

Personality:
A happy, curious, hyper-active little fellow. However energetic Zita is, Bo is two times more. He enjoys exploring and trying new things a lot more than battling, much to his trainer's chagrin. He's very friendly too, even willing to follow orders from people other than Zita. Bo doesn't give up at anything easily, and through he and Zita's hard work he's been getting a little stronger!

History:
Zita's first Pokemon. They met in the Desert Resort when Zita was lost. Somehow, perhaps even accidentally, Bo managed to lead her back to Route 4. After their first meeting, Zita declared that Bo would become her partner, and the Pokemon didn't see any reason to decline. After all, he found this human to be really interesting! They even looked a little alike. He's been living with her ever since.

Notes:
"When he sleeps, he won't fall over no matter how much you push him!
...huh? That's normal for all Darumaka? W-well, Bo does it the best!"

Forsaken

Wow. This group was certainly something. From their smallest kobold member to the largest warforged - or, maybe that skeleton - they were all certainly... a powder keg. Yep. Though Flick had been wrong before, in fact just seconds ago if the female Genasi's reaction was anything to go by. He raised his hands in front of himself, pairing an awkward grin with his placating gesture. Thankfully the topic of their promised payment came up. Flick took the stack offered to him with a small word of thanks to the old man. He waved the papers lightly in front of him for a few moments before stashing them away on the inside of his coat. Flick glanced at all of the room's occupants again - most of them seemed all right. He knew you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover, a gnoll by it's spots or what have you, but as far as first impressions went, not the worst. A nice, thoughtful powder keg.

As soon as hot-headed genasi was out the door Flick let out a low whistle. To no one in particular he commented, "touchy one, huh?"

He stuck around to listen to the last few comments, even wanted to make a few himself, when the quiet girl pipped up. Forgetting something indeed - Garrick had tasked them with ending this whole nightmare, but there was still his specific request for closure, and two of their group seemed to have forgotten all about it. Well, made his life easier if someone else was doing the asking. Flicker leaned against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets, paying close attention to everything their surprisingly generous benefactor was saying. Unfortunately it wasn't anything he hadn't heard before. Sure, this particular tale was new to him, but there had been more than enough rumors and stories floating around Forsaken about the same thing happening to a lot of other people. Was it sad, tragic even? Of course, but as far as Flick was concerned there was nothing he could do about it other than get the hell out of town. Still, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to at least try and help at all.

Flick nodded to the girl as she hurried out of the room before standing up straight and regarding the rest of the group. "Well, you guys heard everthin' right? Take it or leave it.

Sir," the genasi motioned toward Garrick, giving the man what he hoped was a friendly gesture of goodbye. He really hoped he hadn't gotten on Abraham's bad side, but it wouldn't be the first time. "Thanks for the opportunity."

Without further ado Flicker sauntered out, finding his way downstairs to the bar area where the other three already were. So at the very least these ones were in for the job. Flick had the same idea as the human girl and gravitated toward her and the otter. Best to let the other genasi cool down a bit, or at the very least let someone else handle her.

On his way over Flick intercepted the wait staff, plucking two drinks from her hands. "A few more over there, please." With no shame or pretense, the young man slid himself into an empty seat at the table and handed off the orders to his would-be companions.

"It's been goin' on for a while," the genasi started, taking it upon himself to answer the girl's question, "I take it you haven't been in Forsaken long if you hadn't heard a similar story by now. Like Mr. Garrick said, law don't really have any leads so no one can do anythin' about it." He paused. "Unless our little rag-tag comes upon a miracle. Assumin' everyone's still in."

He leaned back in his seat, glancing over again at the other genasi before he turned back and offered the others a smile. Whether they found it charming or not was their business, not his. "Name's Flick by the way. Ignatius."

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Operation: Ground the Harpy

With his bulk, Taras wasn't the type of man that could avoid pressurized traps, so one wrong step could prove dangerous - and did, once he heard the soft and subtle shift beneath his foot of something moving that didn't belong there. In the next moment the man was hoisted up, caught in a slick net. It was fortunate there were no explosives in this trap, and instinctively Taras moved to cut himself out. He was stopped mid action by an unwelcome guest in his little space, coming face to face with the sheared visage of a man. Normally this kind of thing didn't bother him, and it didn't bother him now - but it made him pause just long enough that it might have proven lethal if not for Yonaka's quick intervention.

Even though her voice sounded a bit off as though relayed through a machine, the extremely poor attempt at mimicking his accent was more than enough to know it was Yonaka that called out. Taras was ripped from the air as something broke the cord and shattered against the tree, spawning a pretty large slab of metal. Both he and the plate hit the ground soon afterward, the gunman's bullet striking the shield. Spurred back into action, Taras cut himself free of his macabre bindings... but he didn't leave the shreds of the man behind. He took the face in one gloved hand, giving it a bit of a more thorough once over and barely suppressing a grin. Now this was art. The work of the truly deranged - or, the truly angry. He bundled the skin up and tucked it away before moving with as much speed as possible to join Yonaka behind the tank once it reached his area. The woman's Stand, or what he presumed was her Stand, was hard to miss.

"Well done," Taras spoke to the agent, "I am relieved to see you can do more than play music."

His tone wasn't sour for once, but to say it was friendly would be disingenuous. They still had some warming up to do with each other. After a moment Taras added, "Quick recovery too." His own Stand, still clinging to his back, wiggled a little bit with his words. Truth be told the Russian man was rather impressed with Ritz' abilities, but like hell he was going to admit that right now.

Quickly, he focused on the task at hand and ducked his head to relay what Yonaka likely already knew. "Single shooter. Annoying accuracy. Uncanny, even. This tank may not be able to protect us from that for long. Get us up to the fort though and this will be a one sided fight no longer." With a wry smile he patted the woman's freshly healed shoulder and flicked his gaze from her, to「Bad Case」, to the fortress. The little mechanical insect hopped off the man and scuttled quickly around the tank. With all that had suddenly happened, and Oscuro still on the move, now was the perfect time to send the Stand scouting. It was light and quick and soon enough「Bad Case」made it inside ahead of the group.

Topic of the Day/Week/Whatever

Cats have...fuckin no one.

@Fabricant451

Garfield? Felix? Hellokitty?

That being said I am team cat. I like dogs, but in a similar experience I got my arm chewed up by a large dog so tend to avoid them. Cats are less hassle and they can be just as cuddly and playful as puppies if you let them.

SPIRITUM

"Lance" Bennett

Zadkiel "Lance" Bennett
20 | 5'11'' (180cm) | O+
_{"Just Zak is fine. No, really, I insist."}

_{A P P E A R A N C E}

---

Lance had always been a skinny kid growing up, but once being initiated into WARDEN he bulked up as much as possible. His physique is something he can take pride in, so despite the nicks and scars carved into it, he keeps himself as fit as possible. In fact he's on a strict "diet:" intake, intake, intake then burn all the bad off. His clean look extends to all areas of his body and even his household, but that's another story.

As far as personal style, Lance enjoys adding little unique flairs to his WARDEN uniforms. He was never one to be ashamed about things like taste, and some of his fashion choices might clash or inspire second-hand embarrassment. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and the things that catch his eye are the ones he ends up donning himself in, no matter if it's flashy or just comfortable.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Loyalty, that's the basis of Lance's personality. He was raised believing how important it was to obey one's parents, their superiors, and their God. The thought of betraying someone's trust doesn't even cross his mind, and on the rare chance he does it the guilt eats away at him until he usually ends up confessing. Because of this, Lance makes for a good friend and is very easy to get along with. He's always willing to lend a hand, hear someone out, or join in on a fun time. Lance isn't a touchy guy in general, shrugging off casual touches, but when he grows fond of someone he can get a little clingy with checking in on them. Outside of that he's a guy that will do anything for a friend.

There are times when Lance grows intense or introspective though. He worked very hard through the years to keep up with his WARDEN training, and he never misses a day of it even through sickness. He travels to one of the Citadel's cathedrals once a week, head down and quietly talking with himself. These are routines he takes very seriously. Sometimes he struggles with his own identity, although this is a side of himself he would be mortified to let anyone else in on. When he isn't following orders and his laid back personality slips, it can lead to hesitation in his personal life as he thinks "is this something I would want to do or █████ would want to do?" Unfortunately this aspect of his personality is often considered airheadedness, but he doesn't bother to convince people that's not the case. After all, his battle prowess when all his attention is focused speaks for itself.

Lance tries not to let anything bother him, keeping strong both for himself and others, but of course that isn't always possible. He doesn't often talk about his family, and jabs about his less than stellar performance in the program upset him. Still, when he can he looks on the bright side of things. He's quick with a smile or joke, and his emotions are pretty easy to read on his face. When he's in a good mood he loves to share it, but when he's feeling down or conflicted, he deflects. His calm demeanor is a comfort to some, but really, he's been long resigned to whatever fate may come.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

---

As the middle son of the Bennett family, Zak's early childhood was... simple. The family patriarch was a proud inquisitor from a long line of inquisitors, and to say his wife was devout would be an understatement. The couple settled in the pretty fishing village of Sheldock where they purchased a large amount of land, on which they raised their four sons. The eldest son Michael was put on a high pedestal, groomed to be the next Bennett inquisitor before he could even talk. The second son Lance was sure to be scooped up by the WARDENs as soon as he was of age to be tested given his innate talent. The youngest son Laramie was coddled and doted on not only by his parents, but every man, woman, and child in the village, with a sense for magic unlike any other... and Zadkiel? The epitome of a middle child. He inherited none of the prestige of the family name, nor the attention of his father or the raw mist affinity of his mother. His brothers, all superior in one way or another, outshone him in every aspect of his life. Zak wasn't neglected or abandoned, just overshadowed. Most of his younger days were spent helping his brothers prepare for the grand lives they would surely lead, running errands for the household, trying to stand out before ultimately learning he never would, and growing content with his situation.

a distant memory

"Boys, come!" their father shouted. He waited by the back door, arm bracing it open and letting the light of the backyard seep into the house. It was early morning, and the sweet smell of spring was finding it's way through every nook and cranny of their home. The sound of feet moving about upstairs quickly made it's way down the steps, and three bright faced boys appeared. They rushed toward the open door, cheery and excited, but a sudden hand stopped one of them with a firm touch on the shoulder. Jophiel followed the other two out, and the door swung shut behind him. Zadkiel looked at the hand clutching him and his gaze followed up his mother's arms to her face. She smiled sweet and tired at him.

"Zadkiel, you know you shouldn't bother your father when he's training your brothers. Help me get lunch ready instead."

"Yes, mother," the child replied, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. He knew he shouldn't interfere, but he'd been working so hard lately... Zak watched his mother move into the family room and return with an infant on her hip. She nodded toward the kitchen and he followed her in.

"You boys are growing up fast," the woman chatted, watching over her son as he cut a stalk of celery, "you're still so thin though Zadkiel, make sure you're eating - oh, son, clean that up quick. Wash your hands again too."

Zak nodded absentmindedly as his mother went on, following her instructions as he went. He chanced a peek out of the kitchen window at his brothers. They were sat on the grass before their father. Based on the way he moved his arms and the wobble of his steps, the man was likely regaling them with stories of his time with the Order of the Dawn or giving them advice on the best way to drive off an enemy. Lance looked over and spotted Zak through the open window and waved to him, and Zadkiel waved back. His mother shut the shade.

"Focus Zadkiel."

"Yes, mother."

A few weeks after Lance's tenth birthday, he was selected to join WARDEN just as many predicted. In celebration, the boy's father let the eldest three brothers take their boat out for some quality time together before they split up - as Michael would be traveling to Fazra soon to complete his initiation into the Order. Lunches and fishing poles packed, the day was a blur of warmth and happiness. It was on their way back that tragedy struck. As dusk was settling over the water, one of the boys rocked the boat a little too hard, or shoved each other just a little too roughly, and Lance was thrown overboard. Given that the family was well accustomed to the water, the remaining brothers waited for Lance to come back up. He never did. Frantically, Michael and Zadkiel dove in to try and find him, but the waters were dark by now. It was late into the night when they gave up, unable to locate their brother. Explaining what happened to their father was most frightening thing the boys had ever done.

a haunting memory

They stood on the edge of the yard cold, wet and shaking. At sixteen, Michael was much taller than his brother beside him, but both boys felt impossibly small standing in front of their father at that moment. His face was shadowed in the dark, but his breathing was hard and it betrayed his unseen expression.

"You let my son die?" he whispered, disbelief and tempered rage tinting his tone. The boys couldn't look him in the eye, their gazes fixed on the ground and their shoulders tense. When no one spoke for several moments, Jophiel moved forward with surprising speed and seized the younger boy by his arms.

"You killed my son??" he questioned again, voice a dangerous hiss.

"N-no, I - "

"Father, it was an - an accident!" Michael said quickly. Zadkiel and Michael were never very close, but in that moment there was no one in the world Zak appreciated more than his brother, scared and quivering, hesitantly placing his hand over their father's. "Lance just - he, he fell off the boat. We..."

"We looked for him," Zak sobbed, no longer able to hold back tears in his father's bruising hold, "h-he was gone, we couldn-couldn't f-find him, I - I'm sorry, Father, I'm sorry, I'm sorry - "

The sound of his child's cries shocked Jophiel back to his senses and he released the boy, watching him crumple to the ground in tears. His oldest sniffled and covered his face with his arm. Water gathered in the man's own eyes and he rambled to himself, "no, no, no..."

He crouched down to Zadkiel's level and took the boy's face in his hands, wiping the tear stains away with his thumbs. Zadkiel looked so much like his older brother. Was Lance really gone? It couldn't be true. It turned out that Jophiel wasn't quite back to his senses yet. Lance and Zadkiel, an accident, a death, no -

Rather than admit that Lance, the WARDEN hopeful, had most likely died on his watch, Jophiel Bennett hatched a plan. No, he wouldn't face the shame and disappoint from his family and society. One of his sons had died that day, but it wasn't Lance. Of course it couldn't have been Lance, that boy had promise, he was going to be a WARDEN. It was his third son, Zadkiel, that drowned. At least, that's what he convinced his family and neighbors of. Lance and Zadkiel were close in age, they both had the same red hair and tanned skin - they might have even been confused for each other if one wasn't treated so much more handsomely than the other. The only people that knew the truth were himself and Michael, and his eldest was being shipped off to serve the Order soon anyway. The Bennett family mourned "Zadkiel" for a little while, and prepared "Lance" to be sent to the Citadel. Before the WARDENs came to collect him, Zadkiel was doubting whether he was "himself" or not...

But he wasn't Lance. He was Zak.

a lingering memory

"You're losing it," his brother growled, trapping Zak in the stone alleyway outside of the WARDEN training grounds. It wasn't often that Zak got visits from his family, even less so Michael, what with how busy he was with the Order. It was nice, sometimes. Now wasn't one of those times.

It'd been almost four years since Zadkiel assumed his late brother's name and entered the ranks of the WARDEN recruits. In a word, it'd been hell, but he stuck with it. He was doing his best. Apparently, it wasn't enough.

"You try being a WARDEN! I bet it's a lot harder than standing around Fazra waiting for - "

"Shut up," Michael snapped, holding Zadkiel's eyes with a dangerous stare. "If rumors about how much you suck reached all the way to me in Fazra, you know it's bad. What's Father going to think if he hears it too? Lance, you - "

Zadkiel's nostrils flared and his eyes flashed. He shoved Michael away from him, and the young man hit the brick wall behind him hard.

"Don't you dare," he warned, his hands curled into fists, "not you."

"...Zak," Michael corrected. He stepped back into his brother's space, his tone softer than before. "Sorry, Zak. I know it must be hard. But you have to work harder."

"..."

"...you learned some magic, right? That's awesome. You proved you can do it, now just take it farther."

Zak looked up at his older brother. After a moment he sighed and his shoulders sagged. He nodded, and when Michael reached out to ruffle his hair Zak dodged away.

"Cut it out, I'm not a kid."

"You're thirteen."

"And a HALF! And a WARDEN," Zak huffed, his face slipping into a smile. He leaned back against the alley's wall and soon enough his brother joined him there too.

"Yeah, you're our family's pride and joy," Michael stated, but they both knew that wasn't completely true.

Training to be a WARDEN was grueling, especially for the mostly talent-less Zak. Not only was he keeping on top of his martial and magical training, but the Bennett boy was also focused on maintaining a lie - that he was "Lance." Early on the suspicious drop in his abilities was explained away with tales about still grieving for his brother... which was true, in a sense. Over time it got harder and harder to make up excuses, so the only thing Zak could do was train harder and harder. He gained a reputation as a workhorse, and though he was consistently in the lowest percentile of his class, he managed to remain "WARDEN material." The most difficult thing to fudge was his aptitude for magic. It was many long days and nights before he had a breakthrough. Instead of branching out, trying to control the multitude of spells his peers could use, Zak focused his energy into refining one type of magic until he was an expert at it. This being spells related to fire. Mistburn was common for him while perfecting his techniques, and is still common to this day. It was around this time though that Zadkiel not only realized that he couldn't really be Lance, but that he didn't want to be either.

a precious memory

Zak stood silently in the small quarters, posture straight and hands clasped behind his back. He focused only on the sound of shuffling papers. His eyes were focused there too, and it wasn't a joke when the aged man at the desk laughed and said, "son, you're burning a hole in my paperwork."

"Oh, sorry," Zak said. He snapped his eyes shut instead of simply looking away and the man laughed again. He shook the tiny embers off the forms he was holding before setting them down and rising out of his seat. The elder WARDEN was a head shorter than Zak, gray haired and stocky, with a scar running down the length of his face - but it didn't stop him from looking friendly. Instructor Geraint was Zadkiel's favorite superior, so it only made sense to confess the lie to him first... but, now that'd he'd done it, Zak stood by confused as the man didn't seem to care at all.

Geraint approached and stopped just in front of Zadkiel. The young man was two years from graduation, and he'd dropped a relative bombshell. However -

"Zadka- Zad, was it?"

"Zak."

"Zak," Geraint rumbled, and the sound of his name being called after all this time brought an unfamiliar warmth to Zak's chest. "To be honest Zak, I don't see what you're so worried about."

Zadkiel opened his eyes, his puzzled expression meeting his instructor's pleasant one.

"I lied to the WARDENs, to you, to - to everyone."

"...and?"

Zak narrowed his eyes, glancing around the room slightly. At this point, to say he was confused was an understatement.

"...and... lying is bad...? You trained the wrong guy all this time."

Geraint sighed and put a comforting hand on Zak's shoulder. "Son, we didn't train the wrong man. If you weren't cut out for WARDEN, we would have dropped you a long time ago. In the last few years your test scores have improved, your control over the mist has gotten so much better, and hey - I've personally seen to it that your strength is at the top of your class!

What I'm saying is, you're a WARDEN. You, Zak Bennett. ...Er, Bennett is still your last name, right?"

Zak fought off the urge to tear up at the man's words, and he barked out a laugh at the question. "Yeah, still a Bennett," he chuckled. After a few moments to process the instructor's words, Zak awkwardly shoved his hand forward for a shake.

"...thank you, sir. I mean it."

With a smile, Geraint took it.

After confiding in some of his trusted superiors, Zadkiel was ready to be expelled and become the single stain on the Bennett family name. It was a surprise that they kept everything hushed and let Zak remain in WARDEN. For all intents and purpose, he remained "Lance," but he'd managed to convince some people to call him by his real name by telling them that "Zak" was a middle name he preferred to go by. As graduation got closer, Zak started to express himself more, trying to get more people to call him by his "middle name." To his relief the people he got along with best didn't mind calling him by his new nickname one bit. Most didn't even realize there had ever been four Bennett brothers, fooling themselves into believing there had only ever been Zadkiel Lance Bennett - or rather, Lance Zadkiel Bennett. For everyone besides his immediate family, Zak and Lance were the same person: a WARDEN who worked his ass off, always followed orders, and was really good at fire magic.

After graduating, Zak planned to come clean about everything and get his WARDEN records changed to his real name, so that he'd at least be able to die as his own man. One last hurrah with his closest classmates to find out just who that man actually was seemed to be a great idea, and with no hesitation for once he called driver - or at least shotgun.

_{C O M B A T}

---

Lance relies on his raw strength the most, having honed his body since induction into WARDEN for the specific task of using it as a human-spear to drive wedges between enemy formations. He does his best work on the front lines in direct combat with the enemy. Trained with both pistols and rifles, Lance keeps firearms on his person, but he prefers bladed weapons like swords and pikes not only because he is just better at handling them, but because the sight of a man felling dozens of foes with a sword often inspires fear (or at the very least, second guesses) in the ranks of opposing forces. One particular weapon he's come to like very much is something called a gunlance: a long blade capable of shelling from it's tip, sometimes paired with a small shield. It's a little heavy, but extremely effective - and yes, he's aware of the name thing. Ha ha, Lance using a lance.

Over his WARDEN uniform, he wears a light armor once meant for his brother, modeled after the likes of the Order of the Dawn's inquisitors but bearing the Bennett family crest. It's imbued with blessings, and it isn't hard to move around in. It gives him a little more protection when he's out on the frontlines. At one point he hated the armor, but after several cuts and scratches and a friendly paint job, he came to really like it.

Magic was never Lance's strong suite, but after years of refining his craft he'd become an adept caster of fire magic. Because his affinity is low and he often suffers from mistburn, he always keeps a stock of burn-relieving drugs on his person. Lance's control over fire is so complete that he can even change it's color or choose not to burn people with it so long as he stays focused. His "signature" spell is the halo of flames, a ring of fire summoned above or around him that flings deadly embers outward from it.

_{N O T E S}

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• Father: Jophiel Bennett (58)
  
  • Retired from service as a Dawn Inquisitor after suffering a leg injury. Very concerned with family image.
• Mother: Miranda Bennett (44)
  
  • Married young and never looked back. Spends half of her day in prayer and the other half looking after the home.
• Older Brother: Michael Bennett (27)
  
  • A talented inquisitor like his father, and his father before him, and so on. Strained relationship with family.
• Older Brother: Lance Bennett
  
  • Allegedly drowned when he was 10 years old. Would be 21 now.
• Younger Brother: Laramie Bennett (14)
  
  • Gifted youth in his fourth year of WARDEN training. On track to graduate as a Second Class WARDEN and mage.

_{B A R G H E S T - S Q U A D}

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• Galahad
  • "Didn't like him much at first to be honest. When we got put in the same squad I figured they were pairing a genius like him with an idiot like me to make the team balanced, so you can see why I wasn't really thrilled to be working with him... but after getting to know him, Galahad isn't a bad guy at all. He gets the whole group motivated in his own way and he doesn't mind giving advice - just try not to take offense at the way he gives it."
• Asa
  • "We met a few years ago at a party when she kicked me in the dick after I tried hitting on her. Really hurt, but I don't regret it 'cause we've been good friends ever since. She's upbeat and fun to hang out with - plus she gets all kinds of cool stuff from her gramps. I could stay up talking with her all night."
• Samdihier
  • "Love this guy! He seems like he's got his own things going on, but no matter what he keeps his smile on. He's a good influence on everyone, including me. If someone's feeling bad he'll cheer them right up. I think he pushes people to do their best just by believing in them. Always a good time with him around."
• Sorin
  • "Not that talkative, but when she comes out of her shell she's pretty funny. When I see how hard she works, it makes me want to work harder too. After a few months she actually let me jog with her in the mornings. She's smart and reliable, a great person to have at your back, plus look at these!" (He holds up a pair of orange mittens)
• Ray
  • "You couldn't know a better man than Ray. It's really funny, whenever he kicks my ass in judo training he always apologizes after helping me up. Like, every time. He looks after people, he's like a... a papa bear. I'm not really a 'hug' guy but for Ray I'll make an exception. He's so thoughtful it even extends to his fighting style. Shields and stuff. I know, right?"
• Betelgeuse
  • "A wild one for sure. For a while I didn't think she'd come around but now she's just a normal part of the group. Though she can still be pretty standoffish. She shows she cares in her own ways, just have to know how to see them... I think. Pretty sure. If giving you extra bruises during spars count."

Pokemon: Shadows of Orre

Still here! Had a busy few days but I'll be writing a CS soon. I've had a hot headed girl idea forming for a while which might compliment Ampharos' character well.

World of Light

Word Count: 347 (+1 exp)
Level: 4 - Total EXP: 23/40
Location: Guild Hall, Lumbridge, Land of Adventure

"Hey hey hey hey," Cadet started, thumping Bowser on the shell to get the big guy's attention. Cadet was sympathetic to the poor guildmarm's eardrums and nerve. Needless to say he cared about the woman very much, his feelings deeper than just the camaraderie of being from the same "world" among this multiversal super mix-up. "I know it's probably your default volume, but there's no need to yell pal, she's got it for us!" The hunter gave the guildmarm an apologetic smile, which was quickly replaced with an expectant sparkle in his eye when she located the G-ranked quest... or, the box that held it anyway. She'd listed off the rewards for the previous quest too, but Cadet was already looking forward to the next one. Still, poor dude was zenniless, and rupees could go a long way in Lumbridge. Then again -

"How do you guys split rewards?" he asked of Kamek, figuring he might have more answers than the Koopa King. "There's like, what, twelve of you guys? Of us I mean, I'm definitely in for the whole saving the world long haul thing."

A little bit away and over the chatter, Cadet heard the sound of his name and looked over to see a familiar face in the Courier, with some not-so-familiar faces. Was that a giant bug? And... what the heck was that on the lil robot lady's arm? Oh well, they had to be friends right? Cadet raised and arm and waved them all over when another new friend made his way over. He was small, animated, and pretty curious about everything. Cadet was more than happy to talk about something he actually had experience with.

"It's a hall for the guild! Duh! This guild is for adventurers, you can hang out and get advice or take jobs here," the hunter informed with a smile, "and the next job's in that box!"

It wasn't but a moment later that the cute cartoon tackled the lock on the little chest, and Cadet stood nearby with bright eyes eagerly awaiting the top to pop open.

Call of Cthulhu - Day of the Beast - Chapter One: "Suffer Little Children"

Hi~ here's my dice thread, only preliminary rolls for now, working things out over time. ONL, you mentioned in the check you may change up the CS a bit, so I'll be keeping an eye out for that too.