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Charles regarderait Aviva de loin à travers une boule de cristal alors qu'il sirotait sur un verre comme il regarderait une sorte de t.v. Le spectacle. Au fur et à mesure qu'Aviva marchait, après quelques minutes, il entendait le bruissement dans les buissons devant lui, alors qu'un lapin sautait tout de suite. Le lapin serait beaucoup plus grand que le lapin moyen et aurait une corne qui sortait de sa tête. Il pâturait à l'herbe pendant quelques secondes avant de remarquer Aviva qui alors il se positionnerait lui-même en direction de lui avant de se lancer soudainement avec sa corne pointée sur lui.

Name: Master Charles Kilin Age: unkown Talent: unknown Grimoire Appearance: Unknown Personality: One can hardly tell what this master is thinking, one moment he could seem kind but next minute you are in Spartan training to the edge of death but not being allowed to cross it. History: Unknown Other:

Aviva a entendu le bruissement devant lui. Il s'est immédiatement mis en défense alors qu'il se concentrait dans la direction des buissons qui se cramponnaient devant lui. Il semblait transporter son corps très élégamment alors qu'il se déplaçait à trois pieds en arrière et à quelques pieds à sa gauche pour s'éloigner un peu plus de la créature. Un lapin géant venait des arbustes car il était environ deux ou trois fois plus gros qu'un lapin commun. La corne sur la tête est complètement coincée. Créer l'ambiance de danger et d'agression. Aviva a eu l'intuition que ce lapin n'allait pas être un mignon câlin. Comme il pâturait sur l'herbe Aviva recula quelques pieds de plus. Avant qu'un bâton ne croque sous son poids. ...CRACK!...il a fait écho dans la forêt. Il murmura alors que la créature de lapin se tournait vers Aviva. Il s'est ensuite lancé pointant la corne à droite à Aviva. Aviva s'en est pris à la créature et s'est moqué d'un pied devant lui. Aviva a sauté de la façon d'effrayer la bête pour semer la confusion car elle pensait qu'elle allait avoir un impact. Il a ensuite commencé à courir dans la forêt. Sautant sur les buissons, le lapin est venu. Aviva n'allait pas gâcher les choses surtout quand il s'agissait de bizarres. Il courait dans la forêt de la même façon qu'avant. "Damn... ces créatures sont bizarres." Aviva a dit de regarder en arrière. Savoir que le lapin le rattraperait sans doute s'il n'était pas confondu et qu'il suivait son parfum. Bien qu'il n'ait pas vu le lapin en ce moment.

Name Aviva Dira Nefili Age 16 Appearance Aviva stands at a height of 6'1''. . . A strong build with skinny muscles. He is pretty strong though in a normal sense of speaking. He has darker skin for he is from Middle Eastern Heritage. His eye's black sometimes very dark brown seeming to some. His eyes are very gentle and mysterious. As they reflect everything he looks at. Dark brown hair that curls widely. Talent Nature , Light, Healing First Spells Nature Causing a seed to sprout 'S'sarg' Light - Being able to focus sun rays in a certain spot (To cause fires or an object to heat up) 'Yar di" Healing - Healing small wounds / not letting them get infected 'Ht' L eah' Personality Aviva is a very laid-back gentle guy at first appearance might come off quiet and approachable. He is a very approachable character indeed. He always has a smile across his face and he tries to respect others as much as he can. Once in comfortable positions with you he will show a more humour toned attitude and maybe talking a little more. He is very kind hearted and a fragile speaker. But....don'to't let the kindness fool you. Aviva can have a temper if in the right situation. Usually not having a temper unless somebody is hurting somebody else. He can also be very pushing away not wanting people to get to close to him. He is usually a good collected person with himself and others. Very outgoing as well. History Aviva grew up in an extremely dysfunctional household which didn't help they had money problems. A stay at home mother that cleaned the whole house from top to bottom each day, made all meals, made dessert, and even did the yard work till Aviva was old enough to help her round the house especially the yard and fixing up the house. Aviva's father was very rude, disrespectful and was the one to raise his hand to a child or a woman any time he was upset, wrong, or not in the right. He tried to talk his mother out of leaving running away from the abusive man that locked them into a life they didn't deserve. His mother always rejected for fear she would be found and sent back to him if she tried running away. From age 14 to now, Aviva has been stealing a little extra cash every time he was able to get to his father's wallet. He was preparing to run away forever and start a new life without or with his mother. He wanted her to come though she wouldn't and he knew that. At least she never told on him for stealing she always protected Aviva till he got to the age of 15 when he wouldn't let her any more. The night he ran away and found the shop where a new interesting life began was the night him and his father got into the worst fight of his life.Bruises, screaming and things breaking. At least it wasn't bones. Aviva's mother was crying while the whole thing happened. Aviva's father slammed him against the door, and they tumbled out side. Aviva got away from his father then ran out into the dark. It was raining and by the time he was intact with the shop he was soaking wet and horrible looking. It was the only shop that had an opened sign at the time he was around so he entered and there it began.

Grâce à l'attention d'Aviva étant derrière lui, il ne remarquerait pas une branche d'arbre pendaison basse devant lui, ce qui le faisait être des vêtements doublés de lui frappant carrément dans la poitrine, c'était presque comme si quelque chose mettait la force dans la branche pour s'assurer qu'il était abattu. S'il pâturait à l'arbre, il ne verrait au début rien de mal, mais ne prendrait pas longtemps à remarquer un petit visage sur l'arbre avec un long nez, deux yeux s'ouvrant et le regardant vers le bas. Tout à coup, les branches se lançant sur lui pour attaquer, il s'était éloigné du « renifle » et dans l'arbre. Avant que l'arbre puisse obtenir de fermer le lapin corné d'avant viendrait naviguer sur Aviva et claquer dans l'arbre, ce qui fait l'arbre de libérer un grincement très horrible et déchirant de l'oreille avant qu'il ne boite tout d'un coup. Quand le lapin se libère un tout serait dans la face de l'arbre. Le lapin allait se tourner vers Aviva avant de se préparer à se lancer à nouveau sur lui, semblait comme si il ne voulait rien d'autre pour obtenir son repas.

Name: Master Charles Kilin Age: unkown Talent: unknown Grimoire Appearance: Unknown Personality: One can hardly tell what this master is thinking, one moment he could seem kind but next minute you are in Spartan training to the edge of death but not being allowed to cross it. History: Unknown Other:

Aviva sentit la puissance puissante dans sa poitrine alors qu'il regardait vers le bas voir la branche basse avant qu'il se soit lancé roulant son corps et couché là. Il toussait et la poussière et les particules de la forêt étaient dans l'air. Montrant dans les parties de la lumière du soleil, cette crevette à travers les feuilles. Sa poitrine a souffert alors que son corps a commencé à réaliser le traumatisme qu'il a subi. Il sifflait comme ses dents serrées. Une légère obscurité grandit dans ses yeux. Le ressentiment peut-être? Sentiment d'un autre, trahison? Les années d'abus et il finit par être abusé par des créatures magiques à cause de ce gars. Aviva a commencé à ressentir une colère et une déconnexion du Maître Magique. Il a commencé à ressentir un petit peu de haine sans le savoir. Tournant sur son côté gauche, il regarda en haut et vit l'arbre qui venait vers lui. Cela lui rappelait un Ent dans les livres d'histoires qu'il lisait. En quelques secondes cette belle image de la créature s'est effondrée tandis que le lapin corné s'est écrasé dans l'écorce en ayant une croûte craquelante jusqu'à ce que l'oreille d'Ent arrache des griffes de douleur au-dessus de lui en volume. Aviva a couvert ses oreilles alors qu'il se tenait debout à la recherche de sa lame. Aviva entendit un autre coup de croûte et de l'écorce tandis que le lapin commença à se libérer il se déplaçait et cherchait la lame, à la recherche de la lueur éclatante de ce soutien de vie. En entendant le stomp sur le sol, il savait que le lapin était libre et Aviva regarda par-dessus son épaule. Vous n'abandonnez pas.Aviva a parlé au lapin alors qu'il s'approchait de quelque chose. Il a remarqué quelque chose qui était à environ douze mètres de lui. Il a vu une petite lueur mais, il ne sait pas si c'est le couteau ou non. Ce qui, il l'espère, ou bien il sera gravement blessé ou probablement mort. Qu'il a vraiment commencé à cesser de se soucier de plus en plus... tandis que le temps passait ce sentiment a lentement grandi.

Name Aviva Dira Nefili Age 16 Appearance Aviva stands at a height of 6'1''. . . A strong build with skinny muscles. He is pretty strong though in a normal sense of speaking. He has darker skin for he is from Middle Eastern Heritage. His eye's black sometimes very dark brown seeming to some. His eyes are very gentle and mysterious. As they reflect everything he looks at. Dark brown hair that curls widely. Talent Nature , Light, Healing First Spells Nature Causing a seed to sprout 'S'sarg' Light - Being able to focus sun rays in a certain spot (To cause fires or an object to heat up) 'Yar di" Healing - Healing small wounds / not letting them get infected 'Ht' L eah' Personality Aviva is a very laid-back gentle guy at first appearance might come off quiet and approachable. He is a very approachable character indeed. He always has a smile across his face and he tries to respect others as much as he can. Once in comfortable positions with you he will show a more humour toned attitude and maybe talking a little more. He is very kind hearted and a fragile speaker. But....don'to't let the kindness fool you. Aviva can have a temper if in the right situation. Usually not having a temper unless somebody is hurting somebody else. He can also be very pushing away not wanting people to get to close to him. He is usually a good collected person with himself and others. Very outgoing as well. History Aviva grew up in an extremely dysfunctional household which didn't help they had money problems. A stay at home mother that cleaned the whole house from top to bottom each day, made all meals, made dessert, and even did the yard work till Aviva was old enough to help her round the house especially the yard and fixing up the house. Aviva's father was very rude, disrespectful and was the one to raise his hand to a child or a woman any time he was upset, wrong, or not in the right. He tried to talk his mother out of leaving running away from the abusive man that locked them into a life they didn't deserve. His mother always rejected for fear she would be found and sent back to him if she tried running away. From age 14 to now, Aviva has been stealing a little extra cash every time he was able to get to his father's wallet. He was preparing to run away forever and start a new life without or with his mother. He wanted her to come though she wouldn't and he knew that. At least she never told on him for stealing she always protected Aviva till he got to the age of 15 when he wouldn't let her any more. The night he ran away and found the shop where a new interesting life began was the night him and his father got into the worst fight of his life.Bruises, screaming and things breaking. At least it wasn't bones. Aviva's mother was crying while the whole thing happened. Aviva's father slammed him against the door, and they tumbled out side. Aviva got away from his father then ran out into the dark. It was raining and by the time he was intact with the shop he was soaking wet and horrible looking. It was the only shop that had an opened sign at the time he was around so he entered and there it began.

alors que le lapin s'approchait d'Aviva, quelque chose sautait des buissons et frappait la tête du lapin corné. Une créature humanoïde, plus petite que lui, avec une peau vert vif, des oreilles pointues et des traits légèrement laids sur tout. C'était assez brouillé avec ses bras et ses jambes minces, à peine n'importe quelle viande sur ses os. une corne d'un lapin corné dans sa main, portant seulement un chiffon de lion. La créature n'était pas autre qu'un goblin. Il regardait Aviva avant de siffler et soudainement décoller avec le lapin qui vient de devenir le repas.

Name: Master Charles Kilin Age: unkown Talent: unknown Grimoire Appearance: Unknown Personality: One can hardly tell what this master is thinking, one moment he could seem kind but next minute you are in Spartan training to the edge of death but not being allowed to cross it. History: Unknown Other:

12 septembre 2015 - 16:27 HAE Quelque part en Afrique de l'Est La mission était assez directe; allez-y, tuez les insurgés dans la région en donnant des problèmes au gouvernement local, "détruisez" la région avec la rapidité. Rien d'extraordinaire. Tyler regarda à travers la fenêtre du MRAP et regarda la grande ville au loin, une combinaison de maçonnerie primitive et d'acier moderne. Au-delà de cela, pour autant qu'un homme puisse voir, n'était rien d'autre qu'un désert aride avec des restes de jungle ici et là. Selon les voyous du renseignement, le campement ennemi est à environ 1,5 heure de leur position actuelle. "Ça va être long, messieurs...", pensait Tyler. "Bonne chose que ces MRAP aient la climatisation." En regardant vers sa gauche, il regarda son chauffeur, PFC Velasquez. Le gamin avait l'air plutôt nerveux. "Ça aide à respirer, tu sais...", dit Tyler. Velasquez a donné un regard plutôt maudit. "Qu'est-ce que ça veut dire, sergent", a-t-il demandé. « Tout d'abord, nous ne sommes pas en garnison; appelez-moi Tyler. Deuxièmement, votre trop stress et rien n'est encore arrivé. Lentement, régulièrement, respire, comme à la portée." Velasquez a été calme pendant quelques secondes et a commencé à respirer comme un professeur de yoga novice. "Comme ça?" Tyler ne s'attendait pas à donner des commentaires sur la respiration et a donné un regard confus. "Bien sûr", a-t-il dit à moitié. Velasquez n'a pas détecté de sarcasme sur la voix de Tyler et a dit, "Merci, Ser... Tyler." Ça a apporté un sourire au visage de Tyler. 26 minutes plus tard - 16h53 HAE Le contact a été établi, mais pas comme ils s'y attendaient. -- Alors, qu'est-ce qu'on fait...? Velasquez a regardé Tyler. "Je suppose qu'on lui parle... ou qu'on essaie de le faire, de toute façon", a dit Tyler un peu obsédé. "Tu restes ici et tu gardes la radio pour alerter le reste du convoi au cas où quelque chose ne marcherait pas." Velasquez a fait signe. Tyler est sorti du véhicule et a donné un signal à la main qui signifiait « yeux ouverts » au véhicule derrière eux. L'homme se tenait debout dans le centre de la route et à une vingtaine de pas du MRAP. "Hé!", a crié Tyler. "(en swahili brisé) indiquez votre intention!" Il était à une dizaine de pas, s'approchant lentement et prudemment. Il a remarqué qu'une odeur émanait de l'étranger, une odeur qui était plus forte que l'odeur typique de mauvaise hygiène des habitants. Il sentait... comme... "mort. Ce pauvre con est mort." Il avait l'air d'être mort depuis environ un jour ou deux. Son visage et son corps présentaient des signes d'émaciation. Comment il était « debout » était simplement en étant retenu par deux poteaux tenant son corps vers le haut. Le détail le plus important, cependant, était à ses pieds; l'extrémité d'une coque HE a été légèrement exposée hors de la terre. "Oh, SHIT!!!" Tyler s'est retourné à Velasquez, assis sur le véhicule principal. "Retournez! Va te faire voir. Une lumière aveuglante et un souffle assourdissant... 5 février 2020 - 1:25 PM PST Train CALMagLev 113, ligne LA-NC Tyler s'est réveillé avec une bouffée. Il a été dans un sacré état pendant quelques instants. Il a jeté un coup d'œil, il n'était plus en Afrique, il n'était plus dans les Marines, et il n'était pas mourant. Il a regardé sa montre. Il était 13h25. "Encore cinq minutes", pensait Tyler. Il est retombé dans son siège et a commencé à respirer très lentement. "Rappelez-vous Tyler, les gens calmes vivent, les gens tendus meurent..." 5 minutes plus tard - 13h30 PST Station Fujiyama-Anderson, ville de nuit, CA Le train ralentit et finit par s'arrêter complètement. Le jingle d'arrivée jouait bien des haut-parleurs grungy. "Vous êtes arrivé à Fujiyama-Anderson Station, Night City. L'heure locale est 1330, heure normale du Pacifique. Prochain arrêt, station d'Embarcadero, San Francisco, départ à 13 h 35, heure normale du Pacifique. Merci d'avoir chevauché CALMagLevTM et passez une bonne journée! » Une voix automatisée plus désinvolte n'aurait pu exister nulle part dans le monde. Cependant, c'était le coût de la vie de nos jours; pour n'avoir plus de vie en vous. La station était abrutie avec cette "vie" ; les sans-abri urbains, certains avec des panneaux en carton, certains membres manquants ; battre les flics, prêts à répondre à un moment donné ; les yuppies corporatives de toutes les courses avec rien que de l'argent dans l'esprit. Au milieu de tout cela, Tyler se tenait, essayant de se rappeler de quelle façon était le centre de congrès. "6 ou 7 pâtés de maisons... au sud, je crois. Oui, au sud." C'est assez loin en termes de marche surtout dans les rues de Night City. Tyler n'était plus sur le terrain et le terrain n'est plus aussi sûr non plus. Le fait d'être policier signifiait qu'il était capable de se protéger sans conséquence, mais il ne pouvait pas demander de renfort parce qu'il ne connaissait personne à la NCPD. "Et bien, nous y voilà... Ce nouveau robot vaut mieux que ça en vaut la peine... »

Name: Tyler Skye Pierce Occupation: LAPD Vice Detective Age: 25, born April 13th, 1994 Birthplace: Los Angeles, CA Ethnicity: Caucasian Nationality: American Style: Clothes – Euro-Modern (Long overcoats, button-ups, slacks, and scarves are common place; typically sharp dressed) Hairstyle – Slick-back with shaved sides, Natural Black Affections – Kanji tattoo of the word “Valor” (“義気”) on right forearm; many blast and surgery scars, predominantly on left side of body. Family Background: Mother: Desiree Amanda Guerrero – Deceased Father: UNKNOWN (only known as “Pierce”; unclear whether first name or surname) – UNKNOWN (Presumed deceased) Middle Brother: Lucas Scott Pierce (age: 12) – Living; in foster care Youngest Brother: Logan Cash Pierce (age: 9) – Living; in foster care Motivations: Traits – Laconic, stoic, described as “cold” and “dead inside”, and will become violent if provoked Valued Person – His Brothers Value Most – Honesty Feelings toward People – Every person is a valuable individual. Valued Possession – A photograph of his mother and father together, with “I am sorry, but this is goodbye. I love you. –Pierce XOXO” written on the back. Life Events: Age 17 – Found a Sensei (Ashitaka Isamu, born August 21st, 1957 – 10th Dan Jūdōka). High School Student Age 18 – Made enemies with a low ranking for corporate exec for causing him great humiliation and significant damage to his reputation. Joined the United States Marine Corps. Age 19 – Made enemies with a superior officer who was exploiting men in her unit for her own personal gain. Brought it up higher and exposed her. Had a personal vendetta against Tyler. Marine Infantry. Age 20 – Nothing notable happened this year. Age 21 – Made enemies with his uncle (Travis Guerrero, born November 22nd, 1979) after a confrontation on leave. Whilst in a drunken stupor, instigated that Tyler was the cause of his mother’s death. Things escalated and ended on bad terms. Returns from leave and deployed to a combat zone. Involved in a massive explosion; massive internal damage, loss of left eye, left arm (at the forearm), and left leg (at the thigh). Clinically dead for one minute, thirty-nine seconds (a very long time to be, well… dead). Resuscitated and rebuilt. Marine Infantry. Age 22 – Honorable discharge from United States Marine Corps (as a sergeant). Rekindled relationship with an old high school sweetheart (Macy Dailey, born March 7th, 1995). Nothing romantic… yet. Joined the Los Angeles Police Department as a police sergeant due to prior military service. Age 23 – Made a friend and a mentor in the police force, Detective Jacob Gale. Age 24 – Reconciled friendship with uncle. Promoted to detective meritoriously. Age 25 – Made friends with a new recruit, fresh from the police academy, Officer Franklyn Nakamura. Weapons: Colt AMT Model 2000 Sternmeyer Stakeout 10 Monosharpened KA-BAR Fighting Knife (a holdover from the USMC) 15" Retractable Police Baton Brass Knuckle Duster (a personal item) Skills: Pistol Marksmanship Rifle Marksmanship Interrogation/coercion Streetwise Awareness/notice Martial Art – Judo Weight Training Pain Conditioning Augmentations: Cyber Eye, Left – Telescopic Lens, Micro-optics, Infrared, Targeting Scope Cyber Arm, Left – Superchrome® finish, tool hand Cyber Leg, Left – RealSkinnTM finish, hidden holster (for Colt AMT) Equipment: On any given patrol, Tyler will have all five of his weapons either on his person or in his patrol vehicle. The two firearms are always fully loaded with one extra magazine apiece to spare and an additional five magazines apiece in the squad car’s trunk. In terms of armor, a Kevlar T-shirt worn as an undershirt with a heavy Kevlar laced jacket.

Un homme se tenait au-dessus de son cadre minuscule, une froncement de jugement ridiculisant ses traits. "Regardez Ise, vous devez vous calmer sur la technologie. Vous devez débrancher un peu. Prends une bière. Pousse un tab et danse avec les humains de la vraie vie. Sentez la basse contre votre poitrine. Oui?" Une fronce a pressé ses lèvres et elle a soupiré, brouillant ses traits de jeunesse dans le plastique du banc «chirurgical» qu'elle a été posée à travers. Elle en avait vraiment marre de cette conversation. C'était la deuxième fois ce soir. Il ne s'en souciait pas vraiment, comme l'indiquait clairement l'os de la scie qui se dirigeait vers un début en arrière-plan. "J'ai besoin de ça. La vie n'est pas... » Le redémarrage neuronal qu'il avait commencé il y a un moment vient d'entrer et elle était sortie. L'homme qui a commencé à la couper a pris un moment pour se demander comment elle a pu avoir fini cela. La vie n'est pas quoi? - heures et une opération plus tard... Elle était tout à fait fonctionnelle, trop fonctionnelle, un scoop régulier dans le monde de la crème glacée horning. Tu sais ce que la vie n'était pas? Il ne se concentrait pas sur ce que la vie n'était pas. Elle en était aussi sûre maintenant qu'elle l'avait sentie plus tôt. Elle s'est emparée sur le côté du mur pendant un moment. "Reste plus longtemps Ise. Vos câbles ne cliquent toujours pas." La voix venait de l'arrière. Il nettoyait ses outils là-bas. Elle a clignoté quelques fois et s'est serré le bout des doigts dans un poing, s'est relâchée, a répété. Elle a jeté ses jambes en jean sur le côté et des bottes de combat ont tenu son poids sur le sol. "Je vais bien." Elle a creusé dans une poche latérale, des doigts confortables trouvant la fumée rouge étourdissante et la mettant entre ses lèvres. Elle s'est cassée contre le côté de son pouce gauche et une flamme a été émise, un tour de nouveauté poseur vraiment comme le silex comme substance ne durerait que peu de temps, mais il a fait le tour. "Regarde, je devrais y aller." Elle a pressé la cigarette entre ses lèvres déjà pleines fonctionnelles. Elle a testé ses orteils. Elle semblait en ordre. "Tu détestes mon quartier, j'ai compris." Le grand homme feignait une fronce, mais ça ne lui convenait pas. "N'agissez pas offensé. Ton quartier est un trou à rats." Elle ne l'avait même pas regardé. Elle parlait à travers une cigarette et testait ses connexions neurales. Dans moins d'une tête de banger, elle sortait de la porte d'entrée de son magasin, testant les petites voies neurales qu'elle accédait automatiquement sans prêter beaucoup d'attention au monde réel, mauvais appel à Night City. Mais certaines filles ne sont pas malchanceuses, et cette fille est entrée directement dans un flic hors service. Elle l'a regardé sans réfléchir. Son œil droit était un bourdonnement avec des nanochirurgiens invisibles épuisant leurs efforts sur un œil manifestement auto-guérison, de sorte qu'il a vu la rétine revenir à une forme circulaire et la couleur des yeux se stabiliser. La cigarette s'est effondrée de la bouche, ses yeux suivaient alors qu'elle s'inclinait la tête pour protéger ses yeux. "Je... Excuse-moi."

Name:Isabella Hägg‏ Occupation:Net Cowgirl; Freelance Age, Date of Birth:26; December 2nd, 1993 Birthplace:Stockholm, Sweden Ethnicity/Nationality:Swedish Style: Clothes – Kevlar armor jacket in black, loose fitting tank tops. Tight pants and combat boots. Aviator sunglasses. Hairstyle – Waist length braids and dreadlocks with organic circuitry woven in. Her natural pale blonde hair predominant over a few thin red, blue, green and yellow cables. Affections – Large tattoo of a Balron demon that crosses her back, curling around her right hip up to her left shoulder; a nod to Rache Bartmoss. Barcode tattooed across her right shoulder in homage to transhumanism. Multiple metal piercings laced through her ears. Family Background: Lucas Hägg, ‏Brother - Fixer, used to sell information for Ise. Missing for almost 5 years, presumed dead. Father - Deceased. Mother - Deceased. Extended Family - Unassociated Motivations: Traits – imaginative, hallucinatory, intellectual, detached, she just wants to watch the world burn Valued Person – Lucas Hägg‏, Missing/Dead. Value Most – Knowledge and Vengeance Feelings Toward People – Neutral Valued Possession – Metal and wood necklace containing a datachip with pictures of her family Born- Exceedingly pro-cybernetic parents. Father a Corporate Executive; Mother is a Professor. Both children are introduced to cybertech early on. Age 2- Mother dies Age 3- Father starts teaching her programming and lays the foundation for all future knowledge. Age 6- Becomes fascinated with RF signals and starts manipulating equipment. Age 9- Starts to get comfortable with the net. Age 15- Starts pushing the limits on the Net, outgrown the usefulness of school. Age 16- Father murdered, she believes by a corporation and this shapes her driving motivation. Her brother and her begin working as a team to steal and sell secrets and information. Age 17- Goes into Corporate Training. Age 19- Gets involved in corporate espionage. Brother disapproves and they fight for the first time. She convinces him to continue helping her sell information. Age 22- Final argument with brother. He disappears and no one has seen him since. Age 23- Realizes that she is in too deep. She suspects the Corporation may have killed her brother. She disappears, spending a large sum of money to hire help to “ghost” herself. Stows away and arrives in America. Meets up with contacts from the Net who help get her on her feet. Age 26- Still picking up random jobs; mainly for anti-corporate fighters, but not against working for some corporate ladder climbers to make a buck. Weapons: Budget Arms C - 13 Vz61 Skorpion - shoulder holster Switchblade Skills: Interface; ability to manipulate interface programs Education; electrophysiology and neural network emulation System knowledge; knowledge of the Net Programming; write programs and re-program computer systems Hide, evade; losing pursuers, covering tracks, evading people on your trail. Electronics; maintaining, repairing and modifying electronic instruments Electronic security; installing/countering Cyber tech; repairing and maintaining cyberware Augmentations: Neuralware Processor Cybermodem Cybermodem Link; translates net images Interface Plugs : back of scalp. stud directly into machines Kerenzikov Boosterware; boosts her response time DataTerm Link; can access DataTerm information on the go Nanosurgeons Interface plugs in scalp Implanted Fangs w/ poison injectors Equipment: Modified Portable Cyberdeck Cybermodem Security Scanner Tech Scanner Tech Tool Kit Electronics kit Collection of Chips; chips boost skills Ammo

Plusieurs jours avant... Le groupe de gangsters se cachait dans une ruelle, secouant et regardant anxieusement, attendant évidemment quelqu'un ou quelque chose. Deux d'entre eux ont parlé sans cesse, en discutant de Blue Wurm, la nouvelle drogue récemment introduite dans les rues. Au fur et à mesure qu'ils continuaient à parler de ça par rapport à d'autres drogues, le troisième les enfermait. Il était le chef et, alors qu'ils étaient tous un peu dangereux dans leur propre partie, il était une coupe au-dessus. Alors que les deux autres volaient pour des creds parce qu'ils étaient accros à la drogue, il a apprécié le pouvoir qui est venu avec les gens blessés. Il aimait le contrôle. Alors que les autres se moquaient parce qu'ils avaient besoin d'une solution, il se moquait parce que ses muscles étaient prêts à l'action et qu'ils brillaient à la chance de blesser quelqu'un, ou du moins faire quelque chose pour nourrir son besoin d'adrénaline. Les deux ont attendu quelques instants, puis ont commencé à s'agiter anxieusement quand ce qu'ils attendaient est devenu visible. C'était une ambulance mobile First Response, et c'était ce qu'ils attendaient. Ils ont réussi à voler 3 maintenant, en prenant l'équipage (avec un degré varié de violence qui a été de plus en plus) et en braquant eux et les véhicules. Ils ont ensuite pris ce qu'ils pouvaient et l'ont vendu comme bon leur semblait. Il avait été une marche de gâteau parce que cette zone n'était pas une zone trop hostile ou dangereuse, donc ces ambulances n'avaient pas de sécurité. Le trio allait simplement entrer, râler et menacer une personne afin de les amener à activer leur service et le groupe First Response viendrait faire son travail. Alors, les gangsters feraient le leur. Par habitude, les deux tweakers se dirigeaient vers l'avant pour obtenir les chauffeurs et le chef allait quitter le dos au cas où il y aurait un troisième médecin ou une sécurité. "Allez," il a dit aux deux autres alors qu'ils s'approchaient du véhicule. Il a attendu le signe clair que l'équipage était soumis, mais au lieu de cela, il a pu entendre les deux qui parlaient alors qu'ils ouvraient la porte. Après un moment, ils sont revenus avec des regards confus sur leurs visages, et cela l'a confondu à tour de rôle. C'est le problème? Vous les tuez? L'un d'eux s'est exprimé doucement et discrètement. Le problème, c'est qu'il n'y a personne là-dedans. Musta a été autodémarré dans ou quelque chose. Et bien, va te faire voir. Vous deux, ouvrez les portes, je vais continuer à regarder dehors. Il n'a vu aucune voiture de flic et il y avait quelques personnes dans la rue, ce qui signifiait que les flics n'étaient pas ici. Si oui, ils auraient (probablement) défriché les rues ou quelque chose pour éviter les dommages collatéraux. Les portes se sont ouvertes et il a tourné un moment plus tard juste à temps pour voir une forme tirer deux plusieurs coups sur eux. Il n'y avait pas de son et il pouvait entendre l'électricité dans l'air, donc il savait que c'était une sorte d'étourdissement. Les deux autres ont fait des élpes, mais comme il était la dernière cible, il a eu le temps de tourner et d'éviter le tir. Alors qu'il filait, il se dirigea vers l'homme de l'ambulance, s'empara du poignet et le jeta sur sa tête avec force, né d'une combinaison de drogues sur mesure. L'homme grogna alors qu'il claquait sur le capot et laissa tomber l'arme stupéfiante, mais il réussit à se casser le poignet libre du voyou. L'homme en uniforme sur le capot a regardé juste à temps pour voir le voyou lever un poing et le faire tomber. Le garde a cependant filé et a évité le coup, qui a brisé une grosse bosse dans le capot. Alors qu'il filait et que ses pieds affrontaient le voyou, il se jeta, attrapa le drogué dans la poitrine et le poussa en arrière longtemps et assez loin pour lui permettre de sauter du capot et sur ses pieds. Sans perdre de temps, le criminel est venu à la garde agressivement. Le gardien, qui a lu le mot-symbole "MACKEY" a pris un angle sur le chemin des coups et sur le côté, de sorte que son dos n'était plus à la voiture, lui offrant plus de place. Le ruffien a lancé un coup de pied latéral au milieu du Mackey, qui s'est opposé en ramenant les coudes vers le bas et vers l'extérieur dans un flou, en brisant la jambe et en redirigeant le coup. Le corps de l'homme n'était pas préparé pour que le coup soit redirigé et son corps était maintenant à une position tendue et vulnérable. Sans manquer un battement ou gaspiller l'énergie créée par l'élan, le poing de garde s'est trouvé dans un crochet qui se liait avec le temple des voyous avec une croûte fatigante et squuelching. L'homme était sorti avant de savoir ce qui se passait et son corps est tombé au sol comme des nouilles spaghetti. Il a regardé autour de la scène et s'est assuré que les trois sujets étaient sécurisés avant de radioner sur son système de communication. Scène sécurisée. Il regarda le voyou combattant, se couchant le visage et saignant de la bouche, du nez et des oreilles sur le trottoir. Une personne qui a besoin de soins médicaux sévères.

Name: Joshua Mackey. Occupation: Armed Guard for LA First Response (a mobile medical service). Also takes odd jobs as a private detective. Age: 39. Birthplace: Flint, Michigan. Ethnicity: Caucasian. Nationality: American. Style: Clothes – Cargo pants and loose, nondescript clothing. At work, LAFR uniform. Hairstyle – Brown hair kept short with a medium or low fade. Affections – Several scars on his chest, neck, and arms from shrapnel. A large scar on his lower back from a shotgun blast. Across his upper back, he has “I AM BECOME DEATH” in large black letters. Family Background: His father was killed in in Central America while serving as a Navy Corpsman. His mother was killed when he was 17. She was in California on vacation when the Big One hit. He has one older brother who runs a large and successful gang in Las Vegas. Motivations: Traits – Determined. Headstrong. Reserved. Detached. Ethical. Avoids violence, but responds with unadulterated brutality (it’s either on or off). Valued Person – No person in extremely high value. Has close bond with (my other character, name to be determined) who is an occasional business associate. Value Most – Privacy. He hasn’t dealt with his past and may never. Hopes to fall in love. Respect and trust. Feelings Toward People – He regards human life highly, but doesn’t allow people to get close to him. His mentality is that feelings lead to lose at some point. Valued Possession – An old Marine Corps NCO coin. Life Events: Joshua was born in 1981, when things were somewhat “normal” compared to today. He was young when technology took massive leaps and it shook up the world and started dividing nations and countries. One of his earlier important memories was losing his father, who was in the US Navy. He was raised by his mother after that and she never really settled down with anyone as her life was devoted to raising two boys. Not long after the death of her father, the family moved to Las Vegas so that she could find better income. It wasn’t long after that that Joshua’s older brother ended up forming what started as a small gang, but ended up being one of the larger, more ruthless, and financially lucrative gangs on the West Coast. While Joshua was never heavily invested in the gang like his brother, he did run with them but managed to avoid much trouble or getting involved with anything serious, unlike his brother. When he was 17, his mother decided to visit the coast of California, as she’d never seen the ocean, and ended up being killed in the massive earthquake that rocked the state. No longer having a mother or a father, and his brother being more concerned with gang life, he was on his own. He finished school and put away the money that was made when he sold the house he inherited, deciding he was going to join the military. Having taken krav maga the majority of his life and scoring well on the placement tests, he decided to join the Navy and follow in his father’s footsteps. However, he ended up casually chatting with a Marine Corps recruiter and they talked about his father and the circumstances surrounding his death. The recruiter challenged Joshua slightly, saying why not protect Corpsmen, why not be the tip of the spear and go out and kill people like those that would hurt others. Why be passive? Why not take the fight to the enemy. Whether it was sincerity or merely a desire to fill the quota, Joshua took the bait and enlisted into the Marine Corps. He originally worked in the Admin Field, much to his chagrin, but was force moved to work as a Military Police Officer, which he enjoyed more thoroughly—especially after getting sent to a tactical unit. It wasn’t long after that that his unit was mobilized and deployed in 2000. In what was a very unconventional move, the unit deployed in the U.S. to help quell the Y2K riots. It was very bloody and intense. Almost immediately after, his unit was deployed to put down a small coupe in South America where again, they seen some heavy combat. After just over 6 years, he ended his enlistment with an honorable discharge. After that, he spent roughly 10 or 11 years doing security and military work for various Corporations. However, after a bloody several months spent fighting in the shadows of the Second Corps War, he decided he’d had enough of the military life. Luckily for him, not long after, the Third Corps War broke out. At the age of 36, he began working for a company named First Response, a company that essentially provided ambulatory services for a price. This price however included certain guarantees and included armed guards to ensure that even in the most destitute of areas, services would be provided. Additionally, he has worked side jobs doing private detective work. Joshua is generally solitary in nature. He carries much baggage from the many wars he’s fought and deals with it by avoiding people. He drinks occasionally but stays away from drugs. Weapons: SCAR HAMR X (7.62mm assault rifle). Taurus Supreme Judge (Five 16 gauge shell revolver). NAA Protector (.40 semi-automatic handgun). KBAR VibroKnife. Atlas Taser. 3 semtex direct-blast breaching grenades. 2 M67 hand grenades. Two pairs of KevMesh pants and shirts. Flak Jacket with MPI (modified protective inserts). Skills: Pistol/Rifle marksman. Corporate security tactics. Police informant. Streetwise. Martial Arts – krav maga, boxing. Search, Evade, Resist, Escape (SERE) training. Non-lethal tactics. Urban Combat Training. Interrogation/Exploitation tactics. Intimidation. Augmentations: E-Tech Ultra V (Cyberarm, right arm. With cybermodem and interface plugs and bug detector). Voltan Focus (cybereye, right eye. Internal personal and combat HUD linked to deck. Low light and infra-red. Smart link synced). NU Tech Spartan (neural processor. Installed Smart Link/Smart Gun system. Pain editor and reflex chip.) Ford Industries MuscleMass (bioware. Left arm, both legs. Enhanced muscle mass and control). Equipment: CompuTech Beacon (personal deck. Midlevel personal deck. Can be used for illegal decking on a low level but not built for decking professionally.) Several mid to high range cameras and recording devices used when doing private investigating.

A mi-chemin... juste quelques pâtés de maisons... Tyler pensait à lui-même. Les blocs ici étaient massifs par rapport à LA; facilement deux à trois fois en taille. La seule chose qui était la plupart du temps différente était la population. Night City était bondée, mais pas surpeuplée. Même si les Slums de Night City ne devaient pas être sous-estimés, ils sont une promenade de gâteau en comparaison des rues moyennes de Los Angeles. Il a commencé à contempler ce qu'il faisait sur Terre de sa vie. Quoi qu'il en soit, il va y avoir des crimes qu'il ne peut pas arrêter, des affaires qui ne seront pas résolues et qu'il n'a rien pu faire pour l'arrêter. Pourtant, quelque chose l'obligeait à continuer. "Pourquoi? Pourquoi je me bats? Je suis stupide? C'est fou? Les deux? Je ne sais même plus... » Absent d'esprit, il n'avait pas prêté attention à la blonde dans laquelle il était sur le point d'entrer. Elle était jeune, à peu près de son âge, cybernée (bien qu'insurgée dans quelle mesure), et de la assez provisoire "excuse-moi", avait des restes d'un accent non-américain. "Non, non, mademoiselle. C'est bon. Vous m'avez fait sortir de mon pays des merveilles. Tu restes loin des ennuis?"

Name: Tyler Skye Pierce Occupation: LAPD Vice Detective Age: 25, born April 13th, 1994 Birthplace: Los Angeles, CA Ethnicity: Caucasian Nationality: American Style: Clothes – Euro-Modern (Long overcoats, button-ups, slacks, and scarves are common place; typically sharp dressed) Hairstyle – Slick-back with shaved sides, Natural Black Affections – Kanji tattoo of the word “Valor” (“義気”) on right forearm; many blast and surgery scars, predominantly on left side of body. Family Background: Mother: Desiree Amanda Guerrero – Deceased Father: UNKNOWN (only known as “Pierce”; unclear whether first name or surname) – UNKNOWN (Presumed deceased) Middle Brother: Lucas Scott Pierce (age: 12) – Living; in foster care Youngest Brother: Logan Cash Pierce (age: 9) – Living; in foster care Motivations: Traits – Laconic, stoic, described as “cold” and “dead inside”, and will become violent if provoked Valued Person – His Brothers Value Most – Honesty Feelings toward People – Every person is a valuable individual. Valued Possession – A photograph of his mother and father together, with “I am sorry, but this is goodbye. I love you. –Pierce XOXO” written on the back. Life Events: Age 17 – Found a Sensei (Ashitaka Isamu, born August 21st, 1957 – 10th Dan Jūdōka). High School Student Age 18 – Made enemies with a low ranking for corporate exec for causing him great humiliation and significant damage to his reputation. Joined the United States Marine Corps. Age 19 – Made enemies with a superior officer who was exploiting men in her unit for her own personal gain. Brought it up higher and exposed her. Had a personal vendetta against Tyler. Marine Infantry. Age 20 – Nothing notable happened this year. Age 21 – Made enemies with his uncle (Travis Guerrero, born November 22nd, 1979) after a confrontation on leave. Whilst in a drunken stupor, instigated that Tyler was the cause of his mother’s death. Things escalated and ended on bad terms. Returns from leave and deployed to a combat zone. Involved in a massive explosion; massive internal damage, loss of left eye, left arm (at the forearm), and left leg (at the thigh). Clinically dead for one minute, thirty-nine seconds (a very long time to be, well… dead). Resuscitated and rebuilt. Marine Infantry. Age 22 – Honorable discharge from United States Marine Corps (as a sergeant). Rekindled relationship with an old high school sweetheart (Macy Dailey, born March 7th, 1995). Nothing romantic… yet. Joined the Los Angeles Police Department as a police sergeant due to prior military service. Age 23 – Made a friend and a mentor in the police force, Detective Jacob Gale. Age 24 – Reconciled friendship with uncle. Promoted to detective meritoriously. Age 25 – Made friends with a new recruit, fresh from the police academy, Officer Franklyn Nakamura. Weapons: Colt AMT Model 2000 Sternmeyer Stakeout 10 Monosharpened KA-BAR Fighting Knife (a holdover from the USMC) 15" Retractable Police Baton Brass Knuckle Duster (a personal item) Skills: Pistol Marksmanship Rifle Marksmanship Interrogation/coercion Streetwise Awareness/notice Martial Art – Judo Weight Training Pain Conditioning Augmentations: Cyber Eye, Left – Telescopic Lens, Micro-optics, Infrared, Targeting Scope Cyber Arm, Left – Superchrome® finish, tool hand Cyber Leg, Left – RealSkinnTM finish, hidden holster (for Colt AMT) Equipment: On any given patrol, Tyler will have all five of his weapons either on his person or in his patrol vehicle. The two firearms are always fully loaded with one extra magazine apiece to spare and an additional five magazines apiece in the squad car’s trunk. In terms of armor, a Kevlar T-shirt worn as an undershirt with a heavy Kevlar laced jacket.

M. Clean Cut n'est peut-être arrivé qu'à mi-chemin de sa destination, mais à son insu, il avait trébuché assez profondément dans un quartier qu'il ne devrait probablement pas être. C'était évident avant qu'il parle. Mais il était là, donc elle a dû supposer qu'il pouvait prendre soin de lui-même. C'était le jour et vraiment, elle était jugée, qui n'a pas regardé hors de sa place sous le néon lumineux qui avait remplacé le soleil? C'était un sentiment imprégnant qui étouffait les sens avec un bourrage constant de machines qui dirigeaient la bande sonore ici. Dans les confins de la jungle en béton, la jonque et le trésor côte à côte, chair paraissant maladroite avec tout le métal chatoyant, elle sentait qu'ils n'appartenaient pas tous. Elle était aussi un doigt agité loin de pousser l'auto-destruction sur toute cette chose de santé et d'humanité, alors qu'est-ce qu'elle savait. Elle fléchissait dans ses propres pensées pendant des heures, des minutes, difficile à dire dans le filet, et le reste, l'interaction humaine, c'était purement instinctif à ce stade. Ses moments rares avec d'autres exigeaient peu d'activité cérébrale par rapport aux sentiers qu'elle poursuivait dans son propre esprit. La plus grande difficulté était de s'assurer que ses pensées étaient exprimées d'une manière « humaine » ; ses paroles avaient parfois une cadence maladroite quand elle n'était pas concentrée. Il fallait de la patience. Ses doigts, encore un peu agités par l'opération, avaient déjà atteint des lunettes qui lui ont glissé sur le visage presque aussi vite que le faux sourire. Avec l'aide des lunettes ombragées, elle rencontra de nouveau son regard, moins d'une minute passa. Mais tout ce qu'il voyait, c'était un léger sourcil qui se levait derrière les lunettes. Quelle question chargée. Certainement pas d'ici. Le sourire sur ses lèvres a augmenté encore plus, tellement que des fossettes sont apparues. Elle a jeté un doigt très humain à leur sujet dans une rotation. Elle a clin d'œil sous les lunettes, oubliant que le geste serait perdu par une teinte lourde. Normalement, c'est là qu'elle s'est enfuie. Les formalités avec quelqu'un qu'elle supposait maintenant était une sorte de sécurité ou de loi ou un proxénète haut de gamme n'étaient pas son M.O. particulier. Mais elle n'avait nulle part où être pendant quelques heures et elle prévoyait d'avoir une autre fumée de toute façon. Alors qu'elle fouillait pour une cigarette, elle regardait autour de la rue, plus d'une ruelle par rapport aux zones corporatives. Au milieu de l'après-midi, c'était toujours quelque chose d'une ville fantôme, peuplée, mais pas tellement qu'elle n'a pas remarqué un autre type de coupe propre faisant son chemin vers le bas de la route. Elle a glissé une cigarette entre ses lèvres, en utilisant le dernier de son doigt silex pour allumer le cig et ensuite les jeter avec un autre fil. Elle a glissé sa tête dans la direction de et a parlé à travers sa cigarette à l'homme qu'elle avait heurté. Peut-être qu'elle devrait être nerveuse, qu'il y avait des gens qui la cherchaient, et n'est-ce pas les types qu'ils enverraient pour la trouver? Non, ils veulent lui faire frire le cerveau, ils enverraient un technicien. Ils avaient sûrement quelqu'un dans un van en bas de la route. Elle aurait probablement dû rester à l'atelier, l'anesthésie n'avait probablement pas été usée. Elle a pris une tirette de la cigarette pendant que ses yeux dardaient entre les deux sous la couverture de teinte chromée.

Name:Isabella Hägg‏ Occupation:Net Cowgirl; Freelance Age, Date of Birth:26; December 2nd, 1993 Birthplace:Stockholm, Sweden Ethnicity/Nationality:Swedish Style: Clothes – Kevlar armor jacket in black, loose fitting tank tops. Tight pants and combat boots. Aviator sunglasses. Hairstyle – Waist length braids and dreadlocks with organic circuitry woven in. Her natural pale blonde hair predominant over a few thin red, blue, green and yellow cables. Affections – Large tattoo of a Balron demon that crosses her back, curling around her right hip up to her left shoulder; a nod to Rache Bartmoss. Barcode tattooed across her right shoulder in homage to transhumanism. Multiple metal piercings laced through her ears. Family Background: Lucas Hägg, ‏Brother - Fixer, used to sell information for Ise. Missing for almost 5 years, presumed dead. Father - Deceased. Mother - Deceased. Extended Family - Unassociated Motivations: Traits – imaginative, hallucinatory, intellectual, detached, she just wants to watch the world burn Valued Person – Lucas Hägg‏, Missing/Dead. Value Most – Knowledge and Vengeance Feelings Toward People – Neutral Valued Possession – Metal and wood necklace containing a datachip with pictures of her family Born- Exceedingly pro-cybernetic parents. Father a Corporate Executive; Mother is a Professor. Both children are introduced to cybertech early on. Age 2- Mother dies Age 3- Father starts teaching her programming and lays the foundation for all future knowledge. Age 6- Becomes fascinated with RF signals and starts manipulating equipment. Age 9- Starts to get comfortable with the net. Age 15- Starts pushing the limits on the Net, outgrown the usefulness of school. Age 16- Father murdered, she believes by a corporation and this shapes her driving motivation. Her brother and her begin working as a team to steal and sell secrets and information. Age 17- Goes into Corporate Training. Age 19- Gets involved in corporate espionage. Brother disapproves and they fight for the first time. She convinces him to continue helping her sell information. Age 22- Final argument with brother. He disappears and no one has seen him since. Age 23- Realizes that she is in too deep. She suspects the Corporation may have killed her brother. She disappears, spending a large sum of money to hire help to “ghost” herself. Stows away and arrives in America. Meets up with contacts from the Net who help get her on her feet. Age 26- Still picking up random jobs; mainly for anti-corporate fighters, but not against working for some corporate ladder climbers to make a buck. Weapons: Budget Arms C - 13 Vz61 Skorpion - shoulder holster Switchblade Skills: Interface; ability to manipulate interface programs Education; electrophysiology and neural network emulation System knowledge; knowledge of the Net Programming; write programs and re-program computer systems Hide, evade; losing pursuers, covering tracks, evading people on your trail. Electronics; maintaining, repairing and modifying electronic instruments Electronic security; installing/countering Cyber tech; repairing and maintaining cyberware Augmentations: Neuralware Processor Cybermodem Cybermodem Link; translates net images Interface Plugs : back of scalp. stud directly into machines Kerenzikov Boosterware; boosts her response time DataTerm Link; can access DataTerm information on the go Nanosurgeons Interface plugs in scalp Implanted Fangs w/ poison injectors Equipment: Modified Portable Cyberdeck Cybermodem Security Scanner Tech Scanner Tech Tool Kit Electronics kit Collection of Chips; chips boost skills Ammo

Il ne savait pas à quel moment de la journée il était et pour être honnête, il ne s'en souciait pas. Il a eu deux jours de congé et rien à faire pour qu'il ait passé la nuit dernière à boire. Il pensait que c'était hier soir, mais en y pensant, il ne savait pas à quelle heure ses activités ont commencé hier non plus. En fait, il a pris un moment pour vérifier son HUD interne et confirmer quel jour il était. Alors qu'il marchait, il a permis à ses internes électroniques d'ajuster son métabolisme et son taux d'hormones de sorte qu'il était un peu plus fonctionnel. Il a frotté ses temples, regardant le haut et heureux que le soleil était obscurci ici, sachant que s'il avait été brillant, cela aurait été douloureux. Quelques pas plus tard, il s'est senti à l'aise et a remarqué une paire qui semblait un peu polaire opposée. Elle ressemblait à un burn-out et il semblait qu'il devrait l'arrêter pour quelque chose. Alors qu'il s'approchait, il se rendit compte qu'il reconnaissait la femme de quelque part. Peut-être un club ou un bar, ou peut-être les rues, mais il l'a vue dans le coin. L'autre type, il n'était pas familier du tout. Il a regardé la tenue et il était flic, mais il n'était pas local, alors Josh ne s'est pas inquiété. Il est peut-être dangereux, mais Josh aussi. Et ce ne serait pas la première fois qu'il s'était enchevêtré avec les cuivres, il a juste essayé de l'éviter. Ami? Je n'ai pas d'amis, il a répondu avec un léger sourire. Il s'est arrêté et a regardé sur les deux une fois de plus avant de regarder autour, en regardant ses environs hors d'habitude. Il y a quelque chose de shakin, ce soir?

Name: Joshua Mackey. Occupation: Armed Guard for LA First Response (a mobile medical service). Also takes odd jobs as a private detective. Age: 39. Birthplace: Flint, Michigan. Ethnicity: Caucasian. Nationality: American. Style: Clothes – Cargo pants and loose, nondescript clothing. At work, LAFR uniform. Hairstyle – Brown hair kept short with a medium or low fade. Affections – Several scars on his chest, neck, and arms from shrapnel. A large scar on his lower back from a shotgun blast. Across his upper back, he has “I AM BECOME DEATH” in large black letters. Family Background: His father was killed in in Central America while serving as a Navy Corpsman. His mother was killed when he was 17. She was in California on vacation when the Big One hit. He has one older brother who runs a large and successful gang in Las Vegas. Motivations: Traits – Determined. Headstrong. Reserved. Detached. Ethical. Avoids violence, but responds with unadulterated brutality (it’s either on or off). Valued Person – No person in extremely high value. Has close bond with (my other character, name to be determined) who is an occasional business associate. Value Most – Privacy. He hasn’t dealt with his past and may never. Hopes to fall in love. Respect and trust. Feelings Toward People – He regards human life highly, but doesn’t allow people to get close to him. His mentality is that feelings lead to lose at some point. Valued Possession – An old Marine Corps NCO coin. Life Events: Joshua was born in 1981, when things were somewhat “normal” compared to today. He was young when technology took massive leaps and it shook up the world and started dividing nations and countries. One of his earlier important memories was losing his father, who was in the US Navy. He was raised by his mother after that and she never really settled down with anyone as her life was devoted to raising two boys. Not long after the death of her father, the family moved to Las Vegas so that she could find better income. It wasn’t long after that that Joshua’s older brother ended up forming what started as a small gang, but ended up being one of the larger, more ruthless, and financially lucrative gangs on the West Coast. While Joshua was never heavily invested in the gang like his brother, he did run with them but managed to avoid much trouble or getting involved with anything serious, unlike his brother. When he was 17, his mother decided to visit the coast of California, as she’d never seen the ocean, and ended up being killed in the massive earthquake that rocked the state. No longer having a mother or a father, and his brother being more concerned with gang life, he was on his own. He finished school and put away the money that was made when he sold the house he inherited, deciding he was going to join the military. Having taken krav maga the majority of his life and scoring well on the placement tests, he decided to join the Navy and follow in his father’s footsteps. However, he ended up casually chatting with a Marine Corps recruiter and they talked about his father and the circumstances surrounding his death. The recruiter challenged Joshua slightly, saying why not protect Corpsmen, why not be the tip of the spear and go out and kill people like those that would hurt others. Why be passive? Why not take the fight to the enemy. Whether it was sincerity or merely a desire to fill the quota, Joshua took the bait and enlisted into the Marine Corps. He originally worked in the Admin Field, much to his chagrin, but was force moved to work as a Military Police Officer, which he enjoyed more thoroughly—especially after getting sent to a tactical unit. It wasn’t long after that that his unit was mobilized and deployed in 2000. In what was a very unconventional move, the unit deployed in the U.S. to help quell the Y2K riots. It was very bloody and intense. Almost immediately after, his unit was deployed to put down a small coupe in South America where again, they seen some heavy combat. After just over 6 years, he ended his enlistment with an honorable discharge. After that, he spent roughly 10 or 11 years doing security and military work for various Corporations. However, after a bloody several months spent fighting in the shadows of the Second Corps War, he decided he’d had enough of the military life. Luckily for him, not long after, the Third Corps War broke out. At the age of 36, he began working for a company named First Response, a company that essentially provided ambulatory services for a price. This price however included certain guarantees and included armed guards to ensure that even in the most destitute of areas, services would be provided. Additionally, he has worked side jobs doing private detective work. Joshua is generally solitary in nature. He carries much baggage from the many wars he’s fought and deals with it by avoiding people. He drinks occasionally but stays away from drugs. Weapons: SCAR HAMR X (7.62mm assault rifle). Taurus Supreme Judge (Five 16 gauge shell revolver). NAA Protector (.40 semi-automatic handgun). KBAR VibroKnife. Atlas Taser. 3 semtex direct-blast breaching grenades. 2 M67 hand grenades. Two pairs of KevMesh pants and shirts. Flak Jacket with MPI (modified protective inserts). Skills: Pistol/Rifle marksman. Corporate security tactics. Police informant. Streetwise. Martial Arts – krav maga, boxing. Search, Evade, Resist, Escape (SERE) training. Non-lethal tactics. Urban Combat Training. Interrogation/Exploitation tactics. Intimidation. Augmentations: E-Tech Ultra V (Cyberarm, right arm. With cybermodem and interface plugs and bug detector). Voltan Focus (cybereye, right eye. Internal personal and combat HUD linked to deck. Low light and infra-red. Smart link synced). NU Tech Spartan (neural processor. Installed Smart Link/Smart Gun system. Pain editor and reflex chip.) Ford Industries MuscleMass (bioware. Left arm, both legs. Enhanced muscle mass and control). Equipment: CompuTech Beacon (personal deck. Midlevel personal deck. Can be used for illegal decking on a low level but not built for decking professionally.) Several mid to high range cameras and recording devices used when doing private investigating.

Katarina Durand "Tu veux dire "on est perdus"?" La femme a crié à l'homme en liberté qui conduisait la voiture. Elle savait qu'elle n'aurait pas dû laisser quelqu'un d'autre, mais qu'elle conduisait ce merveilleux morceau de métal. C'était une merveille que son goon ne l'ait pas encore griffé. "Tout ce que je dis, c'est que je ne sais même pas où nous allons, c'est tout", a déclaré l'homme bruissant calmement. Katarina a soudainement réussi à être plus frustré par son comportement calme plutôt que par le fait qu'ils étaient perdus. Ce nincompoop n'a pas compris les ramifications de toute cette opération, n'est-ce pas? "Jim, je te jure que tu ferais mieux de découvrir où nous sommes maintenant avant que je devienne encore plus fou", a menacé Katarina. La femme soupirait alors qu'elle regardait par la fenêtre. Quel putain de trou cet endroit était. Elle comprenait en partie pourquoi Jim aurait pu se perdre; toutes ces rues avaient la même apparence, éclaboussante. « Avec tout le respect que je vous dois, mademoiselle, cela n'aurait pas eu lieu si nous avions une sorte d'appareil GPS », a déclaré Jim alors qu'il cherchait une sorte de point de passage qu'il se souvenait avoir vu. -- Je vous le dis, je ne veux donner à personne une autre facette pour me suivre, répondit Katarina, en regardant ce qui semblait être un vide de puanteur et de malheur. Peu de temps avant qu'elle reçoive un appel d'un de ses contacts, le même gars qui lui a demandé de faire ce travail en premier lieu. "Hé, de quoi as-tu besoin?" Elle a demandé d'une voix monotone et terne quand elle a répondu à l'appel. "Moonman, tu sembles différent. Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas, mon pote?" l'homme de l'autre côté a répondu. Sa voix était profonde et un peu gaufrée; tous deux utilisaient des modificateurs de parole pour tout type de communication, afin de préserver leur anonymat. "Rien. Dites-moi ce dont vous avez besoin », a-t-elle répété; elle n'était pas d'humeur à faire des formalités ou à parler. "Néanmoins, je n'ai pas besoin de rien", a déclaré l'homme, "je voulais savoir comment ça allait. Je suis aussi bien sorti pour ce hing que toi," -- Je parie que vous l'êtes, répondit Katarina sèchement, écoute, je suis un peu occupé en ce moment, je vous rappellerai plus tard, d'accord? "C'est vrai, c'est vrai. J'espère qu'on sera en contact. Tu es mon homme, Moonman », a dit l'homme alors qu'il a terminé l'appel téléphonique. Katarina soupirait alors qu'elle rangait son téléphone. Elle se regardait elle-même; elle portait une robe noire soignée, mais plutôt courte. Trop élégant pour cette ville, peut-être trop élégant pour l'expo elle-même. Ça n'avait probablement pas d'importance, elle avait ses voyous avec elle pour la protéger. Boris et Jim portaient tous deux des costumes gris. Ils n'aimaient pas, elle s'en foutait. -- Dis, mademoiselle, vous ne demandez pas de direction? Boris demanda avec son accent d'Europe de l'Est. Katarina l'a regardé, assis à l'arrière du van. Elle était sur le point de le déprécier pour avoir suggéré l'idée même de se mêler à certains locaux, en particulier dans cette partie de la ville. Mais, à vrai dire, ils avaient besoin d'aide. "Bien," Katarina soupira, "Jim, gare-toi près de ce groupe de trois personnes. Ils ne ressemblent à aucune sorte de gang, ils seront probablement prêts à aider." Jim s'est conformé alors que le van noir s'arrêtait à côté du groupe. Le groupe avait l'air louche, sans doute, mais qui n'avait pas l'air louche dans cette ville. Deux gars et une fille. La fille avait l'air assez particulière, avec une coiffure excentrique, tandis que les deux hommes semblaient plutôt endurcis par le combat, pas une vue inhabituelle à voir. Boris et Jim préparèrent silencieusement leurs armes de poing, au cas où quelque chose tomberait; Katarina s'attendait à ce que le seul échange soit d'information, pas de balles. Alors que la voiture s'enfuyait à côté du groupe, Katarina a renversé sa fenêtre. « Dites, si vous voulez bien savoir où se trouve cette exposition technologique, j'ai l'air d'avoir perdu mon chemin », a-t-elle demandé, essayant de paraître aussi innocente que possible.

Name: Katarina Durand Occupation: Fixer Age: 26, Born December 13, 1993. Birthplace: Austin, Texas. Ethnicity: Pale Caucasian. Nationality: American. Style: Clothes – Generally dresses elegantly with short, dark dresses. Hairstyle – Short black hair, sometimes worn in a bun. Affections – Pale skin, nails painted deep red, deep red lipstick, mascara. Family Background: Cut ties with family long ago. Motivations: Traits – Self-centered, hedonistic, resourceful, calculating, manipulative. Valued Person – Herself Value Most – Money and Power. Feelings Toward People – A person is a tool, like any other. If it breaks, replace it. Valued Possession – Her car. Life Events: December 13, 1993: Born October 20, 2010: Meets a guy named Hank. Hank was a pretty calm kid, seemed alright, but he got Katarina in some trouble when the two got involved in some racketeering business December 29, 2010: Katarina and Hank run away from their home to live their life of crime in Night City. February 3, 2011: Katarina finds out how Hank has been hiding money from her and kills him. February 4, 2011: Katarina sets up her own drug dealing operation. July 17, 2016: Expands her dealing operations to include illicit firearms and body augmentations September 20, 2017: Her operations collapse during a raid, Katarina is forced to start over. October 10, 2017: Hires two thugs, Boris and Deone. March 30, 2018: Deone dies, is replaced by Jim the same day. Weapons: Can easily obtain most firearms, however she usually has an FN-FAL near her at all times, as well as a switchblade. Skills: -Seduction -Persuasion -Firearms Marksmanship -Streetwise -Intimidation -Driving Augmentations: -Cyber Eye, Right: Image Enhancement, Micro-Optics, Infrared. Equipment: -Van, windowless, armored, modified to increase speed. -Her two bodyguards, both armed. -Her weapons

Je veux que tout soit en marche à mon retour, mesdames et messieurs. Juste parce que je ne serai pas ici pour la soirée ne signifie pas que vous êtes tous libres de vous relâcher et de faire comme vous le pensez. Essayez de vous rappeler que le bonus à votre salaire dépend non seulement de ma capacité à acquérir de nouvelles technologies, mais votre capacité à garder les choses en bon état! Mao Raksmei a appelé alors qu'il tenait les rails devant lui. Au-dessous de lui, on s'est faufilé autour de chaque chemin sur le plancher de l'usine, transportant toutes sortes de pièces de machine dans les espaces qui leur ont été attribués. Mao était venu un chemin équitable depuis son arrivée aux États-Unis, et les fruits de son travail où assez apparent. Ce qui n'était qu'à un moment donné, c'était lui et une poignée d'ouvriers qui opéraient à partir d'un vieux complexe d'appartements clôturés s'étaient transformés en une opération entièrement dotée de personnel. Bien sûr que tout n'était pas parfait - lui et son équipage opéraient maintenant à partir d'une conserverie plutôt que d'un immeuble délabré -, mais les choses étaient sur le chemin d'être là. Après tout, le propriétaire de la conserverie était plus que disposé à regarder de l'autre côté à condition qu'il ait gagné une coupe des profits, donc il n'y avait pas de risque là. Quelques marchandises de transport maritime étaient toujours heureuses de faire un peu d'argent supplémentaire, et on pouvait dire la même chose des policiers qui patrouillaient les zones. Ceux qui n'ont pas été achetés avec de l'argent ont été soit gagnés avec de la drogue ou une nouvelle prothèse brillante qu'un être cher avait désespérément besoin mais ne pouvait pas se permettre, ou ils ont été traités d'autres manières, plus insouciantes. Tout ce qu'il fallait pour que Mao fasse maintenant, c'était de garder ses employés heureux (ou aussi heureux qu'un contrefacteur puisse l'être de toute façon), de s'assurer que papa Kong reçoit sa coupe et de maintenir le flux de nouvelles technologies en puissance. En l'état, c'est la dernière partie qui s'est révélée la plus difficile. Les grandes sociétés commençaient à tomber dur sur toute personne qui avait une augmentation qui ressemblait à l'un de leurs dessins. Puis encore une fois, Mao avait en quelque sorte amené celui-ci sur lui-même après la masse produisant Mitsubishi ligne de nightstaker de la prothèse avec quelques augmentations de Raven Microcybernetics. Il avait raisonné que les augmentations en question où tout massivement surévalué, la ligne 6990eb en particulier, et que les gens sauteraient à la chance d'en obtenir un moins cher. Mao a été tiré de ses pensées par un remorqueur vers le bas sur sa manche de veste gauche. Le fixateur clignait et regardait vers le bas et dans le visage d'une petite fille asiatique, l'un des enfants des travailleurs immigrés qui ne pouvait pas se permettre une baby-sitter. Mao n'a pas particulièrement l'esprit tant qu'ils n'ont pas interféré avec le travail, en fait, ils ont même augmenté la morale de l'un des travailleurs, donc au lieu de devenir ennuyé Mao s'est penché et sourit doucement à l'enfant, "Comment puis-je vous aider mon amour?". La jeune fille a donné un petit sourire un peu incertain avant de demander en anglais brisé s'il y avait quelque chose pour elle et les autres enfants à faire pour aider. Mao a souvent donné des tâches à certains des enfants plus âgés avec la promesse de quelques dollars, donc ce n'était pas trop une surprise à demander cela. "Tu n'es pas gentil de vouloir aider? En fait, il y a quelque chose que vous pouvez faire. Il y a des crayons, des marqueurs et des papiers dans la salle de pause. Fais montrer à ta maman ou à ton père que tu étais pour que tu puisses faire une photo pour que je puisse mettre en place où tout le monde peut voir quand je reviens. Si tu te débrouilles bien, j'aurai une petite soirée glace pour toi et les autres enfants." Le visage de la fille s'est divisé en un large sourire, elle n'a peut-être pas tout compris dit, mais "photos" et "crème glacée" où assez facilement ramassé. Alors que la jeune fille courait chercher ses parents, Mao s'est tenu et a redressé son costume gris charbon de bois avant de vérifier sa montre, 'Il semble se rapprocher du début de l'expo. C'est l'heure d'y aller. il s'est amusé avant de quitter la rampe et de descendre un vol d'escalier à proximité. Mao n'a pas eu à s'inquiéter de ce qui manque ou de ce qui tombe dans le chaos. Il pouvait tout laisser entre les mains de son second commandant non officiel, Ponlok, un homme plus bas et un peu rusé qui avait l'air d'un vieil homme de peu de mots qui avait été parmi les premiers employés de Mao. Mao est sorti de la conserverie et a commencé son trek vers le parking. Même quand il était hors de vue des autres, il maintenait la démarche confiante et quelque peu gracieuse d'un homme de statut et d'éducation beaucoup plus élevé que lui-même. Le soleil reflétait avec éclat sa montre Legacy Machine N°2 alors qu'il courait une main par ses cheveux tressés. Mao s'est faufilé en tirant ses clés de la poche interne de son blazer et a appuyé sur le bouton de déverrouillage, son sourire s'élargissant alors qu'il voyait les lumières sur son flash nissan 3Q en réponse. Même dans le sombre monde d'aujourd'hui luxuries a pu être trouvé, et ce véhicule était certainement l'un d'entre eux. Une partie d'un commerce pour quelques forges d'augmentation haut de gamme, le camion était, pour lui, un mélange parfait d'attractivité et d'efficacité; étant comme à la maison à un salon de voiture haut de gamme comme il était sur un sentier hors route. Mao s'est glissé dans son véhicule et l'a lancé, se réveillant au son du moteur qui gronde à la vie. L'expo serait tenu à environ une heure et demie de la conserverie s'il prenait l'itinéraire le plus rapide, le trafic ne tenant pas. Mao a saisi le volant d'une main et a percuté les directions de la NIGHT CITY TeXPO, et avec cela, il était parti. Disparu du parking et en bas de la route dans un nuage de poussière et fait monter le gravier.

Name: Jacque Lucius Howell Occupation: Fixer Age: 25: May 6, 1994 Birthplace: Cape Town, South Africa Ethnicity: Half black, half white Nationality: Afrikaner Style: Clothes – Three piece suits- colors are strictly, black, white, neutral or any combination of the three, solid or stripped ties, black or brown dress shoes, expensive watches or bracelets Casual clothing- Jeans or cargo pants: strictly black, grey, or dark blue, t-shirts, long sleeve shirts, and tanks tops all vary in color and design, as do hoodies and jackets Hairstyle – Slightly past shoulder length and braided, kept in a pony tail with one or two strands left free. May occasionally sport hair beads. Affections – and a healed over stab wound on his stomach from a deal that went sour, his nose is slightly crooked from taking a 2x4 to the face during another sour deal. Family Background: He has absolutely zero clue where his biological family is now, or what they're doing. His adopted family is doing rather well off: His "father" is a king pin of sorts in Cambodia, dealing in just about everything you can imagine: smuggling, extortion, counterfeiting, bribery, you name it. His reach is vast in asia, stretching as far north as Nanchang, and as far south as Borneo. Even the Second Corp war has done little to dampen his operations. He's set his sights on the americas, however has only recently begun setting up shop there. Jacque's adoptive mother is aware of all of this, however she chooses to turn a blind eye to this provided her quality of life is not affected. Motivations: Traits – Manipulative, pragmatic, and extremely adaptable, usually focuses on long term gains rather than short term. Still retains some form of morality as he views assault, hostage taking, or murder as occasional and regrettable necessary evils. Extremely good at hiding his true feelings beneath an air of grace, though this facade can slip if continually pressured or allowed to indulge in his vices for too long. Valued Person – No one. Value Most – Power: to him there's absolutely nothing more important than securing your position at the top of the pedestal. Feelings Toward People – Every person has their use, no matter how small. Jacque wouldn't go so far as to say that people are pawns; he even has a tenuous grasp on the idea that there is value to life and as such will attempt to avoid killing or severely harming someone unless it becomes what he views as a necessity. Valued Possession – A four foot long, seven year old sumatran short tailed python (**known better as "Black Blood Pythons" for their dark coloration in comparison to other blood pythons) named Coal. May 6, 1994 Born in Cape Town, South Africa to Jean and Erika Howell. October 22, 2001: Jacque's parents decide to take a family trip, choosing Cambodia as their travel destination October 5, 2001: Jacque is abducted after wandering away from his parents, is subsequently placed into a sweatshop to be used to help make knock off merchandise. November 21, 2001: Jacque catches the eye of the leader of the organization, his ethnicity makes him stand out amongst the other young workers. December 1, 2001: Kong Kea brings in his wife Sinoun who is sterile, the two make plans to adopt Jacque. December 4, 2001: Jacque is adopted and renamed Mao, language and etiquette lessons begin. January 29, 2007: The Raksmei family relocates further west to avoid the combat, setting in Cheom Ksan March 15, 2007: Jacque, having long since settled into his new home, is brought into the family business, further learning of languages takes place. May 6, 2013: Jacque is sent overseas alongside a handful of loyal workers to establish a new base of operations, keeps in regular contact with Kong Kea to ensure that everything flows smoothly and that Jacque will not suddenly attempt to break off connections and run. January 8, 2019: Jacque is given free reign over his slowly growing operation with the agreement that sixty percent of all profits are sent to Kong Kea February 5, 2020: Jacque attends the Microtech expo, partially due to a desire to find new technology to counterfeit, and partially because he's curious about this new self aware A.I. Weapons: Vector .45 SMG Sig Sauer p226 Remington fast series folding knife Skills: Cyber Tech: The guy knows his cybernetics, give him a quiet room, a piece of tech, and make sure he remembers to eat and drink and he'll learn that tech inside and out in a matter of days to a few weeks. Martial Art: Practiced pradal serey from his teenage years well into his early twenties. Awareness/notice: Nothing in his territory goes unnoticed for very long. Social: Very skilled in preforming with appropriate social etiquette, a charmer, though he can come off as a bit of a sycophant at times. Streetdeal: A damn good haggler, can get supplies cheaper than others. Forgery: Can make a counterfeit that's extremely difficult to tell from the real thing provided he knows what he's working with. Submachine gun: His weapon of choice. Knows how to use one effectively, he's no Rambo, but he does what he can. Know language: A polyglot, capable of speaking Khmer, Malay, French, and English. Very rough understanding of chinese. Persuasion/fast talker: A silver tongued devil, can lie, charm, or bribe his way into or out of anything within reason. Personal Grooming: He does his best to always look presentable. Augmentations: None

Et je pensais que j'étais le seul qui s'intéressait au TeXPO... Tyler pensait à lui-même. Il a examiné passivement la société actuelle. À en juger par la façon dont la femme était habillée, les deux browly mooks, et l'armure sur leur véhicule, on pouvait déduire qu'elle était soit une entreprise de bas niveau (une douzaine à LA, où Infocomp® a son siège) ou un fixateur de haut niveau (celui qui peut faire des choses). "Oui. J'y vais moi-même. Votre direction dans la bonne direction. Vous devez continuer tout droit sur cette route et accrocher une gauche dans environ quatre pâtés de maisons." Il regardait vers l'avant en bas de la rue, réalisant que quatre blocs sont beaucoup plus loin qu'il ne semblait. Curieusement, Tyler a demandé, "Je suppose que vous avez entendu parler du nouveau robot Microtech fait?"

Name: Tyler Skye Pierce Occupation: LAPD Vice Detective Age: 25, born April 13th, 1994 Birthplace: Los Angeles, CA Ethnicity: Caucasian Nationality: American Style: Clothes – Euro-Modern (Long overcoats, button-ups, slacks, and scarves are common place; typically sharp dressed) Hairstyle – Slick-back with shaved sides, Natural Black Affections – Kanji tattoo of the word “Valor” (“義気”) on right forearm; many blast and surgery scars, predominantly on left side of body. Family Background: Mother: Desiree Amanda Guerrero – Deceased Father: UNKNOWN (only known as “Pierce”; unclear whether first name or surname) – UNKNOWN (Presumed deceased) Middle Brother: Lucas Scott Pierce (age: 12) – Living; in foster care Youngest Brother: Logan Cash Pierce (age: 9) – Living; in foster care Motivations: Traits – Laconic, stoic, described as “cold” and “dead inside”, and will become violent if provoked Valued Person – His Brothers Value Most – Honesty Feelings toward People – Every person is a valuable individual. Valued Possession – A photograph of his mother and father together, with “I am sorry, but this is goodbye. I love you. –Pierce XOXO” written on the back. Life Events: Age 17 – Found a Sensei (Ashitaka Isamu, born August 21st, 1957 – 10th Dan Jūdōka). High School Student Age 18 – Made enemies with a low ranking for corporate exec for causing him great humiliation and significant damage to his reputation. Joined the United States Marine Corps. Age 19 – Made enemies with a superior officer who was exploiting men in her unit for her own personal gain. Brought it up higher and exposed her. Had a personal vendetta against Tyler. Marine Infantry. Age 20 – Nothing notable happened this year. Age 21 – Made enemies with his uncle (Travis Guerrero, born November 22nd, 1979) after a confrontation on leave. Whilst in a drunken stupor, instigated that Tyler was the cause of his mother’s death. Things escalated and ended on bad terms. Returns from leave and deployed to a combat zone. Involved in a massive explosion; massive internal damage, loss of left eye, left arm (at the forearm), and left leg (at the thigh). Clinically dead for one minute, thirty-nine seconds (a very long time to be, well… dead). Resuscitated and rebuilt. Marine Infantry. Age 22 – Honorable discharge from United States Marine Corps (as a sergeant). Rekindled relationship with an old high school sweetheart (Macy Dailey, born March 7th, 1995). Nothing romantic… yet. Joined the Los Angeles Police Department as a police sergeant due to prior military service. Age 23 – Made a friend and a mentor in the police force, Detective Jacob Gale. Age 24 – Reconciled friendship with uncle. Promoted to detective meritoriously. Age 25 – Made friends with a new recruit, fresh from the police academy, Officer Franklyn Nakamura. Weapons: Colt AMT Model 2000 Sternmeyer Stakeout 10 Monosharpened KA-BAR Fighting Knife (a holdover from the USMC) 15" Retractable Police Baton Brass Knuckle Duster (a personal item) Skills: Pistol Marksmanship Rifle Marksmanship Interrogation/coercion Streetwise Awareness/notice Martial Art – Judo Weight Training Pain Conditioning Augmentations: Cyber Eye, Left – Telescopic Lens, Micro-optics, Infrared, Targeting Scope Cyber Arm, Left – Superchrome® finish, tool hand Cyber Leg, Left – RealSkinnTM finish, hidden holster (for Colt AMT) Equipment: On any given patrol, Tyler will have all five of his weapons either on his person or in his patrol vehicle. The two firearms are always fully loaded with one extra magazine apiece to spare and an additional five magazines apiece in the squad car’s trunk. In terms of armor, a Kevlar T-shirt worn as an undershirt with a heavy Kevlar laced jacket.

Prologue Une tempête venait. On a dit que les tempêtes sur les plaines silencieuses étaient pires que partout ailleurs. En quelque sorte alimentés par les énergies résiduelles de tout ce qui y est mort, canalisant la férocité du dieu mort dont l'entaille corrompait encore les terres jusqu'à ce jour même. Pourtant, Ovra ne s'en souciait pas. Elle pouvait sentir la promesse d'électricité dans l'air. Il a fait lever les poils sur ses bras, une éruption de chair d'oie rampant sur sa peau. Un vent sec rempli de cendres sur son visage. Des brins de cheveux éparpillés dans un tourbillon mouvant de rouge. Elle aimait surtout la foudre. Elle l'a appelée, comme aucun des autres éléments ne l'a fait, étourdissant sur la peau et les os avec une touche presque sexuelle. Cela faisait longtemps qu'ils n'avaient pas vu une bonne tempête. L'été avait été sec, et chaud, les champs se flétrissent sous le soleil brûlant. Un malade dont les origines pourraient être blâmées sur les apostats, les non-croyants, ou la fin du monde selon qui vous choisissez de croire. Hasmal, Ovra pensa sèchement, le vent de frêne se brossant contre ses joues constamment brûlées par le soleil. Tu nous pisse dessus encore et encore et pourtant on reste pour plus. Quel sacré tas de masochistes nous sommes. Supposons que nous n'ayons pas beaucoup de choix. Ovra conclut alors qu'elle regardait de nouveau son petit groupe. Leurs voix se taisent alors qu'elles bavardaient entre elles, alors qu'elles installaient le lent travail d'installation du camp pour la soirée. Elle aurait préféré rester plus près de l'autoroute impériale, mais avec leur contrat actuel, ils n'auraient pas une telle chance. Essayer de trouver la Rose Silent Plains toujours illusoire, pour un herboriste nevarran qui essayait de perfectionner une sorte de potion d'immortalité. Au cours des deux dernières semaines, tout ce qu'ils avaient gagné de l'aventure, c'était de la cendre et de la poussière logées parmi leurs insondables et la morsure occasionnelle des meutes errantes des hasts qui appellent la maison des Plaines. Shok et Erinya ayant le plaisir de faire face à la plus récente série de coupures et de contusions qu'ils avaient accumulées plus tôt ce jour-là, lorsqu'ils ont couru une infâme d'un jeune taureau wyvrn sur lequel ils avaient inconsciemment trébuché sur le territoire. Ovra ne pouvait toujours pas avoir l'odeur de son souffle empoisonné de ses narines. Des jours comme aujourd'hui, il était difficile de justifier pourquoi ils l'ont fait. Des pics de fleurs glorieuses qui n'ont même pas trouvé de fleur. Mais, le travail a assez bien payé et c'était une rareté de nos jours. Pourtant, il n'a pas fallu un génie pour voir que assez tôt les Breakers seraient comme le sol sur lequel ils se tenaient, les vestiges oubliés d'un temps perdu. Bran étant parti il y a un peu plus d'un mois, il ne restait plus que sept d'entre eux et, c'était quelqu'un qui devinait combien de temps le reste d'entre eux resterait. C'est à ce moment-là qu'Ovra a vu quelque chose. Un scintillement du coin de l'œil, une perturbation à l'horizon, une perturbation qui s'approchait. Un nuage de cendres dispersé dans l'air, non pas par le vent ou un gros animal, mais par quelque chose de plus rapide et plus rapide - un cheval peut-être? Réflexivement Ovra a atteint la poignée de sa hache, sentant le cuir usé contre sa paume. Elle tourna la tête et cria en arrière vers les autres. Nous avons de la compagnie!

Art by Irma Suriani Ahmed Ovra Paerat Female | 33 | Dwarf Basic Info Birthplace Montsimmard, Orlais Appearance Short and fierce there is no doubt of Ovra's dwarven blood. Moving with surprising speed and refined dexterity, all supported by a muscular if not compact frame given her stature. Her skin is cast in tan hues, strange given the pallor of most of her kind, resultant from the life of traveler. It is not a pristine canvas though marked with scar tissue accumulated over the years. It all results in a sort of admirable stoic beauty akin to that of the mythic siren, beautiful and alluring to behold but probably best to keep your distance. A task that is harder said than done, given the constant welcoming grin the woman carries upon her face, though it is unsure if she is welcoming in you, or the ever constant specter of death that she enjoys teasing. Her red hair is kept relatively short, its choppy texture contrasting with the two braids she wears which are adorned with heavy metal rings that are emblazoned with dwarven script. They fall to either side of her eyes, two small orbs of green, that seem to be hiding something behind their ever present glimmer. Her clothing choices are muted in their coloring nothing to really draw the eye. Background The daughter of a well-regarded Blacksmith in Montsimmard. Her mother dying of consumption when she was young. She had a solid roof over head, her dad was a good man, and she didn't have to worry about where her next meal was going to come from. What was absent in trouble was instead replaced with tales. Her father, Ulin fancied himself something of a storyteller and young Ovra was of course, his most attentive audience member. Her favorite stories was that of her ancestor Tovka. Tovka, was a skilled smith, but her true passion came in smiting foes; both these skillsets would find use in the Fourth Blight in her role as one of the Stone's Bastards recruited by the Grey Warden Garahel. As Ulin told it, it was an epic tale of love and betrayal, glory and honor in such a way that would of made even the old Paragons proud. In the Tovka would die fighting off hordes of Darkspawn, to let Garahel escape and eventually slay the Archdemon. Her axe was all that was recovered, which still hung above the Paerat Smithy as a reminder of what they always starve to emmulate. Heart filled with such tales Ovra always sought out adventure. Rather spending her time exploring the streets and rooftops of Montsimmard than learning the ways of the smithy. Ovra's adventures would lead her into making acquaintances with some local troublemakers. Metaphorically and literally looked down on her for being a Dwarf, this pushed Ovra to keep on taking more and more dangerous dares to prove herself. Smear cow dung on the Guard Captain's bed, pick pocket the crotchety old merchant, things of that nature. After a while though they ran out of dares to give the girl, so she started to make up her own challenges to keep herself entertained. It would be one these "challenges' that would change her life. She had deiced to pick the pocket of a well off noble man that had been frequenting the market the past week. The older gentlemen who despite his fine wears, always traveled alone caught the eyes of Ovra as the perfect mark. This man was in fact Duke Yvain de Leclerc, a seasoned bardmaster. It is to go without saying that Leclerc was able to catch Ovra in the act. But still the young girls aptitude was admirable, and Dwarven entertainers were an exotic sight in Orlais, and if the nobles loved anything it was rare sights to behold. Leclerc with schemes already forming in his head would offer to train the girl in the ways of the Bard. And so in a week's time when Yvain was to head back to Val Royeaux, Ovra accompanied him. To his credit Ulin was as accepting as a parent could in the situation. As he knew in his heart that his young daughter would never be satisfied stuck in the confines of Montsimmard, for adventure was rooted in their blood after all. And so Ulin gifted his daughter with Tovka's axe so that her family would always be at her side. The next three years would be breaking down the girl she used to be and replacing it with the bard that she was to become. She was pushed physically to her limit, her sparring lessons beginning from day one with a sharpened blade, every cut and gash its own little lesson. She was to learn everything: poisons, history, architecture, musicianship, and even dining etiquette. For bard were not just spies and assassins, they were true masters of the Game itself. Yet maybe most importantly she was taught the most essential skill in a bard's repertoire, control. To repress and dictate her own feelings and thoughts, to not give away anything, to put up as mask as needed to conceal the truth. And in the winter of her third year, she was deemed ready. The life evidently wasn't meant to last. At the age of twenty two, Yvain was poisoned by one of his rivals, perishing shortly after. At this moment in time, Ovra could of done the sensible thing and picked up where Yvain had left off. She did after all have access to all his contacts, and allies. But for reasons unknown, Ovra slipped away into the night shortly after the funeral. Maybe it was simple wanderlust, but whatever it was Ovra was on the road again. She would go wherever the winds would take her, playing at roadside taverns to earn a meal and bed for the night, and occasionally supplementing her income with her... other skills Her travels would eventually take her to Hasmal. Her she would sign on to a job protecting a Merchant headed towards Starkhaven, since she was going that way anyway. The forming of the Breakers wasn't her idea, but she didn't oppose it either. She is something of a coordinator for the group these days, using her old contacts and skills to find them work. Personality Ovra's a difficult one to read, bard training does that of course. She projects this charismatic aura of sheer confidence about her, like nothing could ever go wrong as long as the dwarf's still standing. The jokes and witty remarks roll off her tongue with ease. And she's something of a shameless tease using her femininity and all its assets in matters of persuasion. In a way it all seems effortless. And truthfully it is. It's also all just another one of her lies, a mask like any other. There are signs of it of course the fact that in the ten years that some of her companions have known her, they know little about her past beside that she was born in Orlais. And how she can threaten a child at knife point and seemingly not feel bad about it. And yet even the aloof bardic demeanor is still a sort of mask. As below the surface are bubbling insecurities and regrets, kept ever in check through her training, but always present. The same insecurities that made her flee Orlais, and the same ones that wonder if she was ever a good person to begin with. Curriculum Vitae Years served 10 Profession Rogue | Bard Modius Operandi Ovra is very particular about making sure people are dead. So she prefers to keep up close and personal, with her hand axe and dagger. Skills - Move in Shadow: Ovra is an expert upon the honored past time of how not to be seen. - Bardic Lore: Jack of all trades, master of none. As a Bard you learn a little bit of everything. Small reference pools are for amateurs - Skulduggery: Poisons, Lockpicking, pickpocketing, eavesdropping. The Game frowns upon those who don't fight dirty. - Balladeer: Ovra knows how to hold a tune obviously. - She Knows a Guy: A deep web of contacts scattered throughout Thedas provide Ovra with some well needed insight. Important Relations: Ulin Paerat: Father, Smith, generally a good man. According to her contacts in Orlais her father is still doing fine. Ovra hasn't talk to him since she left though all those years ago. Worried that he would be disappointed in what she has become. Tovka Paerat: Ovra's long dead ancestor. Despite her being born roughly over four hundred or so years ago, her shadow still hangs over Ovra as she ever still tries to live up to the example she set so long ago. Laelius Juventius: Magister of the Imperium, Merchant, Slaver, and a terrible player of Wicked Grace. A prominent member of the particular sphere of the underworld within the northern Free Marches and southern Tevinter. The two met when Ovra was still in Orlais and Laelius was visiting the country on business. They been assoicates ever since. Duchess Amelya de Leclerc: Yvain's wife and now widower. The bard and duchess are on friendly enough terms still to this day. Though their relationship never really progress beyond one of business as Amelya saw Ovra as just another member of the help. After Yvain's death their relationship warmed if only slightly and they still exchange regular correspondences with one another. Thoughts: This space intentionally left blank. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition - 1x Handaxe Silverite: The ancestral weapon of her family given to her by her Father. A treasured companion through rough times. - 1x Dagger Steel Spells & Sorcery N/A Clothing & Armor 1x Fitted Leather Armor 1x Worn Traveler's Boots 1x Traveler's Cloak, Dark Brown 2x flax pants, 1x cotton pants 2x cotton shirts, 1x flax shirt Tools & Things 1x Fine Antivan Lockpicks 1x Lute 1x Herbalist Kit 1x Needle and Thread Potions & Poultices 2x Health Potions 2x Rock Armor Tonic 4x Antivan Fire Grenade Ingredients & Rations 4x Bundles of Deathroot 2x Vial of Venom ?x Hardtack Does she conjure up more with some sort of magic? Nobody knows but she certainly has a lot of it. 1x Waterskin Bags & Pouches 1x Large Sized Traveler's Pack *Dwarf Sized* 1x Potion Belt 1x Herbalist Pouch Odds & Ends 1x Bundle of Letters

Alors que les Oathbreakers traversaient les petites forêts et se rendaient dans les Plaines Silentes, le burly Dwarf Garlenn se moquait d'une chanson bâclée appelée 'Tavern Wench and the Cucumber'. Bien qu'il n'ait pas chanté d'autres mots qu'une phrase de temps en temps, laissant tout le monde avoir l'encre de la chanson dans leur tête et revendiquant son innocence avec leurs esprits de gouttière s'ils ont parlé contre son chant. Une fois qu'il était temps d'installer le camp, Garlenn a fait une remarque sur le fait qu'il était utilisé pour le travail manuel contrairement à certains, se référant à son statut antérieur de casteless. Sans attendre d'entendre un retour des autres, il s'est mis à trouver le bois pour le feu, en utilisant sa grande hache pour pirater les branches épaisses des arbres qui semblaient bien brûler. Sa hache n'était pas faite pour couper le bois, mais elle a assez bien fonctionné. Très vite, il rapporta quatre morceaux de bois de taille moyenne et diverses rameaux plus petites, les plaçant dans une pile rugueuse. Une fois qu'il les a eus ensemble et placés dans le bon ordre, avec les plus gros membres croisés et les plus petits pour plus de combustion, il a commencé à allumer le feu. C'est-à-dire, jusqu'à ce qu'Ovra à l'avant crie qu'ils ont fait venir des cavaliers. La cutthroat de Dwarven leva un sourcil épais, et se leva jusqu'à sa hauteur impressionnante, se dirigeant vers le haut pour se tenir avec Ovra, hache maintenant sur son dos et sa main gauche sur sa ceinture. La main droite se reposait confortablement derrière son dos, un poignard de lancer s'y trouvait juste au cas où leur nouveau visiteur n'aurait pas de façon saine et malsaine à son sujet. Toujours impoli d'interrompre quelqu'un avant d'être festiné après tout, hein? "Vous n'avez pas de dettes dont vous nous avez parlé?" Garlenn a murmuré à Ovra slyly.

Garlenn Fellblade Male | 38 | Dwarf Basic Info Birthplace Orzammar Merchant District Appearance Garlenn is fairly large for a Dwarf, with broad shoulders that frame his trim body. He might still be short by human standards, his eyes level just above their belly button. However, he is nearly a head taller than most Dwarves, with the rugged and muscled body proportions to match. His skin is leathery and scarred in various places, particularly along his apeish arms (Not to mention the ritualistic tattoos of the Legion). If his body didn't tip you off how nasty of a piece of work he his, Garlenn's constant shit eating grin will be the nail in the coffin. His thick head is covered in a truly massive amount of blonde hair, both atop and on his chin, both similarly braided as well. Background Born as a casteless Dwarf who grew up in poverty, Garlenn's parents had shamed themselves and had lost their positions as merchants, leaving him in squalor. When he was eight, they decided to flee to the surface to garner a better life for themselves, but traveling through the Deep Roads, Garlenn wandered off and became lost due to an inherent curiosity. Unfortunately, this led to his losing his parents and only finding Orzammar again through sheer luck, essentially leaving him stranded and thought dead by his mother and father. With no one to take care of him, the Casteless youngster had to fight for every scrap of food or shelter he could get his hands on from an early age, even going so far as to committing murder by the age of sixteen over a lost cache of food. He'd never forget the wet blood on his hands, and the feeling of disgust that it brought him. Worst come to worst...he was a Dwarf. To kill one of his fellow stone dwellers shook him. He needed an out, but he did not know how to get to the surface world. At first he left the Casteless sections, stealing, exploring the deep roads for abandoned valuable, and trying his hand at dealing under the table with merchants. It was profitable for a time, but after a few years, he felt he was digging himself into a debt hole. Stone curse it, he couldn't maintain such a lifestyle, and on a whim one drunken night, he knew what he was to do. Garlenn joined the Legion of the Dead, and he and his fellows fought for every inch of ground to regain useage of the Deep Roads. Garlenn was among the most feircesome of fighters in the Legion. For despite his underhanded nature, he found he did value his race and homeland. What's more, Garlenn felt he had a real knack with handling weapons and throwing his weight around in a fight, being far quicker than most would expect as well. He fought and bled for his people within the Deep Roads, almost seeing it as a way to atone for his criminal acts. Large Darkspawn incursions and pockets of nameless beasts of the deep died by his axe, and the axes of his fellows. He spent nearly a decade in the Deep, and kept it up until there was nary any Dwarves left in his particular group save he and three others after a particularly large and bloody campaign. The Darkspawn in that attack was truly overwhelming, and as he saw an Ogre tear apart one of his dearest friends, he had an epiphany. When he found out that his luck had him survive, he realized that no one but he would drink to his friend's death. No one would care if he was slain. Yes, that was apart of the responsibility of the Legion, but it was not individual glory he sought. He sought for he and his fellows to be acknowledged at all. Instead they were treated as already deceased. He had felt looked down upon his entire life, and after having served his nation, and seeing what he had seen...now that his pent up energy and anger had been expended in blood lust, he saw it clearly. Well fuck that. The stone take them all! He'd rather the surface world instead, and since he knew how to traverse the Deep Roads now, so he went, becoming a deserter. He made his way to the surface, and decided to make his living as a mercenary and informant, traveling across Ferelden and Orlais, killing bandits, beasts, and all manner of enemies, finding the Oathbreakers and becoming the resident Darkspawn expert. Personality Those not used to the dark aspects of the world might consider Garlenn reprehensible. But to those who've seen the horrors of war and poverty, he's a fine companion and even amusing in his own way. Garlenn is boisterous and quick witted, always ready for a physical or verbal scrap. Killing and stealing is a profitable business for this savvy minded son-of-the-stone, and he does sometimes take pleasure in it, admittedly. However he isn't malevolent, per say. There aren't many cruel acts he commits out of sheer hatred. 'Nothing personal' he'll say. Indeed, the foes he most enjoys slaying are Darkspawn. Curriculum Vitae Years served 4 Bloody Years Profession Warrior Modius Operandi Garlenn will either be on the front lines reaping havoc with his Axe, or behind enemy lines to slit a few throats and break a few necks...before reaping havoc with his Axe. Skills Veteran Blade: Garlenn is good in a fight, using any means necessary to win. Terrain, his bulk, a low blow... Skullduggery: Rumors, contact information, underhanded deals, threats, whatever it takes to win. Cunning: Garlenn knows how to hold the high ground in a conversation, and can see an opportunity to exploit at every turn. Tough Hide: Garlenn should have been killed thrice over, but he's a bit too stubborn to die. He can take a cut and a punch, and fight through a stab if need be. Important Relations: Ragni Gildenhands: An opportunistic Dwarven dignitary that Garlenn holds contact with in the underground of Orlais, helping each other with information on good business opportunities between the surface and the stone without the greater population of Dwarves being burdened with such knowledge of where they get some of their precious goods. Marlienne: An Orlesian courtesan making her living in Denirim to wealthy merchants and nobles. Garlenn will sometimes help give her 'work' with contacts from Ragni, and in turn she provides Garlenn with the secrets they spill in bed. Galehar Swiftblade: Dalish Elf and former slave, and a known raider of merchant caravans. As long as Garlenn gets a profit and Galehar doesn't get too bloodthrirsty and kill innocents, Garlenn will sometimes provide him with new info on trade routes. Thoughts: Feelings on the other members of the group. To be filled in later. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition Large BattleAxe Long Knife 3 throwing daggers. Clothing & Armor Breastplate & Pauldrons Belted Tunic and trousers Gauntlets Combat Boots Tools & Things 6 Lockpicks 12 Caultrops Grappling hook and 35 ft of rope. utility belt . Potions & Poultices 3 health potions 2 fire bombs 2 smoke bombs Ingredients & Rations 5 pounds of jerky Water jug Large 10 OZ. Flask Bags & Pouches Satchel 5 interwoven pouches on belt. Odds and Ends ...

Qui veut vivre éternellement? Erinya s'est demandé en changeant les pansements sur les blessures qu'elle a soufferts de ce wyvern abandonné par les dieux qu'ils ont trébuché il y a quelque temps. Ils devraient louer tout Dieu, tous les jours, si personne n'a montré de signes d'empoisonnement, après que toute la bête soit connue pour son venin. Elle et les Qunari, Shok, ont pris le plus de dégâts pendant le combat, rien ne menaçant la vie encore en combattant un wyvern est toujours un pinceau proche de la mort afin qu'ils devraient se considérer extrêmement chanceux. En plus, elle pourrait ajouter wyvern aux bêtes qu'elle a combattues et besties. Ou je peux? Est-ce que j'ai déjà combattu un wyvern? J'en étais un, peut-être? Aurais-je pu être le Créateur, créer des wyverns? Elle a pensé, comme elle a paumé une petite quantité d'eau sur une blessure particulièrement mauvaise morsure sur sa cheville, nettoyer la poussière toujours présente de lui. Du ghasts au wyvern, la compagnie a eu le voyage assez dur dans les Plaines Silentes, à la recherche de la Rose Silent Plains toujours insaisissable, mais ils ont collé à travers elle, ils avaient fait face à pire. Et Erinya n'avait pas vraiment de problèmes, ayant passé une bonne partie de sa vie dans les Anderfels, le temps était le moindre de ses soucis. Il ne leur a pas offert la sécurité de la forêt, mais vous pouviez voir toute menace de loin, donc il y avait une certaine sécurité dans cela, au moins. "Est-ce que nous sommes les bêtes ou les wyvernes?" Elle chuchotait, une vague soudaine de pensées l'écrasant. « Nous sommes des intrus chez eux, des bêtes sauvages que nous appelons. On les massacre, merciles, nos vies ont plus de valeur que les leurs. Mais nous serions fiers de nous tenir debout, si nous faisions le meilleur d'un envahisseur sur nos terres. Qu'est - ce qui rend certaines vies plus importantes que d'autres? Savage? Vous voyez? Peut-être le goût. Bien que nous n'ayons pas encore eu l'Homme, n'est-ce pas, Dame des Anders?" Elle n'arrêtait pas de se raser, ses yeux fixés sur une goutte de sang, son sang, courant sur son pied et se mélangeant avec les terres sèches qu'ils menaçaient. Ses paroles n'étaient pas tout à fait les siennes, ses pensées n'étaient pas tout à fait les siennes, son esprit n'était pas tout à fait les siennes. Elle a entendu Ovra crier et la prise son esprit avait pris sur elle cassé à la fois. Elle a saisi son arc et a mis son carquois sur son dos alors qu'elle se dirigeait vers le Nains qui cherchait aussi la poignée de son arme. Garlenn était déjà à ses côtés, regardant aussi vers la perturbation à l'horizon, encore bien trop loin pour faire ce qui allait arriver, qu'il s'agisse de bête ou d'homme. "Vous n'avez pas de dettes dont vous nous avez parlé?" Erinya n'avait aucun sentiment, à l'égard de l'ami ou de l'ennemi. "Je vais me mettre en position." Elle grondissait tout simplement, son visage était déterminé et prêt. C'était peut-être le jour. C'était peut-être sa dernière bataille. Peut-être... Gagnez-le.

Erinya - Ishanni ♀ | 34 |Elf-Blooded Human Basic Info Birthplace Wandering Hills, Anderfels Appearance Erinya is of slighty more than average height, with a very slender physique. Her long black hair vastly contrast with her -nowadays- pale skin. She looks completely human despite her partly Elven origin although the angular features of her face can remind someone of an Elf. Her striking blue eyes, almost gray, are her best feature as many have said. All in all, Erinya used to be a beauty you don't meet everyday, especially in the lands she was born in. However, life hasn't treated her well and that shows. Her face looks pale and gaunt, full of freckles and proof of the hard times she's been facing in both her days and nights. Her vibrant black hair now look sickly and weak and her eyes have lost their spark. Her once slender body now looks fragile, ready to fall to the winter. But she's strong, she's a survivor, always has been. Background Erinya was conceived somewhere in the southern-most parts of the Brecilian Forest, according to Mother's parting letter. Her father, some random Dalish Elf who fell in love with the witch or as Mother put it "...fell in love because I was something he had never seen before". Her mother, one of the infamous Chasind and quite possibly a witch, she never admitted to it. For some unknown reason of hers, Mother travelled all the way to the arid and barren Anderfels, one of the literally worst places one can live and raise a child in, settled among the Orth tribe of the Wandering Hills and soon after, she gave birth to Erinya right in the middle of summer. Growing up is hard and growing up in the Anderfels is much, much harder. From the constant threat of Darkspawn, the scarcity of food, scarcity of law, scarcity of life in general to the often deadly weather itself. Erinya was around 8 when her mother made her watch a genlock slaughter an innocent old man before she sent an arrow right between its eyes as it had just noticed them. "Earn it." she said, "Earn your right to stand and defend it until Death himself comes to take you." She never forgot her words, not really. Eight year old Erinya wasn't shocked nor scared, not even scarred. She understood at that moment, how fair the world is through its unfairness. Some are born to suffer, others to live in pleasure. Some are as important as a bucket with a hole and others make their names echo for all eternity. The Orth took them both in as their own, they faced no prejudice, ever, thus mother and daughter both considered themselves a part of the tribe. Erinya learned how to use the bow and the dagger, how to hide in plain sight and how to survive without water from them, her body getting much more exercise than she needed since a very young age. They taught her everything they taught their own younglings and even more as was somewhat of a prodigy, her ability with a bow matching that of the tribes's best marksmen. By her 11th birthday, Erinya had already killed a genlock, didn't even blink when she saw the arrow slide right through the opening of it's rusty helmet, she was already preparing another arrow for its also unlucky ally. Soon, she and her mother left the Anderfels and stayed for almost a year in the Korcari Wilds where her mother introduced her to her people, the Chasind, who taught her the ways of the forest and of the tribe. Erinya always had a mind that easily took in new things and this time wasn't different. They travelled back home, as she felt about the Anders, and once again joined the tribe she had grown with. That also didn't last as Mother disappeared one day, leaving behind only a letter written in Chasind where she wished her luck and gave some information about why she left that Erinya hasn't told anyone. As the years passed and Erinya was now an adult and a very important part of the tribe, it didn't take long for her to receive various marriage proposals from the tribe's up and coming singles. But ambition burned inside of her and staying in the Wandering Hills for her whole life was never an option. Quietly, without any fuss, she packed and left on one especially hot and humid night. She made her way to the capital, Hossberg, where she met Anteus, a mercenary of the Green Men, a band comprising of the best marksmen in Thedas meant to protect caravans travelling towards the distant port of Leysh through these always dangerous lands. After convincing him that she had the potential to be in the company, she joined them and led the life of a mercenary, through its many ups and downs for three years, until one fateful day a couple of months after her 22nd birthday when they came across a group of Grey Wardens fending off a particularly large band of Darkspawn. Their combined forces saved the day and the caravan with minimal loss of life yet the highlight was Erinya, saving the Senior Warden Taliesin's life by shooting down a bolt headed towards him mid air. Now, she knew of the Order of the Grey and always held them in high regard but never did she seriously think about joining them. "It's not a profession, it's a Calling." the Warden told her before inviting her back to Weisshaupt with him, as a Warden-Recruit. She was pretty happy with her life but she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't meant to be just a mercenary either. So she said yes and soon enough, the magnificent headquarters of the Order stood in front of her. There were five other recruits alongside her, all hand picked by Taliesin. One of them was Taliesin's son, Feodor, the man she would end up marrying and conceiving a child with, in the night they spent together before their Joining. They were the only ones to survive the Joining and Erinya was now one of the Grey, something which gave her purpose and filled her with the ambition to use her skills for helping the people of the Anderfels. The next four years of her life were quite possibly her best, she was truly happy. They planned their future with Feodor and for the following months the two Wardens would travel on their own throughout the Anderfels, helping everyone they could while falling deeper and deeper in love with each other, until the effects of pregnancy brought her back to Weisshaupt where she gave birth to a healthy girl, Elleria. They eventually got married and Taliesin took her as his daughter, naming her Ishanni, the name of his long dead wife. She felt that she belonged, this was her little family and she would do everything in her hand to make the world a safer place for her daughter and her husband as well as the people. Soon enough, Erinya or Ishanni, was well enough to start travelling again, with Elleria being taken care of by her grandfather, Taliesin, since in her own head, while she did miss moments she would never get back, she was certain that the world her daughter would live in, would be safer. This went on for a few months until the couple decided to settle down in the Wandering Hills where rareky Grey Wardens ever set foot due to its remote location and lack of importance, to be frank. The three lived there together, growing and maturing. No dream lasts forever though. It was an ordinary call for help like many others but this time, a father of four was possessed and threatening to burn his children alive along with his house. And Erinya just wouldn't allow that to happen. She used her deathroot extract to enter a deep trance combined with an Elven ritual Feodor knew, certain he would drive the demon back, proud of her skills and prowess regardless of the fact that it was the first time she was entering the Fade. She did manage to drive the demon back and the farmer was safe as well as his kids. So was Feodor. But she wasn't. Countless voices starting vying for her attention soon after, her dreams started being plagued by nightmares and soon she even started seeing visions of horrible things. Feodor, worried about her, immediatelly wrote to his father who begun the long trek to the Wandering Hills alongside two Warden mages, certain that Erinya had been possessed. They weren't fast enough. They found her soaked in blood, clutching little Elleria's corpse for dear life, Feodor also dead on their bed, his throat slit, whispering incoherent things, crazed. She doesn't really know what happened before or what happeed next, she's certain that she died with them, with her people. She has no clue why she still wakes up despite being dead. On her way to the Circle located in Hossberg in order for her to be kept under the watchful eye of the mages, she escaped and ran, ran as far as her feet could take her and lost track of time. She could have been roaming for months, maybe years, with no recollection of what she did or how she survived. But she did survive and found herself joining a band of mercenaries, the Oathbreakers, her best bet to avoid anyone asking too many questions or coming across familiar faces. She was an outlaw after all and a particularly dangerous one, at that. And there has she been until today, fighting and living, day after day, a usually empty husk of a person driven by instinct and some sort of twisted willpower, barely having any memories of anything at all. Personality Erinya usually isn't someone you can talk to. Aloof and talking to herself or disappearing for hours at a time, speaking in riddles and acting without the least bit of logic. She rarely ever is herself and those moments are the worst because that's when she remembers. That's when she realizes. That's when it all comes rushing back and she denies herself the pleasure of slitting her own throat or just falling on the first blade she finds drawn against her. "You gotta earn it." she keeps repeating to herself, gotta earn death. Only time you can somewhat get a glimpse of just who she was is during battles when her training takes over and her face looks more like the Grey Warden of the Anders who had saved countless lives and less like a complete, Fade-Touched, lunatic. Curriculum Vitae Years served •5 years, 11 months and 8 days. Profession Rogue | Ranger Modius Operandi Erinya rarely ever dirties her hands with blood in gruesome melee. Her bow and arrows never failed her and she intends to keep it that way. Being a master ranger makes her always capable of finding a suitable location to oversee the battle and send her arrows flying in order to support her allies first and rain fury on her enemies second. Skills •Ranger's Boon: Summon Wolf / Bear / Spider.* •Green Men Represent: One of the best marksmen in Thedas. •Chasind Survivalist: When in the woods, Erinya is always the hunter, never the hunted. Stealthy, agile and with a knack for ambushes as well as capable of finding everything she needs to survive. •Fade-Touched: Since she entered the Fade almost eight years ago in order to try and fight a demon who had possessed a single father of four, she hasn't been all there. Visions, voices, vivid dreams, Erinya has been plagued by them. •Multilingual: Erinya, other than being fluent in Common, can also speak Dalish, Ander as well as Chasind. *ᴰᵉᵖᵉᶰᵈᶦᶰᵍ ᵒᶰ ᶫᵒᶜᵃᵗᶦᵒᶰ⋅ Important Relations: •Taliesin Far-Eye: Senior Grey Warden, last known location was the Order's HQ, Weisshaupt Fortress. Taliesin was Fedor's father and the one who conscripted her into the Grey Wardens. •Mother: Of Chasind origin and almost certainly a witch, Erinya's mother is probably still alive, back in the Korcari Wilds, home of her people. They haven't been in contact since she left Erinya, right after her 13th birthday. Thoughts: •Shok: Erinya never really had enough of an interest in the Qunari, in order to want to find out more about them yet Shok, for the short time he's been with the company, has always been eager to share his knowledge. She enjoys his straightforward manner and is proud to shed blood along side him. •Garlenn Fellblade: Erinya always felt that the Dwarf has been a kindred spirit, a fellow veteran of the ever-present Darkspawn threat and someone who always followed his own path in life, no matter how difficult that appeared to be. She trusts him with the lives of anyone in the Oathbreakers and gladly follows him into battle. •Krios: If you wanna see how much of a good hand you've been dealt in life, join a mercenary company." Erinya always said. She knows that Krios carries a deep sorrow and a heavy burden, she can see it in his eye and the Avvar warrior can probably see the same in her. She always enjoys sharing some ale with him while talking shit about the Chantry. •Aseema Viranni: The Elf has been among the Oathbreakers pretty much since they were formed yet this kind of profession has yet to corrupt her childlike curiosity, the way she lights up whenever something that interests her, is brought up. Erinya likes her, she's one of the more light-hearted of the group and enjoys delving into Elven history with her. •Ovra Paerat: Having been in the Oathbreakers the most, Erinya has become familiar with the Dwarf, she has been there since day one and pretty much runs the company. She hasn't really bonded with her though, the Bard has her secrets and Erinya has hers. Yet she's part of their group, spilling blood and sweat together and Erinya will fight for her like any other. •Eirny: The Elf has been one of the newer members of the company thus Erinya isn't as familiar with her as with the rest. However, she's keeping an eye on her, as she doesn't think the City Elf has really tasted the true bitterness of the road, bloodshed and all. According to her story, she's led a pretty sheltered life for a mercenary, Erinya feels. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition •Ma Vhenan: What can be said for Erinya's bow? Created by one of the greatest woodsmiths among the Dalish, it is made to fit her hands perfectly, a priceless wedding gift from her husband and his family which has served her greatly through the years. Comes with a 21-arrow quiver and the runes inscribed on it carry the motto of the Grey Wardens as well as the Elven name given to Erinya during her wedding. •1x Generic Steel Dagger •1x Quiver •21x Steel Tipped Fine Elven Arrows. Clothing & Armor •Warden Scout's Tunic: Despite having deserted the Grey Wardens for her reasons, Erinya still practically lives in her Warden days armor although it's not as clean these days and there's thick leather sewn all over it in order not to give away this part of her past. Too much attention would be fatal as she's still a wanted woman. •1x Thick Leather Thigh-High Boots •1x Flax Shirt, 1x Flax Pants •1x Traveler's Cloak, Dark Green Tools & Things •1x Bow, String & Arrows Repair and Maintenance Kit* •1x Needle & Thread •1x Wolf Whistle •1x Bear Lure •1x Spider Lure •1x Herbalism Kit *Oils and fine tools. Potions & Poultices •2x Health Potions •3x Injury Kits Ingredients & Rations •14x Deep Mushrooms •1x Waterskin •4x Crow Poison Vials •1x Quiet Death Vial •2x Flasks of Deathroot Extract Bags & Pouches •1x Medium Sized Traveller's Backpack. •2x Vial Pouch Odds and Ends •1x Steel Weathered Grey Warden insignia •1x Diary •1x Dirty Ol' Child's Doll •2x Wedding Rings •1x Chasind Bone Medallion

Eirny a été absorbé dans une seule page couverte par divers écrits et esquisses: diverses notes dérivées à la fois crédibles et non sources sur l'endroit où la Rose de la Plaine Silent aurait été trouvée. C'était une chose curieuse, dont elle n'avait même pas entendu parler pendant son temps d'étude dans le Cercle. Beaucoup de gens ont juré que c'était réel tandis que d'autres riaient, l'appelant un vieux conte d'herboriste. Les dessins ont été obtenus à partir des descriptions abondantes qu'on lui avait données sur la rose. Encore une fois, les « faits » étaient peu nombreux, loin de là, et souvent contradictoires. Elle ne savait pas quoi, si quoi que ce soit, ils trouveraient à la fin, elle espérait juste qu'ils trouveraient quelque chose bientôt. Cela avait déjà duré plusieurs jours et le voyage l'atteignait. Elle regardait maintenant les autres dans sa fête. Beaucoup d'entre eux ont grizzlé et testé des aventuriers à part entière. Même leur nouveau membre, Shok, semblait mieux adapté au style de vie. Eirny savait qu'elle était souvent celle qui les ralentissait, bien qu'elle ait fait de son mieux pour passer aussi longtemps et aussi vite qu'elle le pouvait. Cela fait déjà un an qu'elle a rejoint les mercenaires, et bien qu'elle se sente certainement plus à l'aise maintenant qu'elle savait qu'elle avait encore un long chemin à parcourir. Elle s'est rappelée qu'elle ne serait pas là si elle n'en avait pas besoin. Juste l'idée des événements qui ont conduit à son apostasie a suffi à lui faire feu dans la poitrine. Une petite lumière dansait à la périphérie de sa vision maintenant, pas vraiment présente mais se montrant à elle au cas où elle aurait besoin de l'appeler. Elle s'était habituée à l'entrée et à la sortie des wisps et c'était leur façon de lui dire qu'ils étaient proches; c'était toujours un peu plus réconfortant de savoir qu'on gardait sa compagnie. Les sons du groupe la mettent encore plus à la maison, même dans ces environs. Le sable était désagréable à dire le moins et une tempête menaçait de se briser bientôt. Néanmoins, les sons de chant, de chant, de camp et de guffaw occasionnels ont ramené des souvenirs de ce que la vie pouvait être. C'était une famille étrange, mais c'était à elle maintenant. Shok et Erinya n'avaient pas besoin de son aide pour nettoyer, réparer ou envelopper leurs blessures aujourd'hui, mais elle gardait néanmoins un œil inquiet pour eux. Il n'est jamais mal d'avoir un deuxième avis, surtout en ce qui concerne les wyverns. Des bêtes fascinantes mais mortelles. Comme devenait l'habitude, Eirny regardait Shok travailler si aucune aide n'était nécessaire; elle offrait toujours son aide, bien sûr, voulant être utile, mais était plus qu'heureux de regarder chaque fois qu'on lui refusait. Jamais l'étudiant, c'était toujours intéressant de voir une façon nouvelle ou différente de faire les choses. Le nain appelé Garlenn commençait à mettre le feu à un camp. Maintenant semblait aussi bon un temps que n'importe qui pour commencer à déballer son lit roulant, quand Ovra a lancé un cri. Elle regarda Garlenn et Erinya se mettre rapidement en position. Ne voulant pas prendre du retard encore une fois, Eirny a pris son étau avec une position de préparation à partir de l'arrière. Elle avait une bonne vue d'ici et elle voulait s'assurer qu'elle était dans une meilleure position pour aider à soutenir et défendre que le dernier combat. "Qu'est-ce qu'on a?" Elle n'était pas sûre si quelqu'un avait un bon regard sur qui ou quoi que ce soit s'approchait, mais Eirny s'efforçait maintenant de regarder dans la direction qu'Ovra semblait affronter.

Eirny Female | 29 | Elven Basic Info Birthplace Val Royeaux Alienage Appearance Eirny stands at an unimpressive 5'2" and has a wiry physique. Her most notable features--besides the large, pointed ears--are her ivory hair and her amethyst eyes. She keeps a few long wisps of hair dangling at the front of her face, more often than not found braided, knotted, or beaded away from her eyes while the rest of her hair is kept short as a bob. Her complexion is light as it is with most of her kind and pasted with freckles here or there. Background Born to a pair of poor city elves in Val Royeaux's extensive alienage, Eirny spent most of her dawn years learning with her peers at the vhenadahl or in some small home or other when it was available. There were so many packed in that the smaller children often sat in the laps of the elder ones to conserve space. In her first ten years of life, she never questioned the way things were done even when some of the children went missing; perhaps they died of illness which was not uncommon within such cramped quarters or perhaps they went somewhere more interesting. Eirny would invent her own stories sometimes for where they went. Perhaps they had gone to join their wilder, freer brothers and sisters in the forests, or maybe they strayed too far and Fen'Harel snatched them up. Sometimes tiny lights came to her when she was alone and whispered stories about where her friends had gone; however, the stories they told were always vague and sometimes nonsensical. Occasionally, one of the stories would upset her and the spirits would glow soothingly to calm her worries. Whatever the case, her parents told her not to think about it and assured her she would never leave them. It wasn't until her early teens when her aptitude for magic became more apparent--particularly of the spirit sort--that Eirny was taken from her home to the White Spire for training and harrowing. The Chantry and its Templars became a constant presence in her life during her stay, and she grew to hate and love them in her own ways. She found one or two of the friends that went missing from the alienage here, and it made the transition a bit easier. One particular new friend she made was her mentor, Rhys, who was very skilled at interacting with wisps and spirits such as she had. He along with a few important others safely guided her through training and interacting with her innate spirit magics and eventually through her successful Harrowing. Like many mages, she does not talk of the demon(s) or other things she saw while in the Fade. A few weeks later, it was one of her alienage friend's Harrowing. His trial seemed to go on for days, and the wisps that came to her hinted at him weakening. It was a week before she saw him again, but by then he was Tranquil. It hurt her heart in ways she hadn't expected. She had known Tranquil before him and they all seemed content with their lot in life; her friend, Aesin, did now, too, but he wasn't the same. The light from his eyes was gone, sometimes it seemed like he did not even notice her, and her wisps refused to go near him. The Spire was the largest Circle in Orlais, possibly in all of Thedas, yet Eirny never felt more suffocated in her life. Even her life in the alienage paled in comparison. She began to throw herself into her studies of healing magics in the hopes of finding some lost way to help Aesin, something the others may have overlooked or hidden. She was almost like a woman possessed as she would study tomes, writings, and rituals for days on end. In time, she became a very skilled spirit healer but was not one step closer to discovering anything to help her friend. As with all spirit healers, the more skilled she became the more demons tried to entice her. Many promised they could cure her friend if she only brought them over. Eventually, repeated disappointments with avenues of study and relentless demonic propositions drove her to avoid her friend and the thought of him altogether. Eirny was a highly respected and trusted member of the White Spire's Circle by this time. While far from an expert, she was well-versed in healing magics and spirits by this point. Having seen the dangers of demons firsthand, she was an ardent supporter of the Chantry, the Templars, and the Circle. While she struggled with the fate of her friend, in the end she knew that it was for the best if he could not control himself. Her heart still ached for the loss of his friendship, but she had to think that there was a reason behind it all. One night, as she lie resting in her bed, a Templar came to her room and ordered her up to follow him. As she wiped the sleep from her eyes, she hadn't the faintest idea what it all could be about but she had not reason to distrust. As ordered, she packed her belongings quickly and followed dutifully. When they were in the undercroft of the building, that was when she began to feel something wasn't right. She hesitated on the last steps before the murky waters below and the Templar turned back. When she questioned where they were going and what was happening, she was hit with a blinding force that echoed through her bones and knocked her unconscious. When she came to, she felt like she was on a moving vehicle. Her hands, mouth, and eyes bound, only the wisps around her attempted to explain the situation. She had grown to understand them better over the years and knew for sure now that this Templar did not have noble intentions; they told her he carried her blood and intended to sell her. It was a long trip before this was confirmed with her arrival in Hasmal. Here, she was to be sold, phylactery and all, but the deal went bad for the Templar and the slaver, with neither one of them ending up with the intended reward. This is all the story she ever told the Oathbreakers when she joined up a year ago. It was all the story she planned to ever tell unless otherwise coerced. Nevertheless, she assured them that her phylactery was destroyed in the struggle. An apostate now, she had no intention of returning to the White Spire or any Circle. Not after that night. Personality Eirny often comes off as somewhat distracted, but that can usually be explained by the wisps that pop in and out around her. Many times they are overlooked by passersby and so she appears to be listening to thin air, but she keeps her wits about her. She's at home with elves and humans the most, of course, as she grew up with them. Reserved on a few topics--such as her past--she is generally a fairly open person. She is direct in her speech unless finesse is called for and doesn't like to dance around a subject. Intelligent, quick to care for the injured, and slow to trust. Curriculum Vitae Years served 1 year Profession Mage | Spirit Healer Modus Operandi Filling the supporting role, you'll find her wherever the most help is needed, whether up front or in the rear. Skills Herbalism: allows Eirny to create potions, poultices, and salves using various ingredients. Herbal Lore: Eirny is able to identify most any type of plant, herb, or otherwise used in the creation of healing items. First Aid: Even without the use of her magics and poultices, Eirny is a talented nurse and caretaker. Streetwise: Being raised in the largest alienage—and in the largest city—in Orlais has its own perks; Eirny is comfortable moving in and interacting in large crowds. Speak with Spirits Since early age, Eirny has had wisps around her. With years of experience and guidance, she can give them simple commands and even puzzle out some of their simple thoughts. Important Relations: Rhys: Mentor, idol, friend. Helped Eirny come into her own understanding of her powers during her time at the White Spire. Aesin: Close friend from her childhood in the alienage. Before made Tranquil, she considered him her best friend, being one of few who truly understood where and what she had been through. She still mourns his loss. Caelis (father) & Aeryn (mother) of the Val Royeaux alienage: Eirny’s parents whom she assumes still live at the alienage. She hasn’t seen them since she was taken to the White Spire years ago. Parted on good terms with no siblings—at that time, anyways. Reginald: The Templar whom attempted to sell Eirny to slavers from the White Spire. His whereabouts and well-being are unkwnown to her following the incident. She assumes he would not tell anyone of his misdeed or how a mage and her phylactery strangely went missing on his watch... Thoughts: Aseema Viranni: A long time veteran of the Oathbreakers, Eirny thought she'd feel more comfortable near the elf who shares her knack for magic, but she just isn't the same as the elves back home. She's not quite how she pictured a Dalish elf, either, besides the vallaslin she wears and some of the words she speaks. While Aseema's experience is valued, more often than not Eirny feels very awkward and alien around her. Erinya/Ishanni: Eirny has a hard enough time forming her own opinion of Erinya without her wisps whispering incessantly in her ears. Even when she has moments of lucidity, the woman was an oddity to Eirny. The wisps are generally in such a frenzy when they talk about her that Eirny has trouble deciphering each thought. What she does know, however, is that she is ill in mind and body; Eirny is determined to help her if she can. Garlenn Fellblade: Her first impressions of the dwarf after joining were fairly favorable. Eirny found amusement in his glibness and loquaciousness. Her good opinion of him is somewhat injured by his ferociousness in combat. She fights because she has to now, not ever because she enjoyed it. Still, when out of combat, she almost feels a fondness of sorts towards the battered dwarf. Even without the physical evidence to show it, her spirits tell her he has many scars. Krios Ar Tae O Darkhold: Probably the most interesting human Eirny has ever met. Serious a good bit of the time, Eirny enjoys the moments when he laughs or cracks a smile at some witty comment one person or other has made. She finds him fascinating in that he is a warrior with some magical abilities but he feels very different from the Templars with whom she spent so much time in the Spire. His magic feels very familiar and even her wisps enjoy being around him. Ovra Paerat: Ovra makes Eirny wish she knew more dwarves early on in life. Out of all the ones she has met since leaving the Circle a year ago, Ovra was by far the most interesting of the group. Also quick with a quip, she never lacks for life or laughs to bring to the party. Sometimes her spirit friends whisper about the shadows that hang over her, but Eirny accepts that we are all flawed in our own ways. And anyways, Ovra has only ever been good to her since joining. Shok: One of the few recruits newer than herself, Eirny initially had a strong distaste for the Qunari. She hadn't met many, but he seemed more dour than most and add to that his use of blood magic. Her views were newly colored the first time she saw him work as a healer. She could see the passion he held for his craft as he worked, severely softening her opinion and even endearing her to him a bit. She appreciates his directness, though sometimes thinks he could do with some tact. Her spirits hum a sad song for him sometimes. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition Enchanter’s Staff (A gift from Rhys; kept well-wrapped when not in use) Iron dagger Spells Creation: Heal, Rejuvenate, Glyph of Paralysis, & Spell Wisp Spirit: Spell Shield & Mind Blast Spirit Healer: Group Heal Clothing & Armor Cloth robes with hood (as pictured above) Cloth gloves Leather boots Tools & Things Empty bottles for potion/poultice/etc. making Herbalism Kit Smelling salts Potions & Poultices Lesser injury kit x2 Injury kit x1 Healing Potion x2 Health Poultice x2 Lyrium Potion x2 Ingredients & Rations 3 days worth of dry rations Waterskin Roll of fresh herbs Bags & Pouches Reagent bag (holds herbs) Potion and empty bottle holder (holds 3 at a time) Cloth backpack (spare clothes, unequipped items, empty bottles, small camp roll and her various other belongings already listed) Odds and Ends A worn book Eirny is often seen reading. She keeps it safely wrapped and stashed in her backpack when not in use. A vial of spirit essence received during her time at the Circle.

Il y a quelque chose à propos de cet endroit qui est étrangement apaisant pour Aseema. Un endroit avec juste la bonne quantité d'obscurité, donnant presque un sentiment étrange et poignant. En regardant à l'horizon, elle a enfin une image vivante des Plaines Silentes, comme dans les histoires que le Gardien effrayerait les jeunes enfants qui se comportent mal. Je me souviens maintenant que c'était une histoire assez stupide pour une légende. Bien qu'il puisse sembler stupide, ça l'a encore mise à l'abri de dormir ici. En fait, elle n'aurait probablement pas autant fermé les yeux, juste pour s'assurer que Fen'Harel n'aura pas sa petite visite dans ses rêves ce soir. Entouré de quelques arbres morts, Aseema regarda les cieux inexplorés au-dessus de saisir son capot des vents infatigables, de temps en temps, le ciel scintille derrière les nuages. Une tempête est à l'horizon, semble-t-il. Elle faisait une promenade, s'assurant de ne pas aller trop loin du camping bien que, sachant que c'est une courte promesse vécue. Aseema ne manquerait pas de tout ce qui vaut la peine de regarder autour. Elle n'aimait pas être immobile, ses pieds deviendraient insupportables. Après qu'ils se soient mis en place, elle a insisté pour trouver des ressources. Nourriture, bois, trésor inhumé depuis longtemps, n'importe quoi. Partiellement, elle invente juste une excuse pour se lever et faire un peu d'exploration. Et elle en était d'une certaine façon productive aussi, sur la façon dont elle avait recueilli quelques baies sauvages et quelques brindilles pour le feu. Pour un endroit plutôt désolé, il semble être habité par le jeu dans la région. Elle n'était pas un chasseur comme sa mère, bien qu'elle ait souhaité qu'elle soit maintenant, alternativement elle devra faire en raison de ses capacités limitées de recherche de nourriture. Il lui a fallu un certain temps pour retourner au camp, principalement parce que la consistance étrange des souches et des arbres l'a fait marcher en rond pendant quelques bonnes minutes. C'est pourquoi elle retrace ses pas dans son journal, en prenant note de ses traces au cas où elle se perdrait mais cette fois ses mains étaient pleines. C'était jusqu'à ce qu'elle atteigne le bout du camp, elle a entendu Ovra appeler. De loin, elle l'a regardée alors seulement elle a remarqué la compagnie qui s'approchait. Elle se dirigea vers le camp et laissa tomber le sac en tissu de baies et enfila des brindilles de ses bras, et se joignit au groupe à l'horizon venteux. "J'espère qu'ils ne chercheront pas d'ennuis." Elle s'est moquée à haute voix.

Aseema Viranni Female| 26 | Elf Basic Info Birthplace The Dales Appearance A dark haired elf with a slender frame, soft features and a pale rosy complexion riddled with gentle freckles, Aseema sticks out a girlish charm given that she's fairly older than she actually looks. She cant even recall how many times the local guards mistake her to be some delinquent teenager on the streets and this would annoy her to an extent. Appearance wise she is fairly good looking though at most she wears her face uninvitingly, in a indifferent and frowning expression, undermining her true indicative beauty. Her eyes are most expressive, round and long lashed in a way that one could easily see though her even if she says so little. The elf considers this as one of her dire weaknesses as her helpless responses gives whatever she's hiding away so instantly and finds it a challenge to hide unnecessary feelings. Aseema hates the sun. From her experience, her pallid complexion is prone to the nastiest sunburns so most likely she dons over a cloak to keep her protected. Her hair is a dark wavy mess, usually tied up to keep it in place. Her choice of clothing would be robes and leathers, light enough to move around and protected at the same time. She carries around a satchel bag to contain her equipments. Background Aseema was practically born into keeperhood. While every mage born elf clamor and kill for at an opportunity, Aseema more likely considers it a misfortune rather than anything. This was never the case back when she was younger. As early as five her guardians instilled the fantasy and glamor of keeperhood, which the young Aseema fell for. It was hard training but she proved to be the best among her contenders. Aseema had very limited memory of her own parents. She never knew her father, who had died whilst defending the clan from slavers and her mother had to raise her alone until she disappeared one day. Her hunting pary went missing, and never knew what became of them. Only some speculations that they were intercepted by Tevinter slavers. She was then taken under the care of various relatives before officially becoming the keeper's first. One day she went exploring, a young Aseema happened to pass by an old abandoned home filled with nothing but old and worn out books. It was a shame for someone to leave them forlorn so as to not have them go to waste, and out of her own curiosity she secretly brought some back to the camp to read. Her interest of human books grew, from the pages she saw another world beyond the clan. It excited her, awakening the wanderlust within her and from then on fantasized of going to these worlds. She would regularly visit her favorite spot and contently indulge herself in literature all day. In many ways books had educated her about the world beyond the confines of her clan. The customs, the people, their clothing and politics. All these made her scrutinize the clan's own purposes, realizing how small and narrow they are compared. The dalish are a stagnant community, never really improving, nor learning anything new and Aseema knew from then on that she did not want to live that way. The isolation and limits of tradition dragged her, a concern she one day shared to her mentor. Yet the keeper was not so glad about what his young first had been mysteriously learning and later on found out that she had been bringing in foreign books inside the clan. He saw this as a distraction to her true duties, and ordered them to get rid off it. She was torn between her fate as the keeper, and her desire for adventure. Until one night of fitful argument had ultimately fixed her decision, on going on a spontaneous adventure that very next morning. Like any other young, naive and adventurous soul, Aseema stood by her desire to leave and hid on a carriage cart to be smuggled out the Dales, never looking back on the life she came to detest. It didn't take long for her to regret that decision however. The moment she was dropped to Hamsal, became the most tumultuous moment in her life. Aseema could not keep up with everything and since she wasn't exactly ready and well equipped for it, with no real knowledge aside from the books she read. What she saw had greatly disappointed her. Hamsal was really nothing like the progressive and colorful human cities that she had read about. Only that at any given moment was some sort of danger waiting to pounce at her around the corners. It was an over all peculiar and terrifying experience. Yet the young elf is not without spirit, at least to a certain extent. She navigated the city as best she could, at the same time careful and observant of any possible danger. But this wasnt enough prevention from muggers, slavers and one time, the Circle as she carelessly made a public display of her magical abilities. Her naivete was mostly to blame for this series of unfortunate encounters. The days she spent in the city, her luck slowly depletes with it. Though she found work at a local tavern, and is doing a terrible job at it, had somehow helped her get by, but one day things started to turn around when she was given an opportunity for mercenary work. Something that she never really considered before but at that point she gladly went for it. The promise of adventure hooked her right in, and got rid of her plain tavern job. It was an opportunity she could not miss that she practically threw herself at her employer, but ultimately her abilities proved her to be a well deserved addition to the Oathbreakers. Personality Aseema has this unquenchable thirst for knowledge. She always has this desire to learn new things and the drive to delve into the unknown and unexplored. Anything new to her is bound to gain her interest, it goes without saying such character is prone to some trouble along the way. She lives by a "what could possibly go wrong" attitude, hence uncaring of the consequences and willingly taking risks whether light or heavy makes no difference to her, all for the sole purpose of learning. Although she says that, when bad decisions came with regrets, it's one thing that will eat her the most. Seen as quiet, uncaring and indifferent, she lights up like forest fire when her interests are a subject, her eyes would glimmer at anything exciting and mostly she has a hard time concealing it. Basically, she's always the first to lose at a game of wicked grace. Growing up in seclusion from the outside, it's only natural for her to be wary among new people, this did not help her much at the beginning however the time she spent with the group years later had made her got over that. In those ten years, she remarkably matured and grew, and more so understanding the world in both viewpoint and action. Aseema still hung around during those ten years, considering that she has nowhere else to go if she ever did. Sure there are other opportunities to take, and her thirst for adventure would take her between continents but at the end of the day she finds herself coming back to them, she grew so sentimental that she could never imagine living a life without them, more than she likes to admit. Curriculum Vitae Years served A decade Profession Mage | Keeper Modius Operandi Aseema does both offensive and defensive with a preference for long ranged combat, as her obvious lack of physical strength makes her useless in upfront combat unless she's shapeshifting. Skills Dalish Lore- Has a reasonable amount of knowledge about the Dalish, being born and educated there. Alchemy- Has a wide range of knowledge with herbs and alchemical healing. Stealth- Developed from years of keeping away from trouble, she can manage to slip into anything if it calls for desperate measures. . Important Relations: Keeper Falael - Clan keeper, mentor. The closest father figure she has since her own. A serious and demanding man, yet compassionate and approachable. They had a heated argument because of her own doubts of the clan and keeperhood. She regrets her actions towards her up to this day, and wishing she could go back and be forgiven, only to give her some ease. Nayara - Mother. The clan's head hunter, one day went missing together with her party. It was believed that they were ambushed or killed by Tevinter slavers while on their hunting. A fun and loving mother to Aseema. One of the fondest memories of she has of her is the lullaby she hums when putting a very young Aseema to sleep, carrying in her arms and the smell and feel of her long dark hair against her cheeks. Felix - Barman, old boss. The moment Aseema came into the tavern, he instantly figured the girl wasnt from around the city. He almost pitied her, and the moment he realized she seemed like needing some help. Though he may be twice as demanding and hard assed as the keeper, he was kind enough to offer her a job and a place to stay. Aseema would still visit the tavern if she had the time, if only to unwind and have a mug of his good stuff. Thoughts: Feelings on the other members of the group. To be filled in later. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition -Heartwood Staff -Carving knife Spells -Primal magic- the manipulation of earth and sky, can be used as both offensive and defensive. Aseema can conjure up a wall of earth or armor for protection against instantaneous attacks, or project lightning towards enemies. -Shape shifting- When things get up close and personal, she turns into a bear and maul the nearest bad guy. She only knows how to shift into one type of animal. Clothing & Armor -Leather Armor -Short fur cloak -Leather boots -Dark hand wraps Tools & Things -Herbalist kit -Leather bound journal -Charcoal pen Potions & Poultices -Healing Poultice (3x) -Healing Potion (2x) -Lyrium Potion (2x) Ingredients & Rations -Bundles of freshly picked elfroot -Waterskin - Bags & Pouches -Satchel Bag -Bandolier Odds and Ends ...

La fièvre, les vomissements, les tremblements, les hallucinations, les sueurs froides... Shok parlait à moitié à haute voix alors que ses mains semblaient bouger de leur propre gré alors qu'elles travaillaient à installer la tente fraîchement déballée du sac du mage. Le géant gris murmurait cette liste pour lui-même depuis un moment, depuis qu'il a fini de traiter les blessures de lui et Erinya qu'ils avaient subies de leur rencontre moins que agréable avec ce wyvern. Il continua à évacuer les effets que le venin de la créature était connu pour causer dans ses victimes alors qu'il finissait d'établir sa tente. "Pas de symptômes sévères actuellement présents. Diagnostics..." Shok a dit qu'il se tenait debout à ses pieds, clinquant de la douleur qui a tiré à travers son côté faire à la beauté d'une entaille que la wyvern a griffé en lui. "bien, mais il surveillera d'autres symptômes." Shok a fait un pas en arrière pour scruter le groupe pendant un moment, leur effort actuel s'est avéré être tout à fait la tâche et vu son rôle en tant que l'un des guérisseurs de l'équipe Shok voulait s'assurer que personne n'était à un risque trop grand de mourir. Ses yeux froids se dirigeaient d'abord vers leur chef infaillible, qui était aussi confiant que jamais qu'elle regardait la tempête qui s'approchait avec un zèle apparent. Ensuite, il regarda l'incarnation physique pratique de griffes qui était Garlenn qui était encore une fois en train de froisser la même mélodie qu'il avait été pendant des jours qui avaient atteint le point qu'il avait amené Shok à se demander pourquoi ce serviteur de taverne était si enamoré avec un concombre. Son regard est finalement tombé à la jeune lass elven qui a pris la place sur le côté Shok en tant que guérisseurs de l'équipe, comme beaucoup de fois elle a été absorbé dans les pages d'un livre, Shok ne pouvait pas s'empêcher d'être rappelé de lui-même pendant un moment, mais il a rapidement repoussé ces pensées. Balayer le périmètre Shock a remarqué l'autre elfe qui a constitué le groupe errant autour, pas de surprise vu la soif de la fille à explorer. Enfin Shok a terminé son examen du groupe sur son collègue wyvern victime Erinya qui, comme lui-même, s'occupait de ses propres blessures de la bataille. Il la fixa quelques instants, à la recherche de symptômes flagrants de l'effet du venin, mais heureusement aucun n'a montré, bien que Shok ait fait une note mentale pour l'examiner plus tard. Satisfait du statut actuel du groupe Shok a permis à son esprit de errer sur les événements qui l'avaient conduit à ce moment. Shok n'a pas pu s'empêcher de se moquer de l'idée que lui et ses cohortes étaient actuellement sur un travail dans la poursuite de la rose silente siable des Plaines, ce n'est pas la plante qui a mis le dégoût dans la bouche du mage, mais plutôt le fait qu'ils étaient à la recherche d'un rêve de fièvre d'un herboriste du troisième taux essayant d'atteindre l'immortalité. Shok laissa sortir un léger grognement d'ennuis à la simple pensée d'un ingrédient si prisé qui allait gaspiller, mais il put se distraire de la pensée des meutes de gémissements qu'ils rencontraient. Shok les a trouvés fascinants pour le simple fait que quelques-unes des créatures semblaient être en mesure d'exploiter l'utilisation de la magie, bien que de manière assez simpliste et primitive. Il voulait avoir l'occasion d'étudier ces créatures de plus près et personnellement, mais il avait un travail à faire. Comme si, sur le signal de cette pensée, Shok trouvait son attention attirée sur le nuage de poussière qui s'effravait rapidement vers lui et les autres. Tout le monde semblait plus que prêt à sauter la tête d'abord dans le conflit qui approche, en se préparant les bras en quelques instants. Avec une grimace stimulée par sa blessure encore fraîche alors qu'il se préparait, laissant les flammes craquer à la vie dans les deux mains. -- Allons-y vite, d'accord? Il a dit avec un ton contondant que les autres avaient déjà appris à être l'habituel mage imposant.

"Maraas kata, ataas shokra." Shok Male | 34 |Tal-Vashoth Basic Info Birthplace Qunandar, Par Vollen Appearance The intimidating aura that Qunari naturally give off do to their mountainous statures... is not present in Shok, in fact this Tal-Vashoth is rather meek in comparison to his Qun following brethren. He maintains the towering height that is trademark for his race, standing at a staggering seven feet tall, but he possess the thin build of someone who appears to have been malnourished for many years. His skin is a dull charcoal color and is racked with a nearly innumerable amount of scars, most noticeably the series of what seems to have once been stitch's on his lips, likewise Shok is missing a portion of his left ear. His cold, steel colored eyes share the same hue as his hair which sits in a mane of wild locks that hangs down to his mid back. Shok's horns have been cleanly sawn off leaving only stubs in their place. His fingernails are long and untrimmed, becoming borderline claw like. Shok's expression is always rather hard and some what sad, his eyes though piercing hold a slight sorrow to them. Shok's clothes are rather dull and unassuming. The major aspect of his attire is the large hooded coat that he dawns, it is made of black leather and seems to be battered from years of wear and tear. Under the coat he dawns a simple short sleeved grey cloth shirt and black pants along with a set of black boots. Background The lives of all young Qunari are the same, they are brought into a world of absolute order and have been bred for generation upon generation for a sole purpose, it was no different for the Qunari that would one day become Shok. Unlike many of his brutish kinsmen that have become rather infamous to the rest of Thedas this young Qunari never had the same drive to become a warrior, instead he was born with an inquisitive mind that thirsted for the answers that littered the world around him. While other children marveled at the explosions gaatlok made or sat in awe from the stories of the aban-ataashi that prowled the seas the young Qunari pondered about what substances made up gaatlok and how did the mighty sea beast's body produce such powerful bolts of lightning, he found himself not being able to rest until he found the answers to these questions. The tamassrans took note of these interests and directed the boy down the path of an ashkaari, the scientists and philosophers of the Qun, just as they always planned for the boy. The young Qunari, now known as Ashkaari, dove whole heartily into his schooling, excelling in a multitude of fields that were presented before him. From the philosophies and teachings of the Qun to the recipes of gaatlok and vitaar Ashkaari's sharp mind soaked it all in, even adding further insight that helped birth a number of advancements. What Ashkaari was most drawn to was study of medicine, he poured hours into learning about what made the body tic and just how he could help it heal be it from sickness or more physical injuries. Ashkaari was without a doubt a prodigy with all the makings of going far in his career, given the right circumstances Ashkaari could of found himself becoming the Ariqun, one of three leaders of the Qunari triumvirate. Unfortunately it seemed that fate had different plans in store for him. It was a day like any other for the boy, he had spent hours that day studying away in class with his peers. As he scanned over yet another set of books he began to feel it, a slight burning in his chest. It had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and without cause, but the heat continued to build and build, drenching the young Qunari into a sweat, until finally it happened. The last thing Ashkaari remembered before blacking out was an intense bright flash... and the smell of burning flesh. When he awoke he was being dragged away from his still ablaze classroom. That was the day that his magic reared itself to the world, the day that Ashkaari ceased to be, and the day Saarebas was born. Everything was stripped from Saarebas; his home, his peers, his promising career, even his very name, everything that made him who he was. He had his horns sawn off to brand him as a danger to his people, his lips sewn shut to prevent him from spreading his corruption to others, and bound to an arvaarad who would control his actions day and night. Just as he thought his life had reached its complete bottom Saarebas' karataam, a group of saarebas bound to one arvaarad, was assigned to go to the war scarred island of Seheron in order to aid with the struggle against both the remaining Tevinter forces as well as the growing Tal-Vashoth rebels. Despite all of this Saarebas was able to swallow back his grief and force himself to believe that this was the only way he could keep the world safe from himself. The time on Seheron began to meld together for Saarebas, each day the same as the last, days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. He would be awoken by his arvaarad, marched on patrol along with his other bound mages, and sicced upon any forces that his arvaarad deemed a threat to the Qun. At first it was hard, the killing and fighting haunted Saarebas' nightmares, but eventually the metallic smell of freshly spilt blood and the cacophony of screams spurred by foes being set ablaze were all second nature to him. It got to a point that Saarebas had almost forgot who he use to be... almost. A raid on a Tal-Vashoth camp, an event that had become so common to Saarebas one would never really think twice about it, but it was in the midst of this chaos that it happened. A stray spear thrown by a dying rebel pierced the heart of Saarebas' arvaarad. It was as if the world froze as the group of mages watched the life fade from the man who held their leash, the man that had bound them but gave them purpose for so many years. Despite the eternity that that moment felt like it eventually came to an end, and the morbid realization that followed quickly arose. Each of the saarebas knew what they now had to do, they had been left without an arvaarad, they were now corrupted in the eyes of the Qun and there was only one way to ensure they did not spread that corruption. The first of them to take their life was one of their younger members, a poor girl that was barely over the age of ten. One by one they prayed their last prayer before slitting their own throats, until their was only one left. This sole saarebas remained amongst the corpses of the closet thing he had had to a family, this same saarebas who was once a young boy who wanted nothing more than to explore and study the world around him, he found himself questioning again. Why did they have to die? Why did he have to die? Why did the Qun demand this sacrifice?... Was the Qun wrong? The questions whispered in Saarebas' mind as he held the dagger to his throat. They repeated over and over, growing louder and louder, until Saarebas found himself speaking them aloud. The Qun... is wrong. He said as he lowered the dagger. It took everything in his being not to join his brothers and sisters on the ground, but he knew that this was a waste, that each of these people who had so willingly gave their life in the name of the Qun were just that, people. Each of whom deserved the life that was stolen from them from people who were too closed minded to accept them for despite their nature. It was in that moment that Saarebas refused to let the fear of others bind him any longer, that he would fight for his right to live and question the world, and it was the moment that Shok was truly born. The days that followed were a wonder for Shok, it was the first time in years that he was free. He wandered the wilds of Seheron aimlessly, finding refuge under whatever tree would hold him for the evening and feeding on the animals that were unfortunate enough to cross his path. Those days of lost bliss came to an end when a group of the fabled fog warriors stumbled upon him. Be it from pity or curiosity, but the fog warriors did not outright attack Shok. They took the poor wretch back to their camp and even helped nurse his wounds, freeing his lips from their stiches and giving him a true place to rest. Shok had spent a few years among the fog warriors, he felt indebted to them for what they did. He learned much about their plight and cause, wanting no more than a place where their people could be free from the control of the war of the Qunari and Tevinter, Shok couldn't help but empathize. The fog warriors helped improve Shok's understanding of the common tongue and in return he aided them with their medical needs, it appeared they had been with out a proper healer for quite sometime and his expertise from his past life were greatly appreciated. He eventually was even taught their secret of creating their legendary fog, it was rather simple alchemy in Shok's opinion, but the symbolic importance was not lost on him. As Shok lived among the fog warriors he found himself studying a different field that he never expected in his previous life, magic. With the restriction that he once lived under lifted he poured everything he had into understanding the ebbs and flows of the mystic arts. Lacking a formal instructor Shok turn to studying the most active magic users on the island, the Tevinter mages. Shok managed to get ahold of quite a number of Tevinter tomes about magical practice, their techniques were a whole new world of magic to him. Eventually his studies lead him to the school of magic that made Tevinter so vilified, blood magic. Blood magic was more primal and powerful than anything Shok had ever felt, but more importantly it was the most free form of magic he could find, he did not need to tap into the Fade or rely on a demon or spirit, all the power came from him. Eventually Shok's studies started to pull him away from the fog warriors, he would not be able to continue to grow if he stayed with them. He thanked them for their kindness and swore that if they ever needed them that he would be there for them before he bid them a goodbye. Shok managed to smuggle himself off of Seheron to the mainland on a cargo ship with a small family of run away elven slaves who he quickly formed a bond with. He decided to remain with the group until he felt that they had reached a safe enough location outside of the reach of their master. They traveled together for a few weeks until they parted ways in a small village in the Free Marches. With that endeavor aside Shok was now in what might as well been a whole new world. He wondered Thedas, acquiring as much magical knowledge as he could. Shok found that whenever he needed coin, which was quite the new concept to him, he was able to offer his services as a healer. Eventually his travels lead him to Hasmal where he would find his services being requested by a group of mercenaries, Shok took the job seeing that the coin was far more than he had been receiving as a wandering healer. Personality A lifetime of having the world beat him down has left Shok rather cold, he finds it hard to not see the horrors that lay just beneath the surface of things. Despite this and all the atrocities he has both gone through and committed Shok still has a burning passion for healing, he tries his best to make the pain of life just a little bit easier where he can. He still has his inquisitive mind, he yearns to unlock the secrets of the world regardless of the form that they present themselves to him in. It should be no surprise that Shok does not shy away from getting his hands dirty, even if it means delving into more morally questionable actions. He has a soft spot for the downtrodden, being able to empathize with their situations. Shok is a rather straight shooter, he doesn't really know how to sugar coat things for people. Though he has renounced the Qun he still acts with the strong sense of purpose that a Qunari would. During his time with the fog warriors he learned to appreciate the art of story telling, he spent many a night enthralled by the tales of the group's fog dancer. It also seems to be quite the universal truth that many of the horned giants, Qunari or not, have quite the sweet tooth and Shok is no exception. Curriculum Vitae Years served A little bit under one year Profession Mage | Saarebas/Blood Mage Modius Operandi Shok is like a glass cannon, he unleashes powerful attacks but he can't take too much damage. His best place on the battle field is mid range where he can get close enough to lay into enemies, but still able to retreat if need be. Skills Healer Shok spent years studying both the body as well as the advances in Qunari medicines. Even without his magic Shok is able to provide medical aid in times of need. Qunari Born Many outsiders and even many converts to the Qun have a hard time understanding it, Shok dose not have this problem. Being born into it Shok had the lessons of the Qun drilled into his mind everyday. If one has questions about anything from Qunari beliefs to their military strategies Shok would be a great start. Forbidden Knowledge Unlike many others Shok does not hold back from diving into what many consider the darker and dangerous studies. Important Relations Fog Warriors The freedom fighters back on Seheron, Shok still feels that he owes them for everything they have done for him. Zathlen Family The elven family he traveled with, they are currently settled down in a small village in the Free Marches Thoughts Aseema Viranni "Much like a leaf in the breeze her course changes on a whim. The girl is young and adventurous, with a mind that questions the world around her. Though her inquisitive nature is commendable her naivety when it comes to understanding the effects of her actions will one day be her undoing." Eirny "A small flame in a raging storm, always on the verge of being blown out. Her passion for the care of others is amiable, I have seen far too little of it in my life. Her sharp mind and skill in healing is impressive, but she is far too trusting. Her willingness to hear the whispers of the beings from the Fade is concerning, how long until one leads her astray." Erinya - Ishanni "Like a diseased tree she appears to stand strong, but what lies beneath her bark is twisted. The woman is hurt in a way few understand, the Qunari call it asala-taar or soul sickness. I have seen it on Seheron, when a warrior goes through the fires of battle they may come back unscathed physically but missing a part of themselves far more important. I do not know what has broken her, but I know she drives on because that is all she has left to do." Garlenn Fellblade "Tough as the same stone his people worship. He is bold and crass, the dwarf lacks a sense of restraint. He does however understand that in this world some situations can only be resolved with bloodshed." Krios Ar Tae O Darkhold "Cold and strong like the mountains he hails from. He reminds me much of a Qunari; quite, focused, and tasked driven. I admire the fact that he is one of the more practical humans I have met in my travels." Ovra Paerat "Confident and silver tongued, her words flow like honey, but behind it all lays a viper. She reminds me of the ben-hassrath, her motives unknown but her actions absolute. Though I admire her skill I do not wish to turn my back to her less her dagger finds a place in it." Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition Shok, like many saarebas, does not chanle his magic from a staff but rather fires bolts of energy from his hands. The closest thing to a weapon he carries is a small dagger that he uses to draw his blood. Spells Saarebas A saarebas is not like most mages when it comes to combat, they attack harder and with a ferocity of an animal. Shok himself had always focused on ice and fire attacks to lay waste to his enemies. His magic is mainly offensive focused with the occasional spell thrown in to help him get away from enemies. Blood Mage Shok uses his blood to power his magic, preferring this over pulling power from the Fade. He does not have the level of control to manipulate the actions of others, but he is able to heal himself from the blood of fallen enemies as well as boil the blood within a foe to damage them. Clothing & Armor 1x Hooded Leather Coat 2x Cloth Shirt 2x Cloth Pants 2x Leather Boots Tools & Things 1x Medical Kit 1x Personal Magic Tome Potions & Poultices 2x Health Potions 1x Lyrium Potion 3x Regeneration Potion Ingredients & Rations 1x Waterskin ?x He always some how has some sort of small baked good, usually a type of cookie Bags & Pouches 1x Satchel 1x Coin Purse 1x Backpack Odds and Ends 1x Saarebas Mask 1x Tent 1x Bed Roll

Krios s'est assis contre une grosse roche, ayant passé des minutes à trouver le bon angle pour éviter les jabbys dans le dos. Non pas qu'il puisse être vraiment à l'aise dans ce friche contaminé – comment pourrait-on? Krios cependant était peut-être plus déplacé que les autres. Après tout, il avait passé la majorité de sa vie sur les chaînes enneigées des monts Frostback, et maintenant il était coincé sur un désert de frêne relativement plat. La chaleur seule suffisait à adoucir son humeur, transformant son vocabulaire déjà sélectif en rien de plus qu'une série de grognements et de grognements. Même le chant de Garleen's ne pouvait pas lever son esprit, malgré qu'il savait parfaitement à quoi servait le concombre. Il sifflait tranquillement comme on l'obligeait à cracher une bouchée de sa viande séchée, les grains de poussière ayant trouvé leur chemin dans sa bouche. Il a craché encore quelques fois dans un effort pour nettoyer les débris oraux, mais il pouvait encore sentir les grains fins entre ses dents, lui donnant une sensation de broyage ennuyeux chaque fois qu'il bougeait sa mâchoire. L'odeur de la viande de bœuf s'attardait encore sous son nez, ce qui faisait sortir son ventre d'un creux d'esurient faible. Il ne mangerait pas quand même, pas avec le climat actuel gâcher la nourriture, et certainement pas avec l'agitation soudaine. Nous avons la compagnie, cria le groupe, chef rusé. Krios regarda vers le nain à tête rouge et suivit ses yeux au loin. À l'instar des autres, il se mit à clamber les pieds et attendait de voir quel genre de compagnie ils étaient sur le point de recevoir. Sa hache et son bouclier maintenant en main, il se dirigeait davantage vers le devant du groupe; non pas parce qu'il avait l'intention d'être celui qui s'adresse aux visiteurs, mais parce qu'il voulait se mettre entre les guérisseurs et toute menace potentielle.

Art by BEmmaa (I think) Krios Ar Tae O Darkhold Male | 36 | Avvar Basic Info Birthplace Frostback Mountains Appearance Krios stands at around 6ft1 and is of a hefty build, both naturally and as a result of physical fitness. As someone who has spent his entire life fighting either the elements or other living things, he has grown to appreciate the need to keep healthy and thus boasts an impressively toned body. Though even a child can kill a bear if they strike in the right places. His dark brown hair is long and relatively messy, which alongside his grown-out beard gives him a rather bestial appearance. Whilst his hair hides his large rugged jaw and smooths out some of his features, his gloomy ebony eyes give off a ‘don’t fuck with me vibe’. His body has the odd scar here and there, but nothing overally dramatic or noticeable. Background Krios was born to Darkhold, an Avvar clan in the Frostback Mountains. He was the eldest of two brothers, his younger brother being Rex. His mother was Tae, the clan’s Shaman, and his father was a warrior named Tuborg. Growing up Krios was trained how to survive the harsh mountain environment and like most of the boys trained to fight as often as he could. Due to his mother being the Shaman he also witnessed all manner or rituals and magic, but did not seem to have much in the way of magical ability himself (not that he minded). As soon as he was able he began joining the hunting parties and over the years honed his survival instincts and learnt how to fight against wild beasts, rivals/bandits, and the odd darkspawn. When he was in his late twenties his mother passed, prompting him and his brother to go on a pilgrimage to one of the ranges tallest peaks. They had been told by their mother that it was where the Great Bear Sigfrost (their patron God) sat and that on her passing they should go to him for wisdom. The two travelled for weeks and on many occasions came close to death, be it from malnutrition, the elements or threats. When at last they reached the peak, or what they thought was the right peak, Krios passed out and entered the Fade. Worried for his brother, Rex dragged Krios into a cave and wrapped him in furs before setting off towards what he though was shouting in the distance. In the fade Krios came face to face with Sigfrost (or at least a being claiming to be Sigfrost) and took the opportunity to challenge him for knowledge. He was successful and was rewarded with mystical energies that he didn’t fully understand. Upon waking he followed his brother’s markings a fair distance, surprised that he had been left alone and unaware of how much time had passed. After about an hour he came across a cave and found signs of battle. To his horror he found a couple of darkspawn corpses and his brother’s bow and quiver. For days Krios, still fatigued from the pilgramige, desperately tracked the small group of darkspawn down the mountains and into the Korcari Wilds. When he eventually caught up to them he was devastated to find that all that remained of his brother were odd scraps and limbs, that they had been using him to feed their bereskarn. In a bloodlust fuelled rage Krios charged into battle and begun butchering them all. It was only by virtue of his new abilities that he was able to defeat them, and only then barely. Filled with shame for failing to protect his brother, Krios could not bear to return to his tribe and instead set-off north, eventually finding himself in Fereldan where he resorted to Mercenary work. This is what led him to come into contact with The Oathbreakers Personality Krios is incredibly practical minded, mostly as a result of his environment. Whilst he is usually rather serious he can, on rare occasions, crack or take a joke. He responds badly to anyone attempting to intimidate him and has no fear of fighting. He is good under-pressure and whilst he likes to take charge of a situation, he will listen to the opinions and suggestions of others. As an Avvar he finds some cultural aspects of ‘regular life’ strange and finds the chantry and its beliefs irritating. He loves large meals, ale and sharing stories. He hates staying in one place for too long and becomes infuriated at the sight of bereskarn. Curriculum Vitae Years served 6 years Profession Spirit Warrior Modius Operandi Krios tends to fight on the front lines and gets up close and personal with his axe. Skills Good survivalist able to track and hunt. Very skilled fighter when using his axe and can use a sword nearly as well. Can shoot a bow but not too well (he's certainly not an archer, and prefers to use traps when hunting). Good climber. Has learnt moderate control over Beyond the Veil and Soulbrand, but is fatigued more as a result of using them. He continues to practice the use of spirit warrior techniques in his own time. He cannot swim. Important Relations: His father Tuborg - “I’ve not seen my old man since I left the tribe nearly a decade ago. He probably thinks I died along with my brother – and truth be told, it’s probably better that way.” WIP TBC TBH CBA Thoughts: Feelings on the other members of the group. To be filled in later. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition 1 waraxe – veridium 1 medium-sized round shield - His brother’s yew bow and quiver Spells Mages only. Keep it reasonable Clothing & Armor Wears a mix of studded leather armour and fur. He sometimes wears a massive hooded fur cloak over this. His axe sits holstered on his belt, his quiver on his thigh and his bow on his back (which is awkward to remove whilst wearing his cloak. Of course, he has to dress down when in a warmer climate. Tools & Things 1 water flask 1 drinking horn Flint and steel for fire starting Potions & Poultices 1 roll of bandages Ingredients & Rations 4 dried strips of beef 1 piece of salted pork 1 small loaf of bread, torn into smaller scraps Bags & Pouches Caries two small pouches that hang together on the back left of his waist, and are usually hidden by his cloak. Odds and Ends 1 small wooden figurine

Avez-vous des dettes dont vous ne nous avez pas parlé? Il n'y a pas assez de stupidité pour sortir d'ici. » Ovra répondit avec un tour de tête, la fente de sa bouche se repliant facilement dans un sourire. Remettre son attention à l'horizon qu'elle a regardé dans le nuage de charge de poussière et de cendres. Le nuage lui-même semblait se déplacer plus erratique à ce stade, tissant à gauche et à droite mais restant dans la direction générale du groupe. Alors qu'il s'approchait, c'était presque comme si toute la pression de l'air tombait pendant une seconde, il y avait un faible bourdonnement avant que le nuage de brun mouvant ne soit avalé par une explosion de flamme et puis de fumée foncée. « Par Andraste » l'âne flamboyant. » Ovra s'écria sous son souffle alors qu'elle se levait de la croûte dans laquelle elle s'était incrédule. Avant qu'elle puisse continuer un groupe de figures jaillir de la fumée. Sept chevaux, un devant le reste qui s'accrochait derrière dans la poursuite morte. Le cavalier, au sommet du cheval de tête, a été arnaqué vers l'avant en pressant son pied, un sang chaud impérial de couleur foncée vers l'avant dans un galop complet. Ceux qui ont suivi étaient de fabrication mercenaire évidente, mais l'uniformité de leurs uniformes en cuir foncé et en métal suggérait une apparence plus professionnelle. Mais la figure qui a attiré l'œil d'Ovra était au centre du groupe, une femme vêtue d'ombres et d'or, un bâton levé dans sa main, dont le dessin ornementé s'incline vers le haut en un dragon noir rugissant, l'héraldique de l'Imperium. Hunters, ça commençait à avoir un sens dans l'esprit d'Ovra. Sa curiosité a culminé, elle a levé la main dans un poing serré, signalant aux autres de tenir leur position. Le mage leva son bâton vers le ciel et leva son autre main vers le cavalier, murmurant sous son souffle. Il y avait un autre bourdonnement dans l'air alors que les énergies étaient tirées et contorsées, puis une libération comme une étincelle d'éclairage s'échappait de la main tendue de la femme plus vite que l'on pouvait clignoter qu'il claquait dans le cheval de tête. Le cheval cria et se jeta dans la poussière, le cavalier tomba au sol avec leur monture, venant se reposer à un jet de pierre des Breakers. C'est à ce moment-là qu'Ovra choisit d'agir. C'est le temps de se déplacer! » Ovra a crié vers les autres et s'est précipitée vers la figure tendue debout devant eux, signalant de sa main que les autres forment un cercle protecteur autour de la figure effondrée. Dans les yeux d'Ovra, si l'Imperium voulait cette fuite apparente assez pour envoyer un mage expérimenté après eux et un groupe complet de chasseurs, peut-être un groupe de mercenaires opportunistes pourrait-il tirer un peu plus de monnaie d'eux. Ne vous engagez pas à moins d'être ordonné. Cela veut dire que vous Garlenn! » Ovra a dit aux autres, alors qu'elle se tenait les bras croisés devant elle pendant que le groupe de chevaux tirait à proximité.

Art by Irma Suriani Ahmed Ovra Paerat Female | 33 | Dwarf Basic Info Birthplace Montsimmard, Orlais Appearance Short and fierce there is no doubt of Ovra's dwarven blood. Moving with surprising speed and refined dexterity, all supported by a muscular if not compact frame given her stature. Her skin is cast in tan hues, strange given the pallor of most of her kind, resultant from the life of traveler. It is not a pristine canvas though marked with scar tissue accumulated over the years. It all results in a sort of admirable stoic beauty akin to that of the mythic siren, beautiful and alluring to behold but probably best to keep your distance. A task that is harder said than done, given the constant welcoming grin the woman carries upon her face, though it is unsure if she is welcoming in you, or the ever constant specter of death that she enjoys teasing. Her red hair is kept relatively short, its choppy texture contrasting with the two braids she wears which are adorned with heavy metal rings that are emblazoned with dwarven script. They fall to either side of her eyes, two small orbs of green, that seem to be hiding something behind their ever present glimmer. Her clothing choices are muted in their coloring nothing to really draw the eye. Background The daughter of a well-regarded Blacksmith in Montsimmard. Her mother dying of consumption when she was young. She had a solid roof over head, her dad was a good man, and she didn't have to worry about where her next meal was going to come from. What was absent in trouble was instead replaced with tales. Her father, Ulin fancied himself something of a storyteller and young Ovra was of course, his most attentive audience member. Her favorite stories was that of her ancestor Tovka. Tovka, was a skilled smith, but her true passion came in smiting foes; both these skillsets would find use in the Fourth Blight in her role as one of the Stone's Bastards recruited by the Grey Warden Garahel. As Ulin told it, it was an epic tale of love and betrayal, glory and honor in such a way that would of made even the old Paragons proud. In the Tovka would die fighting off hordes of Darkspawn, to let Garahel escape and eventually slay the Archdemon. Her axe was all that was recovered, which still hung above the Paerat Smithy as a reminder of what they always starve to emmulate. Heart filled with such tales Ovra always sought out adventure. Rather spending her time exploring the streets and rooftops of Montsimmard than learning the ways of the smithy. Ovra's adventures would lead her into making acquaintances with some local troublemakers. Metaphorically and literally looked down on her for being a Dwarf, this pushed Ovra to keep on taking more and more dangerous dares to prove herself. Smear cow dung on the Guard Captain's bed, pick pocket the crotchety old merchant, things of that nature. After a while though they ran out of dares to give the girl, so she started to make up her own challenges to keep herself entertained. It would be one these "challenges' that would change her life. She had deiced to pick the pocket of a well off noble man that had been frequenting the market the past week. The older gentlemen who despite his fine wears, always traveled alone caught the eyes of Ovra as the perfect mark. This man was in fact Duke Yvain de Leclerc, a seasoned bardmaster. It is to go without saying that Leclerc was able to catch Ovra in the act. But still the young girls aptitude was admirable, and Dwarven entertainers were an exotic sight in Orlais, and if the nobles loved anything it was rare sights to behold. Leclerc with schemes already forming in his head would offer to train the girl in the ways of the Bard. And so in a week's time when Yvain was to head back to Val Royeaux, Ovra accompanied him. To his credit Ulin was as accepting as a parent could in the situation. As he knew in his heart that his young daughter would never be satisfied stuck in the confines of Montsimmard, for adventure was rooted in their blood after all. And so Ulin gifted his daughter with Tovka's axe so that her family would always be at her side. The next three years would be breaking down the girl she used to be and replacing it with the bard that she was to become. She was pushed physically to her limit, her sparring lessons beginning from day one with a sharpened blade, every cut and gash its own little lesson. She was to learn everything: poisons, history, architecture, musicianship, and even dining etiquette. For bard were not just spies and assassins, they were true masters of the Game itself. Yet maybe most importantly she was taught the most essential skill in a bard's repertoire, control. To repress and dictate her own feelings and thoughts, to not give away anything, to put up as mask as needed to conceal the truth. And in the winter of her third year, she was deemed ready. The life evidently wasn't meant to last. At the age of twenty two, Yvain was poisoned by one of his rivals, perishing shortly after. At this moment in time, Ovra could of done the sensible thing and picked up where Yvain had left off. She did after all have access to all his contacts, and allies. But for reasons unknown, Ovra slipped away into the night shortly after the funeral. Maybe it was simple wanderlust, but whatever it was Ovra was on the road again. She would go wherever the winds would take her, playing at roadside taverns to earn a meal and bed for the night, and occasionally supplementing her income with her... other skills Her travels would eventually take her to Hasmal. Her she would sign on to a job protecting a Merchant headed towards Starkhaven, since she was going that way anyway. The forming of the Breakers wasn't her idea, but she didn't oppose it either. She is something of a coordinator for the group these days, using her old contacts and skills to find them work. Personality Ovra's a difficult one to read, bard training does that of course. She projects this charismatic aura of sheer confidence about her, like nothing could ever go wrong as long as the dwarf's still standing. The jokes and witty remarks roll off her tongue with ease. And she's something of a shameless tease using her femininity and all its assets in matters of persuasion. In a way it all seems effortless. And truthfully it is. It's also all just another one of her lies, a mask like any other. There are signs of it of course the fact that in the ten years that some of her companions have known her, they know little about her past beside that she was born in Orlais. And how she can threaten a child at knife point and seemingly not feel bad about it. And yet even the aloof bardic demeanor is still a sort of mask. As below the surface are bubbling insecurities and regrets, kept ever in check through her training, but always present. The same insecurities that made her flee Orlais, and the same ones that wonder if she was ever a good person to begin with. Curriculum Vitae Years served 10 Profession Rogue | Bard Modius Operandi Ovra is very particular about making sure people are dead. So she prefers to keep up close and personal, with her hand axe and dagger. Skills - Move in Shadow: Ovra is an expert upon the honored past time of how not to be seen. - Bardic Lore: Jack of all trades, master of none. As a Bard you learn a little bit of everything. Small reference pools are for amateurs - Skulduggery: Poisons, Lockpicking, pickpocketing, eavesdropping. The Game frowns upon those who don't fight dirty. - Balladeer: Ovra knows how to hold a tune obviously. - She Knows a Guy: A deep web of contacts scattered throughout Thedas provide Ovra with some well needed insight. Important Relations: Ulin Paerat: Father, Smith, generally a good man. According to her contacts in Orlais her father is still doing fine. Ovra hasn't talk to him since she left though all those years ago. Worried that he would be disappointed in what she has become. Tovka Paerat: Ovra's long dead ancestor. Despite her being born roughly over four hundred or so years ago, her shadow still hangs over Ovra as she ever still tries to live up to the example she set so long ago. Laelius Juventius: Magister of the Imperium, Merchant, Slaver, and a terrible player of Wicked Grace. A prominent member of the particular sphere of the underworld within the northern Free Marches and southern Tevinter. The two met when Ovra was still in Orlais and Laelius was visiting the country on business. They been assoicates ever since. Duchess Amelya de Leclerc: Yvain's wife and now widower. The bard and duchess are on friendly enough terms still to this day. Though their relationship never really progress beyond one of business as Amelya saw Ovra as just another member of the help. After Yvain's death their relationship warmed if only slightly and they still exchange regular correspondences with one another. Thoughts: This space intentionally left blank. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition - 1x Handaxe Silverite: The ancestral weapon of her family given to her by her Father. A treasured companion through rough times. - 1x Dagger Steel Spells & Sorcery N/A Clothing & Armor 1x Fitted Leather Armor 1x Worn Traveler's Boots 1x Traveler's Cloak, Dark Brown 2x flax pants, 1x cotton pants 2x cotton shirts, 1x flax shirt Tools & Things 1x Fine Antivan Lockpicks 1x Lute 1x Herbalist Kit 1x Needle and Thread Potions & Poultices 2x Health Potions 2x Rock Armor Tonic 4x Antivan Fire Grenade Ingredients & Rations 4x Bundles of Deathroot 2x Vial of Venom ?x Hardtack Does she conjure up more with some sort of magic? Nobody knows but she certainly has a lot of it. 1x Waterskin Bags & Pouches 1x Large Sized Traveler's Pack *Dwarf Sized* 1x Potion Belt 1x Herbalist Pouch Odds & Ends 1x Bundle of Letters

Les yeux d'Eirny perçaient le sable et discernaient le groupe peu après celui d'Ovra. Elle a regardé la scène se dérouler avec de grands yeux, se serrer le bâton plus fermement à elle-même quand le cheval a été frappé et le cavalier jeté. "Le souffle de Maker...", elle murmura sous son souffle. Ça fait mal de voir l'innocente créature blessée pour arrêter celle qu'elle n'avait eue que quelques instants auparavant. L'odeur des cheveux et de la chair chantés a rejoint le vent et le sable, tournant son estomac; elle a regardé la créature rester comme la mort. Que ce soit momentanément stupéfait ou vraiment mort, elle ne pouvait pas le dire. Puis Ovra a crié de la sortir de son daze momentané. "Il est temps de bouger", et Eirny a regardé que le nain s'est déplacé pour se placer entre les attaquants et la figure tombée. Le petit elfe se sentait généralement anxieux par la situation, mais cette fois-ci, elle sentait la colère bouillonner. Après l'appel, elle a à peine hésité un moment avant de quitter sa vue pour se former avec les autres. Elle a essayé d'épargner un coup d'oeil à la personne, mais comme ils étaient face vers le bas dans le sable, elle ne pouvait pas faire grand chose. Elle a regardé leur chef maintenant, en attendant d'autres ordres. Presque sûrement, Eirny savait qu'Ovra espérait en tirer quelque chose d'argent, de connaissance ou autrement elle ne le risquerait pas. Elle en savait assez pour savoir qu'elle pensait qu'il valait la peine de leur temps et de leurs ressources pour intervenir, en particulier avec au moins un Tevinter mage impliqué. En ce moment même, Eirny n'avait aucune bonne pensée pour le groupe; car tout ce qu'elle savait, c'était des esclavagistes pourchasser un esclave en fuite. Cela expliquerait pourquoi ils ont attaqué le cheval et non le cavalier: ne voulait pas endommager les marchandises. Déjà, elle a imaginé l'attention et l'énergie nécessaires pour placer un glyphe de paralysie qui attraperait ceux qu'elle a désignés. Elle avait reconnu l'ordre de se retirer, sauf indication contraire, mais elle serait néanmoins prête.

Eirny Female | 29 | Elven Basic Info Birthplace Val Royeaux Alienage Appearance Eirny stands at an unimpressive 5'2" and has a wiry physique. Her most notable features--besides the large, pointed ears--are her ivory hair and her amethyst eyes. She keeps a few long wisps of hair dangling at the front of her face, more often than not found braided, knotted, or beaded away from her eyes while the rest of her hair is kept short as a bob. Her complexion is light as it is with most of her kind and pasted with freckles here or there. Background Born to a pair of poor city elves in Val Royeaux's extensive alienage, Eirny spent most of her dawn years learning with her peers at the vhenadahl or in some small home or other when it was available. There were so many packed in that the smaller children often sat in the laps of the elder ones to conserve space. In her first ten years of life, she never questioned the way things were done even when some of the children went missing; perhaps they died of illness which was not uncommon within such cramped quarters or perhaps they went somewhere more interesting. Eirny would invent her own stories sometimes for where they went. Perhaps they had gone to join their wilder, freer brothers and sisters in the forests, or maybe they strayed too far and Fen'Harel snatched them up. Sometimes tiny lights came to her when she was alone and whispered stories about where her friends had gone; however, the stories they told were always vague and sometimes nonsensical. Occasionally, one of the stories would upset her and the spirits would glow soothingly to calm her worries. Whatever the case, her parents told her not to think about it and assured her she would never leave them. It wasn't until her early teens when her aptitude for magic became more apparent--particularly of the spirit sort--that Eirny was taken from her home to the White Spire for training and harrowing. The Chantry and its Templars became a constant presence in her life during her stay, and she grew to hate and love them in her own ways. She found one or two of the friends that went missing from the alienage here, and it made the transition a bit easier. One particular new friend she made was her mentor, Rhys, who was very skilled at interacting with wisps and spirits such as she had. He along with a few important others safely guided her through training and interacting with her innate spirit magics and eventually through her successful Harrowing. Like many mages, she does not talk of the demon(s) or other things she saw while in the Fade. A few weeks later, it was one of her alienage friend's Harrowing. His trial seemed to go on for days, and the wisps that came to her hinted at him weakening. It was a week before she saw him again, but by then he was Tranquil. It hurt her heart in ways she hadn't expected. She had known Tranquil before him and they all seemed content with their lot in life; her friend, Aesin, did now, too, but he wasn't the same. The light from his eyes was gone, sometimes it seemed like he did not even notice her, and her wisps refused to go near him. The Spire was the largest Circle in Orlais, possibly in all of Thedas, yet Eirny never felt more suffocated in her life. Even her life in the alienage paled in comparison. She began to throw herself into her studies of healing magics in the hopes of finding some lost way to help Aesin, something the others may have overlooked or hidden. She was almost like a woman possessed as she would study tomes, writings, and rituals for days on end. In time, she became a very skilled spirit healer but was not one step closer to discovering anything to help her friend. As with all spirit healers, the more skilled she became the more demons tried to entice her. Many promised they could cure her friend if she only brought them over. Eventually, repeated disappointments with avenues of study and relentless demonic propositions drove her to avoid her friend and the thought of him altogether. Eirny was a highly respected and trusted member of the White Spire's Circle by this time. While far from an expert, she was well-versed in healing magics and spirits by this point. Having seen the dangers of demons firsthand, she was an ardent supporter of the Chantry, the Templars, and the Circle. While she struggled with the fate of her friend, in the end she knew that it was for the best if he could not control himself. Her heart still ached for the loss of his friendship, but she had to think that there was a reason behind it all. One night, as she lie resting in her bed, a Templar came to her room and ordered her up to follow him. As she wiped the sleep from her eyes, she hadn't the faintest idea what it all could be about but she had not reason to distrust. As ordered, she packed her belongings quickly and followed dutifully. When they were in the undercroft of the building, that was when she began to feel something wasn't right. She hesitated on the last steps before the murky waters below and the Templar turned back. When she questioned where they were going and what was happening, she was hit with a blinding force that echoed through her bones and knocked her unconscious. When she came to, she felt like she was on a moving vehicle. Her hands, mouth, and eyes bound, only the wisps around her attempted to explain the situation. She had grown to understand them better over the years and knew for sure now that this Templar did not have noble intentions; they told her he carried her blood and intended to sell her. It was a long trip before this was confirmed with her arrival in Hasmal. Here, she was to be sold, phylactery and all, but the deal went bad for the Templar and the slaver, with neither one of them ending up with the intended reward. This is all the story she ever told the Oathbreakers when she joined up a year ago. It was all the story she planned to ever tell unless otherwise coerced. Nevertheless, she assured them that her phylactery was destroyed in the struggle. An apostate now, she had no intention of returning to the White Spire or any Circle. Not after that night. Personality Eirny often comes off as somewhat distracted, but that can usually be explained by the wisps that pop in and out around her. Many times they are overlooked by passersby and so she appears to be listening to thin air, but she keeps her wits about her. She's at home with elves and humans the most, of course, as she grew up with them. Reserved on a few topics--such as her past--she is generally a fairly open person. She is direct in her speech unless finesse is called for and doesn't like to dance around a subject. Intelligent, quick to care for the injured, and slow to trust. Curriculum Vitae Years served 1 year Profession Mage | Spirit Healer Modus Operandi Filling the supporting role, you'll find her wherever the most help is needed, whether up front or in the rear. Skills Herbalism: allows Eirny to create potions, poultices, and salves using various ingredients. Herbal Lore: Eirny is able to identify most any type of plant, herb, or otherwise used in the creation of healing items. First Aid: Even without the use of her magics and poultices, Eirny is a talented nurse and caretaker. Streetwise: Being raised in the largest alienage—and in the largest city—in Orlais has its own perks; Eirny is comfortable moving in and interacting in large crowds. Speak with Spirits Since early age, Eirny has had wisps around her. With years of experience and guidance, she can give them simple commands and even puzzle out some of their simple thoughts. Important Relations: Rhys: Mentor, idol, friend. Helped Eirny come into her own understanding of her powers during her time at the White Spire. Aesin: Close friend from her childhood in the alienage. Before made Tranquil, she considered him her best friend, being one of few who truly understood where and what she had been through. She still mourns his loss. Caelis (father) & Aeryn (mother) of the Val Royeaux alienage: Eirny’s parents whom she assumes still live at the alienage. She hasn’t seen them since she was taken to the White Spire years ago. Parted on good terms with no siblings—at that time, anyways. Reginald: The Templar whom attempted to sell Eirny to slavers from the White Spire. His whereabouts and well-being are unkwnown to her following the incident. She assumes he would not tell anyone of his misdeed or how a mage and her phylactery strangely went missing on his watch... Thoughts: Aseema Viranni: A long time veteran of the Oathbreakers, Eirny thought she'd feel more comfortable near the elf who shares her knack for magic, but she just isn't the same as the elves back home. She's not quite how she pictured a Dalish elf, either, besides the vallaslin she wears and some of the words she speaks. While Aseema's experience is valued, more often than not Eirny feels very awkward and alien around her. Erinya/Ishanni: Eirny has a hard enough time forming her own opinion of Erinya without her wisps whispering incessantly in her ears. Even when she has moments of lucidity, the woman was an oddity to Eirny. The wisps are generally in such a frenzy when they talk about her that Eirny has trouble deciphering each thought. What she does know, however, is that she is ill in mind and body; Eirny is determined to help her if she can. Garlenn Fellblade: Her first impressions of the dwarf after joining were fairly favorable. Eirny found amusement in his glibness and loquaciousness. Her good opinion of him is somewhat injured by his ferociousness in combat. She fights because she has to now, not ever because she enjoyed it. Still, when out of combat, she almost feels a fondness of sorts towards the battered dwarf. Even without the physical evidence to show it, her spirits tell her he has many scars. Krios Ar Tae O Darkhold: Probably the most interesting human Eirny has ever met. Serious a good bit of the time, Eirny enjoys the moments when he laughs or cracks a smile at some witty comment one person or other has made. She finds him fascinating in that he is a warrior with some magical abilities but he feels very different from the Templars with whom she spent so much time in the Spire. His magic feels very familiar and even her wisps enjoy being around him. Ovra Paerat: Ovra makes Eirny wish she knew more dwarves early on in life. Out of all the ones she has met since leaving the Circle a year ago, Ovra was by far the most interesting of the group. Also quick with a quip, she never lacks for life or laughs to bring to the party. Sometimes her spirit friends whisper about the shadows that hang over her, but Eirny accepts that we are all flawed in our own ways. And anyways, Ovra has only ever been good to her since joining. Shok: One of the few recruits newer than herself, Eirny initially had a strong distaste for the Qunari. She hadn't met many, but he seemed more dour than most and add to that his use of blood magic. Her views were newly colored the first time she saw him work as a healer. She could see the passion he held for his craft as he worked, severely softening her opinion and even endearing her to him a bit. She appreciates his directness, though sometimes thinks he could do with some tact. Her spirits hum a sad song for him sometimes. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition Enchanter’s Staff (A gift from Rhys; kept well-wrapped when not in use) Iron dagger Spells Creation: Heal, Rejuvenate, Glyph of Paralysis, & Spell Wisp Spirit: Spell Shield & Mind Blast Spirit Healer: Group Heal Clothing & Armor Cloth robes with hood (as pictured above) Cloth gloves Leather boots Tools & Things Empty bottles for potion/poultice/etc. making Herbalism Kit Smelling salts Potions & Poultices Lesser injury kit x2 Injury kit x1 Healing Potion x2 Health Poultice x2 Lyrium Potion x2 Ingredients & Rations 3 days worth of dry rations Waterskin Roll of fresh herbs Bags & Pouches Reagent bag (holds herbs) Potion and empty bottle holder (holds 3 at a time) Cloth backpack (spare clothes, unequipped items, empty bottles, small camp roll and her various other belongings already listed) Odds and Ends A worn book Eirny is often seen reading. She keeps it safely wrapped and stashed in her backpack when not in use. A vial of spirit essence received during her time at the Circle.

Le front relevé de Garlenn était inestimable à la remarque de coupe d'Ovra. Il aboie un rire, ses mots suivants probablement facétieux. "J'adore quand une femme prend les commandes!" Il répondit, et courut avec Ovra pour couvrir le mage tombé, en gardant un de ses couteaux de lancer dans ses mains juste au cas où. Il vérifierait lui-même le cavalier abattu pour des objets de valeur, mais les autres pourraient ne pas être reconnaissants de cela. En plus, ça pourrait compliquer les choses avec une récompense, après tout. Il soupirait, se creusait le cou et se préparait à mettre son visage de jeu sur ce qu'il savait finirait inévitablement dans l'effusion de sang. Ça l'a toujours fait après tout. "Penser à l'Imperium de tuer quelqu'un, c'est comme empêcher un Fereldan de posséder un chien. Vous pourriez l'arrêter un moment, mais leur envie finira par l'emporter sur leur bon sens et le faire de toute façon. » Les cavaliers s'approchaient maintenant, les chevaux approchant et tachant le long d'un terrain quelque peu inégal. Le temps a donné l'impression qu'ils s'approchaient de la mort pour recueillir leur âme. Les images transpirantes des hommes qui s'arrêtaient sur eux leur donnaient un peu moins d'impression intimidante, même s'ils étaient armés jusqu'aux dents avec des magies à réaliser. "Température difficile pour être hors de la route, hein?" Garlenn a appelé, l'amusement scintille dans ses yeux. "Je veux retourner à l'intérieur où c'est sûr. Nous allons aider votre ami." Pour ceux qui n'étaient pas idiots, la menace et l'implication étaient très claires, même masquées par un mince voile de salutation sympathique.

Garlenn Fellblade Male | 38 | Dwarf Basic Info Birthplace Orzammar Merchant District Appearance Garlenn is fairly large for a Dwarf, with broad shoulders that frame his trim body. He might still be short by human standards, his eyes level just above their belly button. However, he is nearly a head taller than most Dwarves, with the rugged and muscled body proportions to match. His skin is leathery and scarred in various places, particularly along his apeish arms (Not to mention the ritualistic tattoos of the Legion). If his body didn't tip you off how nasty of a piece of work he his, Garlenn's constant shit eating grin will be the nail in the coffin. His thick head is covered in a truly massive amount of blonde hair, both atop and on his chin, both similarly braided as well. Background Born as a casteless Dwarf who grew up in poverty, Garlenn's parents had shamed themselves and had lost their positions as merchants, leaving him in squalor. When he was eight, they decided to flee to the surface to garner a better life for themselves, but traveling through the Deep Roads, Garlenn wandered off and became lost due to an inherent curiosity. Unfortunately, this led to his losing his parents and only finding Orzammar again through sheer luck, essentially leaving him stranded and thought dead by his mother and father. With no one to take care of him, the Casteless youngster had to fight for every scrap of food or shelter he could get his hands on from an early age, even going so far as to committing murder by the age of sixteen over a lost cache of food. He'd never forget the wet blood on his hands, and the feeling of disgust that it brought him. Worst come to worst...he was a Dwarf. To kill one of his fellow stone dwellers shook him. He needed an out, but he did not know how to get to the surface world. At first he left the Casteless sections, stealing, exploring the deep roads for abandoned valuable, and trying his hand at dealing under the table with merchants. It was profitable for a time, but after a few years, he felt he was digging himself into a debt hole. Stone curse it, he couldn't maintain such a lifestyle, and on a whim one drunken night, he knew what he was to do. Garlenn joined the Legion of the Dead, and he and his fellows fought for every inch of ground to regain useage of the Deep Roads. Garlenn was among the most feircesome of fighters in the Legion. For despite his underhanded nature, he found he did value his race and homeland. What's more, Garlenn felt he had a real knack with handling weapons and throwing his weight around in a fight, being far quicker than most would expect as well. He fought and bled for his people within the Deep Roads, almost seeing it as a way to atone for his criminal acts. Large Darkspawn incursions and pockets of nameless beasts of the deep died by his axe, and the axes of his fellows. He spent nearly a decade in the Deep, and kept it up until there was nary any Dwarves left in his particular group save he and three others after a particularly large and bloody campaign. The Darkspawn in that attack was truly overwhelming, and as he saw an Ogre tear apart one of his dearest friends, he had an epiphany. When he found out that his luck had him survive, he realized that no one but he would drink to his friend's death. No one would care if he was slain. Yes, that was apart of the responsibility of the Legion, but it was not individual glory he sought. He sought for he and his fellows to be acknowledged at all. Instead they were treated as already deceased. He had felt looked down upon his entire life, and after having served his nation, and seeing what he had seen...now that his pent up energy and anger had been expended in blood lust, he saw it clearly. Well fuck that. The stone take them all! He'd rather the surface world instead, and since he knew how to traverse the Deep Roads now, so he went, becoming a deserter. He made his way to the surface, and decided to make his living as a mercenary and informant, traveling across Ferelden and Orlais, killing bandits, beasts, and all manner of enemies, finding the Oathbreakers and becoming the resident Darkspawn expert. Personality Those not used to the dark aspects of the world might consider Garlenn reprehensible. But to those who've seen the horrors of war and poverty, he's a fine companion and even amusing in his own way. Garlenn is boisterous and quick witted, always ready for a physical or verbal scrap. Killing and stealing is a profitable business for this savvy minded son-of-the-stone, and he does sometimes take pleasure in it, admittedly. However he isn't malevolent, per say. There aren't many cruel acts he commits out of sheer hatred. 'Nothing personal' he'll say. Indeed, the foes he most enjoys slaying are Darkspawn. Curriculum Vitae Years served 4 Bloody Years Profession Warrior Modius Operandi Garlenn will either be on the front lines reaping havoc with his Axe, or behind enemy lines to slit a few throats and break a few necks...before reaping havoc with his Axe. Skills Veteran Blade: Garlenn is good in a fight, using any means necessary to win. Terrain, his bulk, a low blow... Skullduggery: Rumors, contact information, underhanded deals, threats, whatever it takes to win. Cunning: Garlenn knows how to hold the high ground in a conversation, and can see an opportunity to exploit at every turn. Tough Hide: Garlenn should have been killed thrice over, but he's a bit too stubborn to die. He can take a cut and a punch, and fight through a stab if need be. Important Relations: Ragni Gildenhands: An opportunistic Dwarven dignitary that Garlenn holds contact with in the underground of Orlais, helping each other with information on good business opportunities between the surface and the stone without the greater population of Dwarves being burdened with such knowledge of where they get some of their precious goods. Marlienne: An Orlesian courtesan making her living in Denirim to wealthy merchants and nobles. Garlenn will sometimes help give her 'work' with contacts from Ragni, and in turn she provides Garlenn with the secrets they spill in bed. Galehar Swiftblade: Dalish Elf and former slave, and a known raider of merchant caravans. As long as Garlenn gets a profit and Galehar doesn't get too bloodthrirsty and kill innocents, Garlenn will sometimes provide him with new info on trade routes. Thoughts: Feelings on the other members of the group. To be filled in later. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition Large BattleAxe Long Knife 3 throwing daggers. Clothing & Armor Breastplate & Pauldrons Belted Tunic and trousers Gauntlets Combat Boots Tools & Things 6 Lockpicks 12 Caultrops Grappling hook and 35 ft of rope. utility belt . Potions & Poultices 3 health potions 2 fire bombs 2 smoke bombs Ingredients & Rations 5 pounds of jerky Water jug Large 10 OZ. Flask Bags & Pouches Satchel 5 interwoven pouches on belt. Odds and Ends ...

Shok regardait le nuage de poussière s'approcher de lui et du reste des Breakers, car il fermait la distance il devenait beaucoup plus clair au mage ce qui transpirait. Il a reconnu cette vue déplorable trop bien, de l'aura pratique du désespoir qui a vu le cadre du pilote de tête jusqu'à la cupidité trop réelle de ceux qui ont chassé la figure. Si ce n'était pas suffisant pour expliquer la situation en cours, la tenue mercenaire flagrante du groupe s'apparentait à la brandissement d'un membre du personnel d'un magister. "Champeurs de Tevinter." Le mot a laissé les lèvres de Shok dans un ton sec comme l'air du désert autour d'eux. Il avait eu sa part de loin avec ces peu de gens pendant son temps fuyant Seheron, des voyous et des tueurs impitoyables qui sont chargés d'assurer la propriété de Magister perdu. La mage imposante s'est légèrement serré les dents alors qu'il se rappelait quelques-unes de ses rencontres moins favorables avec les chasseurs, mais il a pu repousser cela et recentrer la tâche à portée de main. Alors que le groupe s'approchait, Shok regarda que le chef apparent tirait un boulon d'éclaircissement sur la figure qu'ils poursuivaient, frappant le cheval et l'envoyant à la fois et le cavalier jetant dans la terre. Ce fut quelques instants plus tard que Shok fut appelé à l'action avec le reste des Breakers par Ovra, qui les fit encercler la figure tombée et fermer tout chemin que les chasseurs avaient à lui. Ovra a donné l'ordre de ne pas s'engager jusqu'à ce que dit le contraire, ce qui a incité Shok à laisser les flammes qui craquaient dans ses poings mourir, bien qu'il n'ait pas baissé sa garde dans le moindre. Peu de temps après, il quitta sa place du cercle, chantant le groupe qu'il brisait la formation, et s'approcha de la figure abattue et de leur pied. Comme il s'est agenouillé à côté des deux Shok scanné sur la paire dans le plus grand détail que le temps permis. Le cheval était pire pour les marchandises, il était évidemment monté depuis un certain temps et avait été donné assez de coups avant même d'être soufflé par un boulon d'arcane. La pauvre créature a mis des sifflements et des pleurniches sur le sol, s'il n'était pas traité bientôt, il n'aurait pas beaucoup plus longtemps pour ce monde. Shok a eu une certaine sympathie pour la créature, mais sa préoccupation a été plus avec son cavalier qui malheureusement n'était pas en bien meilleure forme. Le cavalier était un jeune homme à poil rasé vêtu d'une chemise en coton teinté, vêtu d'un pantalon brun avec une ceinture où quelques poches pendaient lâchement, et enfin une ficelle avec une simple bague argentée sur elle accrochée autour de son cou. Il a été laissé dans une pile sur le sol à partir de la chute, il semblait heureusement qu'il était seulement inconscient. Le regardant sur Shok a remarqué que le jeune homme était poivré dans un certain nombre de blessures; quelques brûlures de l'explosion ardente qu'il a échappé, une entaille sur sa tête de sa chute qui était en train de couler du sang, et quelques autres nics divers et des éraflures qu'il a gagné de son épreuve. La majorité des blessures du jeune homme n'étaient pas aussi graves et pouvaient être corrigées rapidement, c'est-à-dire jusqu'à ce que Shok remarque son côté gauche. Le jeune homme avait un boulon arbalète intégré dans son côté et saignait assez fortement. Shok n'a pas perdu de temps à sauter dans l'action, ses mains se sont déplacées presque dans un flou alors qu'il a commencé à enlever la chemise de l'homme afin qu'il ait un meilleur accès à la blessure. "S'il vous plaît, gardez-les loin de moi, cela pourrait prendre un certain temps..." Le ton plat de Shok flottait vers ses camarades, bien que son attention n'ait jamais laissé le jeune homme devant lui. Il a rapidement commencé à retirer des provisions de son sac pour aider à réparer le jeune homme. Shok savait qu'il n'avait pas trop de temps pour s'occuper du jeune homme étant donné la force qui approche, mais étant donné le statut actuel du garçon, il devait faire quelque chose ou le groupe protégerait un cadavre à la fin de ce combat.

"Maraas kata, ataas shokra." Shok Male | 34 |Tal-Vashoth Basic Info Birthplace Qunandar, Par Vollen Appearance The intimidating aura that Qunari naturally give off do to their mountainous statures... is not present in Shok, in fact this Tal-Vashoth is rather meek in comparison to his Qun following brethren. He maintains the towering height that is trademark for his race, standing at a staggering seven feet tall, but he possess the thin build of someone who appears to have been malnourished for many years. His skin is a dull charcoal color and is racked with a nearly innumerable amount of scars, most noticeably the series of what seems to have once been stitch's on his lips, likewise Shok is missing a portion of his left ear. His cold, steel colored eyes share the same hue as his hair which sits in a mane of wild locks that hangs down to his mid back. Shok's horns have been cleanly sawn off leaving only stubs in their place. His fingernails are long and untrimmed, becoming borderline claw like. Shok's expression is always rather hard and some what sad, his eyes though piercing hold a slight sorrow to them. Shok's clothes are rather dull and unassuming. The major aspect of his attire is the large hooded coat that he dawns, it is made of black leather and seems to be battered from years of wear and tear. Under the coat he dawns a simple short sleeved grey cloth shirt and black pants along with a set of black boots. Background The lives of all young Qunari are the same, they are brought into a world of absolute order and have been bred for generation upon generation for a sole purpose, it was no different for the Qunari that would one day become Shok. Unlike many of his brutish kinsmen that have become rather infamous to the rest of Thedas this young Qunari never had the same drive to become a warrior, instead he was born with an inquisitive mind that thirsted for the answers that littered the world around him. While other children marveled at the explosions gaatlok made or sat in awe from the stories of the aban-ataashi that prowled the seas the young Qunari pondered about what substances made up gaatlok and how did the mighty sea beast's body produce such powerful bolts of lightning, he found himself not being able to rest until he found the answers to these questions. The tamassrans took note of these interests and directed the boy down the path of an ashkaari, the scientists and philosophers of the Qun, just as they always planned for the boy. The young Qunari, now known as Ashkaari, dove whole heartily into his schooling, excelling in a multitude of fields that were presented before him. From the philosophies and teachings of the Qun to the recipes of gaatlok and vitaar Ashkaari's sharp mind soaked it all in, even adding further insight that helped birth a number of advancements. What Ashkaari was most drawn to was study of medicine, he poured hours into learning about what made the body tic and just how he could help it heal be it from sickness or more physical injuries. Ashkaari was without a doubt a prodigy with all the makings of going far in his career, given the right circumstances Ashkaari could of found himself becoming the Ariqun, one of three leaders of the Qunari triumvirate. Unfortunately it seemed that fate had different plans in store for him. It was a day like any other for the boy, he had spent hours that day studying away in class with his peers. As he scanned over yet another set of books he began to feel it, a slight burning in his chest. It had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and without cause, but the heat continued to build and build, drenching the young Qunari into a sweat, until finally it happened. The last thing Ashkaari remembered before blacking out was an intense bright flash... and the smell of burning flesh. When he awoke he was being dragged away from his still ablaze classroom. That was the day that his magic reared itself to the world, the day that Ashkaari ceased to be, and the day Saarebas was born. Everything was stripped from Saarebas; his home, his peers, his promising career, even his very name, everything that made him who he was. He had his horns sawn off to brand him as a danger to his people, his lips sewn shut to prevent him from spreading his corruption to others, and bound to an arvaarad who would control his actions day and night. Just as he thought his life had reached its complete bottom Saarebas' karataam, a group of saarebas bound to one arvaarad, was assigned to go to the war scarred island of Seheron in order to aid with the struggle against both the remaining Tevinter forces as well as the growing Tal-Vashoth rebels. Despite all of this Saarebas was able to swallow back his grief and force himself to believe that this was the only way he could keep the world safe from himself. The time on Seheron began to meld together for Saarebas, each day the same as the last, days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. He would be awoken by his arvaarad, marched on patrol along with his other bound mages, and sicced upon any forces that his arvaarad deemed a threat to the Qun. At first it was hard, the killing and fighting haunted Saarebas' nightmares, but eventually the metallic smell of freshly spilt blood and the cacophony of screams spurred by foes being set ablaze were all second nature to him. It got to a point that Saarebas had almost forgot who he use to be... almost. A raid on a Tal-Vashoth camp, an event that had become so common to Saarebas one would never really think twice about it, but it was in the midst of this chaos that it happened. A stray spear thrown by a dying rebel pierced the heart of Saarebas' arvaarad. It was as if the world froze as the group of mages watched the life fade from the man who held their leash, the man that had bound them but gave them purpose for so many years. Despite the eternity that that moment felt like it eventually came to an end, and the morbid realization that followed quickly arose. Each of the saarebas knew what they now had to do, they had been left without an arvaarad, they were now corrupted in the eyes of the Qun and there was only one way to ensure they did not spread that corruption. The first of them to take their life was one of their younger members, a poor girl that was barely over the age of ten. One by one they prayed their last prayer before slitting their own throats, until their was only one left. This sole saarebas remained amongst the corpses of the closet thing he had had to a family, this same saarebas who was once a young boy who wanted nothing more than to explore and study the world around him, he found himself questioning again. Why did they have to die? Why did he have to die? Why did the Qun demand this sacrifice?... Was the Qun wrong? The questions whispered in Saarebas' mind as he held the dagger to his throat. They repeated over and over, growing louder and louder, until Saarebas found himself speaking them aloud. The Qun... is wrong. He said as he lowered the dagger. It took everything in his being not to join his brothers and sisters on the ground, but he knew that this was a waste, that each of these people who had so willingly gave their life in the name of the Qun were just that, people. Each of whom deserved the life that was stolen from them from people who were too closed minded to accept them for despite their nature. It was in that moment that Saarebas refused to let the fear of others bind him any longer, that he would fight for his right to live and question the world, and it was the moment that Shok was truly born. The days that followed were a wonder for Shok, it was the first time in years that he was free. He wandered the wilds of Seheron aimlessly, finding refuge under whatever tree would hold him for the evening and feeding on the animals that were unfortunate enough to cross his path. Those days of lost bliss came to an end when a group of the fabled fog warriors stumbled upon him. Be it from pity or curiosity, but the fog warriors did not outright attack Shok. They took the poor wretch back to their camp and even helped nurse his wounds, freeing his lips from their stiches and giving him a true place to rest. Shok had spent a few years among the fog warriors, he felt indebted to them for what they did. He learned much about their plight and cause, wanting no more than a place where their people could be free from the control of the war of the Qunari and Tevinter, Shok couldn't help but empathize. The fog warriors helped improve Shok's understanding of the common tongue and in return he aided them with their medical needs, it appeared they had been with out a proper healer for quite sometime and his expertise from his past life were greatly appreciated. He eventually was even taught their secret of creating their legendary fog, it was rather simple alchemy in Shok's opinion, but the symbolic importance was not lost on him. As Shok lived among the fog warriors he found himself studying a different field that he never expected in his previous life, magic. With the restriction that he once lived under lifted he poured everything he had into understanding the ebbs and flows of the mystic arts. Lacking a formal instructor Shok turn to studying the most active magic users on the island, the Tevinter mages. Shok managed to get ahold of quite a number of Tevinter tomes about magical practice, their techniques were a whole new world of magic to him. Eventually his studies lead him to the school of magic that made Tevinter so vilified, blood magic. Blood magic was more primal and powerful than anything Shok had ever felt, but more importantly it was the most free form of magic he could find, he did not need to tap into the Fade or rely on a demon or spirit, all the power came from him. Eventually Shok's studies started to pull him away from the fog warriors, he would not be able to continue to grow if he stayed with them. He thanked them for their kindness and swore that if they ever needed them that he would be there for them before he bid them a goodbye. Shok managed to smuggle himself off of Seheron to the mainland on a cargo ship with a small family of run away elven slaves who he quickly formed a bond with. He decided to remain with the group until he felt that they had reached a safe enough location outside of the reach of their master. They traveled together for a few weeks until they parted ways in a small village in the Free Marches. With that endeavor aside Shok was now in what might as well been a whole new world. He wondered Thedas, acquiring as much magical knowledge as he could. Shok found that whenever he needed coin, which was quite the new concept to him, he was able to offer his services as a healer. Eventually his travels lead him to Hasmal where he would find his services being requested by a group of mercenaries, Shok took the job seeing that the coin was far more than he had been receiving as a wandering healer. Personality A lifetime of having the world beat him down has left Shok rather cold, he finds it hard to not see the horrors that lay just beneath the surface of things. Despite this and all the atrocities he has both gone through and committed Shok still has a burning passion for healing, he tries his best to make the pain of life just a little bit easier where he can. He still has his inquisitive mind, he yearns to unlock the secrets of the world regardless of the form that they present themselves to him in. It should be no surprise that Shok does not shy away from getting his hands dirty, even if it means delving into more morally questionable actions. He has a soft spot for the downtrodden, being able to empathize with their situations. Shok is a rather straight shooter, he doesn't really know how to sugar coat things for people. Though he has renounced the Qun he still acts with the strong sense of purpose that a Qunari would. During his time with the fog warriors he learned to appreciate the art of story telling, he spent many a night enthralled by the tales of the group's fog dancer. It also seems to be quite the universal truth that many of the horned giants, Qunari or not, have quite the sweet tooth and Shok is no exception. Curriculum Vitae Years served A little bit under one year Profession Mage | Saarebas/Blood Mage Modius Operandi Shok is like a glass cannon, he unleashes powerful attacks but he can't take too much damage. His best place on the battle field is mid range where he can get close enough to lay into enemies, but still able to retreat if need be. Skills Healer Shok spent years studying both the body as well as the advances in Qunari medicines. Even without his magic Shok is able to provide medical aid in times of need. Qunari Born Many outsiders and even many converts to the Qun have a hard time understanding it, Shok dose not have this problem. Being born into it Shok had the lessons of the Qun drilled into his mind everyday. If one has questions about anything from Qunari beliefs to their military strategies Shok would be a great start. Forbidden Knowledge Unlike many others Shok does not hold back from diving into what many consider the darker and dangerous studies. Important Relations Fog Warriors The freedom fighters back on Seheron, Shok still feels that he owes them for everything they have done for him. Zathlen Family The elven family he traveled with, they are currently settled down in a small village in the Free Marches Thoughts Aseema Viranni "Much like a leaf in the breeze her course changes on a whim. The girl is young and adventurous, with a mind that questions the world around her. Though her inquisitive nature is commendable her naivety when it comes to understanding the effects of her actions will one day be her undoing." Eirny "A small flame in a raging storm, always on the verge of being blown out. Her passion for the care of others is amiable, I have seen far too little of it in my life. Her sharp mind and skill in healing is impressive, but she is far too trusting. Her willingness to hear the whispers of the beings from the Fade is concerning, how long until one leads her astray." Erinya - Ishanni "Like a diseased tree she appears to stand strong, but what lies beneath her bark is twisted. The woman is hurt in a way few understand, the Qunari call it asala-taar or soul sickness. I have seen it on Seheron, when a warrior goes through the fires of battle they may come back unscathed physically but missing a part of themselves far more important. I do not know what has broken her, but I know she drives on because that is all she has left to do." Garlenn Fellblade "Tough as the same stone his people worship. He is bold and crass, the dwarf lacks a sense of restraint. He does however understand that in this world some situations can only be resolved with bloodshed." Krios Ar Tae O Darkhold "Cold and strong like the mountains he hails from. He reminds me much of a Qunari; quite, focused, and tasked driven. I admire the fact that he is one of the more practical humans I have met in my travels." Ovra Paerat "Confident and silver tongued, her words flow like honey, but behind it all lays a viper. She reminds me of the ben-hassrath, her motives unknown but her actions absolute. Though I admire her skill I do not wish to turn my back to her less her dagger finds a place in it." Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition Shok, like many saarebas, does not chanle his magic from a staff but rather fires bolts of energy from his hands. The closest thing to a weapon he carries is a small dagger that he uses to draw his blood. Spells Saarebas A saarebas is not like most mages when it comes to combat, they attack harder and with a ferocity of an animal. Shok himself had always focused on ice and fire attacks to lay waste to his enemies. His magic is mainly offensive focused with the occasional spell thrown in to help him get away from enemies. Blood Mage Shok uses his blood to power his magic, preferring this over pulling power from the Fade. He does not have the level of control to manipulate the actions of others, but he is able to heal himself from the blood of fallen enemies as well as boil the blood within a foe to damage them. Clothing & Armor 1x Hooded Leather Coat 2x Cloth Shirt 2x Cloth Pants 2x Leather Boots Tools & Things 1x Medical Kit 1x Personal Magic Tome Potions & Poultices 2x Health Potions 1x Lyrium Potion 3x Regeneration Potion Ingredients & Rations 1x Waterskin ?x He always some how has some sort of small baked good, usually a type of cookie Bags & Pouches 1x Satchel 1x Coin Purse 1x Backpack Odds and Ends 1x Saarebas Mask 1x Tent 1x Bed Roll

Krios courut avec les autres dans le groupe pour encercler l'individu abattu, tout le temps que son bouclier était prêt et prêt à être utilisé comme couverture s'il en avait besoin. La poussière et la terre couverte de cendres rendaient chaque étape un peu plus laborieuse, et il a commencé à sentir les plus petites perles de sueur sur sa ligne de cheveux – bien que cela ait pu être plus dû à l'adrénaline de construction que l'effort physique. Ne vous engagez pas à moins d'être ordonné. Cela veut dire que vous Garlenn! » a ordonné à Ovra, ce qui a poussé Krios à viser un sourire sévère sur son camarade plus court. Il savait qu'il y aurait une réponse intelligente avant que Garlenn ne se sépare les lèvres. Se concentrant sur le cavalier, il a trouvé que ce n'était pas un scénario qu'il aimait particulièrement. Pour l'un, il préférait un peu plus de couverture, surtout quand contre les mages. Et deuxièmement, il n'aimait pas ce genre de situations tendues où il n'était pas clair si une bataille allait avoir lieu ou non. Il aimait les choses plus claires. En parlant en particulier à Tevinters, il s'est toujours senti comme s'il était sur le point d'obtenir un couteau dans le dos et il préférait juste sauter dans la hache d'abord. Heureusement, il n'était pas responsable. Hé, Aseema, préparez-vous peut-être un de ces murs de terre? Nous sommes un peu exposés ici et je préfère ne pas prendre l'une de ces étincelles de foudre au visage.. Krios a suggéré, regardant par-dessus son épaule vers le petit elfe Dalish.

Art by BEmmaa (I think) Krios Ar Tae O Darkhold Male | 36 | Avvar Basic Info Birthplace Frostback Mountains Appearance Krios stands at around 6ft1 and is of a hefty build, both naturally and as a result of physical fitness. As someone who has spent his entire life fighting either the elements or other living things, he has grown to appreciate the need to keep healthy and thus boasts an impressively toned body. Though even a child can kill a bear if they strike in the right places. His dark brown hair is long and relatively messy, which alongside his grown-out beard gives him a rather bestial appearance. Whilst his hair hides his large rugged jaw and smooths out some of his features, his gloomy ebony eyes give off a ‘don’t fuck with me vibe’. His body has the odd scar here and there, but nothing overally dramatic or noticeable. Background Krios was born to Darkhold, an Avvar clan in the Frostback Mountains. He was the eldest of two brothers, his younger brother being Rex. His mother was Tae, the clan’s Shaman, and his father was a warrior named Tuborg. Growing up Krios was trained how to survive the harsh mountain environment and like most of the boys trained to fight as often as he could. Due to his mother being the Shaman he also witnessed all manner or rituals and magic, but did not seem to have much in the way of magical ability himself (not that he minded). As soon as he was able he began joining the hunting parties and over the years honed his survival instincts and learnt how to fight against wild beasts, rivals/bandits, and the odd darkspawn. When he was in his late twenties his mother passed, prompting him and his brother to go on a pilgrimage to one of the ranges tallest peaks. They had been told by their mother that it was where the Great Bear Sigfrost (their patron God) sat and that on her passing they should go to him for wisdom. The two travelled for weeks and on many occasions came close to death, be it from malnutrition, the elements or threats. When at last they reached the peak, or what they thought was the right peak, Krios passed out and entered the Fade. Worried for his brother, Rex dragged Krios into a cave and wrapped him in furs before setting off towards what he though was shouting in the distance. In the fade Krios came face to face with Sigfrost (or at least a being claiming to be Sigfrost) and took the opportunity to challenge him for knowledge. He was successful and was rewarded with mystical energies that he didn’t fully understand. Upon waking he followed his brother’s markings a fair distance, surprised that he had been left alone and unaware of how much time had passed. After about an hour he came across a cave and found signs of battle. To his horror he found a couple of darkspawn corpses and his brother’s bow and quiver. For days Krios, still fatigued from the pilgramige, desperately tracked the small group of darkspawn down the mountains and into the Korcari Wilds. When he eventually caught up to them he was devastated to find that all that remained of his brother were odd scraps and limbs, that they had been using him to feed their bereskarn. In a bloodlust fuelled rage Krios charged into battle and begun butchering them all. It was only by virtue of his new abilities that he was able to defeat them, and only then barely. Filled with shame for failing to protect his brother, Krios could not bear to return to his tribe and instead set-off north, eventually finding himself in Fereldan where he resorted to Mercenary work. This is what led him to come into contact with The Oathbreakers Personality Krios is incredibly practical minded, mostly as a result of his environment. Whilst he is usually rather serious he can, on rare occasions, crack or take a joke. He responds badly to anyone attempting to intimidate him and has no fear of fighting. He is good under-pressure and whilst he likes to take charge of a situation, he will listen to the opinions and suggestions of others. As an Avvar he finds some cultural aspects of ‘regular life’ strange and finds the chantry and its beliefs irritating. He loves large meals, ale and sharing stories. He hates staying in one place for too long and becomes infuriated at the sight of bereskarn. Curriculum Vitae Years served 6 years Profession Spirit Warrior Modius Operandi Krios tends to fight on the front lines and gets up close and personal with his axe. Skills Good survivalist able to track and hunt. Very skilled fighter when using his axe and can use a sword nearly as well. Can shoot a bow but not too well (he's certainly not an archer, and prefers to use traps when hunting). Good climber. Has learnt moderate control over Beyond the Veil and Soulbrand, but is fatigued more as a result of using them. He continues to practice the use of spirit warrior techniques in his own time. He cannot swim. Important Relations: His father Tuborg - “I’ve not seen my old man since I left the tribe nearly a decade ago. He probably thinks I died along with my brother – and truth be told, it’s probably better that way.” WIP TBC TBH CBA Thoughts: Feelings on the other members of the group. To be filled in later. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition 1 waraxe – veridium 1 medium-sized round shield - His brother’s yew bow and quiver Spells Mages only. Keep it reasonable Clothing & Armor Wears a mix of studded leather armour and fur. He sometimes wears a massive hooded fur cloak over this. His axe sits holstered on his belt, his quiver on his thigh and his bow on his back (which is awkward to remove whilst wearing his cloak. Of course, he has to dress down when in a warmer climate. Tools & Things 1 water flask 1 drinking horn Flint and steel for fire starting Potions & Poultices 1 roll of bandages Ingredients & Rations 4 dried strips of beef 1 piece of salted pork 1 small loaf of bread, torn into smaller scraps Bags & Pouches Caries two small pouches that hang together on the back left of his waist, and are usually hidden by his cloak. Odds and Ends 1 small wooden figurine

Au fur et à mesure que l'image s'approchait, tout devint clair sur ce qui se passait réellement. Les yeux de l'elfe se sont élargis dans l'incrédulité quand un boulon de magie a frappé l'étranger supposé suspect venant à leur chemin. Le premier instinct d'Aseema a été de s'enfuir. Peut-être ne serait-il pas sage d'être trop long de peur qu'ils ne soient pris dans le straste. Et tout ce qui implique un tevinter mage en colère est une mauvaise nouvelle pour qui même elle-même ne prendrait pas de risque. Aseema était prête à sprinter dans la direction opposée quand Ovra a appelé pour qu'ils bougent, réalisant qu'elle voulait réellement courir directement vers le danger évident. -- Vraiment? Tous les autres étaient en garde, car ils se précipitaient immédiatement vers l'étranger blessé. Cela ne faisait pas partie intégrante du plan, et contrairement à leurs rencontres précédentes, ils avaient le choix de l'ignorer, mais bien sûr elle aurait dû penser que cela arriverait. On dirait que tout le monde s'est concentré sur ce petit parcours, mais même si elle n'était pas entièrement fan de la déscision, elle a beaucoup confiance dans l'instinct d'Ovra plus que n'importe qui d'elle-même. De plus, si cet étranger vaut la peine d'être poursuivi par un groupe de chasseurs, ils pourraient au moins en tirer profit. Certes, bien qu'elle soit plutôt curieuse de le savoir. Alors qu'elle rattrapait le groupe, elle pouvait voir les poursuivants s'approcher dangereusement. Aseema regarda le blessé, et à Shok, entendant Krios leur suggérer de leur donner un sourire rassurant. "C'est exactement ce que je pensais." Elle n'était pas sûre que ce serait "engager" assez pour l'autre partie, néanmoins c'était la seule façon de les gagner du temps. Claquant son personnel sur la surface sablonneuse, elle convoque un mur de pierre autour d'eux, juste assez pour les empêcher de passer rapidement à travers ou pour les protéger d'autres attaques. Elle occuperait cette position aussi longtemps que cela sera jugé nécessaire, ce qui, d'après les apparences, ne sera plus maintenant. "Mieux vaut se dépêcher avec ce Shok, ils arrivent à pleine vitesse."

Aseema Viranni Female| 26 | Elf Basic Info Birthplace The Dales Appearance A dark haired elf with a slender frame, soft features and a pale rosy complexion riddled with gentle freckles, Aseema sticks out a girlish charm given that she's fairly older than she actually looks. She cant even recall how many times the local guards mistake her to be some delinquent teenager on the streets and this would annoy her to an extent. Appearance wise she is fairly good looking though at most she wears her face uninvitingly, in a indifferent and frowning expression, undermining her true indicative beauty. Her eyes are most expressive, round and long lashed in a way that one could easily see though her even if she says so little. The elf considers this as one of her dire weaknesses as her helpless responses gives whatever she's hiding away so instantly and finds it a challenge to hide unnecessary feelings. Aseema hates the sun. From her experience, her pallid complexion is prone to the nastiest sunburns so most likely she dons over a cloak to keep her protected. Her hair is a dark wavy mess, usually tied up to keep it in place. Her choice of clothing would be robes and leathers, light enough to move around and protected at the same time. She carries around a satchel bag to contain her equipments. Background Aseema was practically born into keeperhood. While every mage born elf clamor and kill for at an opportunity, Aseema more likely considers it a misfortune rather than anything. This was never the case back when she was younger. As early as five her guardians instilled the fantasy and glamor of keeperhood, which the young Aseema fell for. It was hard training but she proved to be the best among her contenders. Aseema had very limited memory of her own parents. She never knew her father, who had died whilst defending the clan from slavers and her mother had to raise her alone until she disappeared one day. Her hunting pary went missing, and never knew what became of them. Only some speculations that they were intercepted by Tevinter slavers. She was then taken under the care of various relatives before officially becoming the keeper's first. One day she went exploring, a young Aseema happened to pass by an old abandoned home filled with nothing but old and worn out books. It was a shame for someone to leave them forlorn so as to not have them go to waste, and out of her own curiosity she secretly brought some back to the camp to read. Her interest of human books grew, from the pages she saw another world beyond the clan. It excited her, awakening the wanderlust within her and from then on fantasized of going to these worlds. She would regularly visit her favorite spot and contently indulge herself in literature all day. In many ways books had educated her about the world beyond the confines of her clan. The customs, the people, their clothing and politics. All these made her scrutinize the clan's own purposes, realizing how small and narrow they are compared. The dalish are a stagnant community, never really improving, nor learning anything new and Aseema knew from then on that she did not want to live that way. The isolation and limits of tradition dragged her, a concern she one day shared to her mentor. Yet the keeper was not so glad about what his young first had been mysteriously learning and later on found out that she had been bringing in foreign books inside the clan. He saw this as a distraction to her true duties, and ordered them to get rid off it. She was torn between her fate as the keeper, and her desire for adventure. Until one night of fitful argument had ultimately fixed her decision, on going on a spontaneous adventure that very next morning. Like any other young, naive and adventurous soul, Aseema stood by her desire to leave and hid on a carriage cart to be smuggled out the Dales, never looking back on the life she came to detest. It didn't take long for her to regret that decision however. The moment she was dropped to Hamsal, became the most tumultuous moment in her life. Aseema could not keep up with everything and since she wasn't exactly ready and well equipped for it, with no real knowledge aside from the books she read. What she saw had greatly disappointed her. Hamsal was really nothing like the progressive and colorful human cities that she had read about. Only that at any given moment was some sort of danger waiting to pounce at her around the corners. It was an over all peculiar and terrifying experience. Yet the young elf is not without spirit, at least to a certain extent. She navigated the city as best she could, at the same time careful and observant of any possible danger. But this wasnt enough prevention from muggers, slavers and one time, the Circle as she carelessly made a public display of her magical abilities. Her naivete was mostly to blame for this series of unfortunate encounters. The days she spent in the city, her luck slowly depletes with it. Though she found work at a local tavern, and is doing a terrible job at it, had somehow helped her get by, but one day things started to turn around when she was given an opportunity for mercenary work. Something that she never really considered before but at that point she gladly went for it. The promise of adventure hooked her right in, and got rid of her plain tavern job. It was an opportunity she could not miss that she practically threw herself at her employer, but ultimately her abilities proved her to be a well deserved addition to the Oathbreakers. Personality Aseema has this unquenchable thirst for knowledge. She always has this desire to learn new things and the drive to delve into the unknown and unexplored. Anything new to her is bound to gain her interest, it goes without saying such character is prone to some trouble along the way. She lives by a "what could possibly go wrong" attitude, hence uncaring of the consequences and willingly taking risks whether light or heavy makes no difference to her, all for the sole purpose of learning. Although she says that, when bad decisions came with regrets, it's one thing that will eat her the most. Seen as quiet, uncaring and indifferent, she lights up like forest fire when her interests are a subject, her eyes would glimmer at anything exciting and mostly she has a hard time concealing it. Basically, she's always the first to lose at a game of wicked grace. Growing up in seclusion from the outside, it's only natural for her to be wary among new people, this did not help her much at the beginning however the time she spent with the group years later had made her got over that. In those ten years, she remarkably matured and grew, and more so understanding the world in both viewpoint and action. Aseema still hung around during those ten years, considering that she has nowhere else to go if she ever did. Sure there are other opportunities to take, and her thirst for adventure would take her between continents but at the end of the day she finds herself coming back to them, she grew so sentimental that she could never imagine living a life without them, more than she likes to admit. Curriculum Vitae Years served A decade Profession Mage | Keeper Modius Operandi Aseema does both offensive and defensive with a preference for long ranged combat, as her obvious lack of physical strength makes her useless in upfront combat unless she's shapeshifting. Skills Dalish Lore- Has a reasonable amount of knowledge about the Dalish, being born and educated there. Alchemy- Has a wide range of knowledge with herbs and alchemical healing. Stealth- Developed from years of keeping away from trouble, she can manage to slip into anything if it calls for desperate measures. . Important Relations: Keeper Falael - Clan keeper, mentor. The closest father figure she has since her own. A serious and demanding man, yet compassionate and approachable. They had a heated argument because of her own doubts of the clan and keeperhood. She regrets her actions towards her up to this day, and wishing she could go back and be forgiven, only to give her some ease. Nayara - Mother. The clan's head hunter, one day went missing together with her party. It was believed that they were ambushed or killed by Tevinter slavers while on their hunting. A fun and loving mother to Aseema. One of the fondest memories of she has of her is the lullaby she hums when putting a very young Aseema to sleep, carrying in her arms and the smell and feel of her long dark hair against her cheeks. Felix - Barman, old boss. The moment Aseema came into the tavern, he instantly figured the girl wasnt from around the city. He almost pitied her, and the moment he realized she seemed like needing some help. Though he may be twice as demanding and hard assed as the keeper, he was kind enough to offer her a job and a place to stay. Aseema would still visit the tavern if she had the time, if only to unwind and have a mug of his good stuff. Thoughts: Feelings on the other members of the group. To be filled in later. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition -Heartwood Staff -Carving knife Spells -Primal magic- the manipulation of earth and sky, can be used as both offensive and defensive. Aseema can conjure up a wall of earth or armor for protection against instantaneous attacks, or project lightning towards enemies. -Shape shifting- When things get up close and personal, she turns into a bear and maul the nearest bad guy. She only knows how to shift into one type of animal. Clothing & Armor -Leather Armor -Short fur cloak -Leather boots -Dark hand wraps Tools & Things -Herbalist kit -Leather bound journal -Charcoal pen Potions & Poultices -Healing Poultice (3x) -Healing Potion (2x) -Lyrium Potion (2x) Ingredients & Rations -Bundles of freshly picked elfroot -Waterskin - Bags & Pouches -Satchel Bag -Bandolier Odds and Ends ...

Ne vous engagez pas à moins d'être ordonné. Ça veut dire que tu es Garlenn! Erinya ne s'engagerait jamais, sans raison valable. Mais ce qui ferait une bonne raison est une toute autre chose pour elle, ce pourrait être un son ou la façon dont son ennemi clignote, ce pourrait être la façon dont un nuage jette son ombre ou juste son doigt se démangeant. L'une de ses 21 flèches, d'origine elfique, était déjà tirée, la gorge de l'inconnu étant sa cible. "Vous avez autant d'indice que vous allez épeler..." elle chuchotait de son point de vue, se tenant plus en arrière mais un peu plus haut que le reste de son équipe qui était maintenant autour de l'homme tombé. Son sang soulageait déjà la terre blanchie, il ne vivrait pas longtemps comme ça encore Shok était déjà au-dessus de lui, quel que soit leur petit standoff au milieu de nulle part. Il leur a fait confiance, chacun d'entre eux, avec sa vie et Erinya ne serait pas celui qui l'a déçu. Après tout, ils avaient traversé bien pire. Ce sont peut-être des mercenaires et leur petite bande d'inadaptés n'a peut-être pas exactement l'air d'anciens combattants endurcis par la bataille, mais ils étaient assez qualifiés, c'était certain. Et il y avait de la confiance entre eux, au-delà de toutes les différences, il y avait de la confiance. Elle pourrait enlever la mage et peut-être un ou deux des autres s'il en était ainsi avant que ses camarades ne se battent de près. "Ma hal, Ghilana mir din'an!" * elle a crié à Elvish, en comptant sur Asseema et Eirny pour faire savoir aux autres et choisir tranquillement leurs cibles. Après tout, Erinya a reconnu le fait que le mage portait l'insigne de Tevinter et l'Imperium était infâme pour ne pas avoir accepté les elfes et à peu près tout le monde sans talent magique ou d'origine noble. Elle contrôlait sa respiration et se concentrait sur le mage, elle savait que le reste des Oathbreakers serait plus que capable de manipuler ces ennemis. "Je vais guider la mage jusqu'à la mort!"

Erinya - Ishanni ♀ | 34 |Elf-Blooded Human Basic Info Birthplace Wandering Hills, Anderfels Appearance Erinya is of slighty more than average height, with a very slender physique. Her long black hair vastly contrast with her -nowadays- pale skin. She looks completely human despite her partly Elven origin although the angular features of her face can remind someone of an Elf. Her striking blue eyes, almost gray, are her best feature as many have said. All in all, Erinya used to be a beauty you don't meet everyday, especially in the lands she was born in. However, life hasn't treated her well and that shows. Her face looks pale and gaunt, full of freckles and proof of the hard times she's been facing in both her days and nights. Her vibrant black hair now look sickly and weak and her eyes have lost their spark. Her once slender body now looks fragile, ready to fall to the winter. But she's strong, she's a survivor, always has been. Background Erinya was conceived somewhere in the southern-most parts of the Brecilian Forest, according to Mother's parting letter. Her father, some random Dalish Elf who fell in love with the witch or as Mother put it "...fell in love because I was something he had never seen before". Her mother, one of the infamous Chasind and quite possibly a witch, she never admitted to it. For some unknown reason of hers, Mother travelled all the way to the arid and barren Anderfels, one of the literally worst places one can live and raise a child in, settled among the Orth tribe of the Wandering Hills and soon after, she gave birth to Erinya right in the middle of summer. Growing up is hard and growing up in the Anderfels is much, much harder. From the constant threat of Darkspawn, the scarcity of food, scarcity of law, scarcity of life in general to the often deadly weather itself. Erinya was around 8 when her mother made her watch a genlock slaughter an innocent old man before she sent an arrow right between its eyes as it had just noticed them. "Earn it." she said, "Earn your right to stand and defend it until Death himself comes to take you." She never forgot her words, not really. Eight year old Erinya wasn't shocked nor scared, not even scarred. She understood at that moment, how fair the world is through its unfairness. Some are born to suffer, others to live in pleasure. Some are as important as a bucket with a hole and others make their names echo for all eternity. The Orth took them both in as their own, they faced no prejudice, ever, thus mother and daughter both considered themselves a part of the tribe. Erinya learned how to use the bow and the dagger, how to hide in plain sight and how to survive without water from them, her body getting much more exercise than she needed since a very young age. They taught her everything they taught their own younglings and even more as was somewhat of a prodigy, her ability with a bow matching that of the tribes's best marksmen. By her 11th birthday, Erinya had already killed a genlock, didn't even blink when she saw the arrow slide right through the opening of it's rusty helmet, she was already preparing another arrow for its also unlucky ally. Soon, she and her mother left the Anderfels and stayed for almost a year in the Korcari Wilds where her mother introduced her to her people, the Chasind, who taught her the ways of the forest and of the tribe. Erinya always had a mind that easily took in new things and this time wasn't different. They travelled back home, as she felt about the Anders, and once again joined the tribe she had grown with. That also didn't last as Mother disappeared one day, leaving behind only a letter written in Chasind where she wished her luck and gave some information about why she left that Erinya hasn't told anyone. As the years passed and Erinya was now an adult and a very important part of the tribe, it didn't take long for her to receive various marriage proposals from the tribe's up and coming singles. But ambition burned inside of her and staying in the Wandering Hills for her whole life was never an option. Quietly, without any fuss, she packed and left on one especially hot and humid night. She made her way to the capital, Hossberg, where she met Anteus, a mercenary of the Green Men, a band comprising of the best marksmen in Thedas meant to protect caravans travelling towards the distant port of Leysh through these always dangerous lands. After convincing him that she had the potential to be in the company, she joined them and led the life of a mercenary, through its many ups and downs for three years, until one fateful day a couple of months after her 22nd birthday when they came across a group of Grey Wardens fending off a particularly large band of Darkspawn. Their combined forces saved the day and the caravan with minimal loss of life yet the highlight was Erinya, saving the Senior Warden Taliesin's life by shooting down a bolt headed towards him mid air. Now, she knew of the Order of the Grey and always held them in high regard but never did she seriously think about joining them. "It's not a profession, it's a Calling." the Warden told her before inviting her back to Weisshaupt with him, as a Warden-Recruit. She was pretty happy with her life but she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't meant to be just a mercenary either. So she said yes and soon enough, the magnificent headquarters of the Order stood in front of her. There were five other recruits alongside her, all hand picked by Taliesin. One of them was Taliesin's son, Feodor, the man she would end up marrying and conceiving a child with, in the night they spent together before their Joining. They were the only ones to survive the Joining and Erinya was now one of the Grey, something which gave her purpose and filled her with the ambition to use her skills for helping the people of the Anderfels. The next four years of her life were quite possibly her best, she was truly happy. They planned their future with Feodor and for the following months the two Wardens would travel on their own throughout the Anderfels, helping everyone they could while falling deeper and deeper in love with each other, until the effects of pregnancy brought her back to Weisshaupt where she gave birth to a healthy girl, Elleria. They eventually got married and Taliesin took her as his daughter, naming her Ishanni, the name of his long dead wife. She felt that she belonged, this was her little family and she would do everything in her hand to make the world a safer place for her daughter and her husband as well as the people. Soon enough, Erinya or Ishanni, was well enough to start travelling again, with Elleria being taken care of by her grandfather, Taliesin, since in her own head, while she did miss moments she would never get back, she was certain that the world her daughter would live in, would be safer. This went on for a few months until the couple decided to settle down in the Wandering Hills where rareky Grey Wardens ever set foot due to its remote location and lack of importance, to be frank. The three lived there together, growing and maturing. No dream lasts forever though. It was an ordinary call for help like many others but this time, a father of four was possessed and threatening to burn his children alive along with his house. And Erinya just wouldn't allow that to happen. She used her deathroot extract to enter a deep trance combined with an Elven ritual Feodor knew, certain he would drive the demon back, proud of her skills and prowess regardless of the fact that it was the first time she was entering the Fade. She did manage to drive the demon back and the farmer was safe as well as his kids. So was Feodor. But she wasn't. Countless voices starting vying for her attention soon after, her dreams started being plagued by nightmares and soon she even started seeing visions of horrible things. Feodor, worried about her, immediatelly wrote to his father who begun the long trek to the Wandering Hills alongside two Warden mages, certain that Erinya had been possessed. They weren't fast enough. They found her soaked in blood, clutching little Elleria's corpse for dear life, Feodor also dead on their bed, his throat slit, whispering incoherent things, crazed. She doesn't really know what happened before or what happeed next, she's certain that she died with them, with her people. She has no clue why she still wakes up despite being dead. On her way to the Circle located in Hossberg in order for her to be kept under the watchful eye of the mages, she escaped and ran, ran as far as her feet could take her and lost track of time. She could have been roaming for months, maybe years, with no recollection of what she did or how she survived. But she did survive and found herself joining a band of mercenaries, the Oathbreakers, her best bet to avoid anyone asking too many questions or coming across familiar faces. She was an outlaw after all and a particularly dangerous one, at that. And there has she been until today, fighting and living, day after day, a usually empty husk of a person driven by instinct and some sort of twisted willpower, barely having any memories of anything at all. Personality Erinya usually isn't someone you can talk to. Aloof and talking to herself or disappearing for hours at a time, speaking in riddles and acting without the least bit of logic. She rarely ever is herself and those moments are the worst because that's when she remembers. That's when she realizes. That's when it all comes rushing back and she denies herself the pleasure of slitting her own throat or just falling on the first blade she finds drawn against her. "You gotta earn it." she keeps repeating to herself, gotta earn death. Only time you can somewhat get a glimpse of just who she was is during battles when her training takes over and her face looks more like the Grey Warden of the Anders who had saved countless lives and less like a complete, Fade-Touched, lunatic. Curriculum Vitae Years served •5 years, 11 months and 8 days. Profession Rogue | Ranger Modius Operandi Erinya rarely ever dirties her hands with blood in gruesome melee. Her bow and arrows never failed her and she intends to keep it that way. Being a master ranger makes her always capable of finding a suitable location to oversee the battle and send her arrows flying in order to support her allies first and rain fury on her enemies second. Skills •Ranger's Boon: Summon Wolf / Bear / Spider.* •Green Men Represent: One of the best marksmen in Thedas. •Chasind Survivalist: When in the woods, Erinya is always the hunter, never the hunted. Stealthy, agile and with a knack for ambushes as well as capable of finding everything she needs to survive. •Fade-Touched: Since she entered the Fade almost eight years ago in order to try and fight a demon who had possessed a single father of four, she hasn't been all there. Visions, voices, vivid dreams, Erinya has been plagued by them. •Multilingual: Erinya, other than being fluent in Common, can also speak Dalish, Ander as well as Chasind. *ᴰᵉᵖᵉᶰᵈᶦᶰᵍ ᵒᶰ ᶫᵒᶜᵃᵗᶦᵒᶰ⋅ Important Relations: •Taliesin Far-Eye: Senior Grey Warden, last known location was the Order's HQ, Weisshaupt Fortress. Taliesin was Fedor's father and the one who conscripted her into the Grey Wardens. •Mother: Of Chasind origin and almost certainly a witch, Erinya's mother is probably still alive, back in the Korcari Wilds, home of her people. They haven't been in contact since she left Erinya, right after her 13th birthday. Thoughts: •Shok: Erinya never really had enough of an interest in the Qunari, in order to want to find out more about them yet Shok, for the short time he's been with the company, has always been eager to share his knowledge. She enjoys his straightforward manner and is proud to shed blood along side him. •Garlenn Fellblade: Erinya always felt that the Dwarf has been a kindred spirit, a fellow veteran of the ever-present Darkspawn threat and someone who always followed his own path in life, no matter how difficult that appeared to be. She trusts him with the lives of anyone in the Oathbreakers and gladly follows him into battle. •Krios: If you wanna see how much of a good hand you've been dealt in life, join a mercenary company." Erinya always said. She knows that Krios carries a deep sorrow and a heavy burden, she can see it in his eye and the Avvar warrior can probably see the same in her. She always enjoys sharing some ale with him while talking shit about the Chantry. •Aseema Viranni: The Elf has been among the Oathbreakers pretty much since they were formed yet this kind of profession has yet to corrupt her childlike curiosity, the way she lights up whenever something that interests her, is brought up. Erinya likes her, she's one of the more light-hearted of the group and enjoys delving into Elven history with her. •Ovra Paerat: Having been in the Oathbreakers the most, Erinya has become familiar with the Dwarf, she has been there since day one and pretty much runs the company. She hasn't really bonded with her though, the Bard has her secrets and Erinya has hers. Yet she's part of their group, spilling blood and sweat together and Erinya will fight for her like any other. •Eirny: The Elf has been one of the newer members of the company thus Erinya isn't as familiar with her as with the rest. However, she's keeping an eye on her, as she doesn't think the City Elf has really tasted the true bitterness of the road, bloodshed and all. According to her story, she's led a pretty sheltered life for a mercenary, Erinya feels. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition •Ma Vhenan: What can be said for Erinya's bow? Created by one of the greatest woodsmiths among the Dalish, it is made to fit her hands perfectly, a priceless wedding gift from her husband and his family which has served her greatly through the years. Comes with a 21-arrow quiver and the runes inscribed on it carry the motto of the Grey Wardens as well as the Elven name given to Erinya during her wedding. •1x Generic Steel Dagger •1x Quiver •21x Steel Tipped Fine Elven Arrows. Clothing & Armor •Warden Scout's Tunic: Despite having deserted the Grey Wardens for her reasons, Erinya still practically lives in her Warden days armor although it's not as clean these days and there's thick leather sewn all over it in order not to give away this part of her past. Too much attention would be fatal as she's still a wanted woman. •1x Thick Leather Thigh-High Boots •1x Flax Shirt, 1x Flax Pants •1x Traveler's Cloak, Dark Green Tools & Things •1x Bow, String & Arrows Repair and Maintenance Kit* •1x Needle & Thread •1x Wolf Whistle •1x Bear Lure •1x Spider Lure •1x Herbalism Kit *Oils and fine tools. Potions & Poultices •2x Health Potions •3x Injury Kits Ingredients & Rations •14x Deep Mushrooms •1x Waterskin •4x Crow Poison Vials •1x Quiet Death Vial •2x Flasks of Deathroot Extract Bags & Pouches •1x Medium Sized Traveller's Backpack. •2x Vial Pouch Odds and Ends •1x Steel Weathered Grey Warden insignia •1x Diary •1x Dirty Ol' Child's Doll •2x Wedding Rings •1x Chasind Bone Medallion

C'était la Nuit des moissons, et la foule habituelle s'était rassemblée dans la maison de Katar. Vingt corps entassés dans la modeste demeure, une foule plus grande que d'habitude à cause de la tempête qui faisait rage à l'extérieur. Javus toujours fidèle remplissait le rôle de conteur. Longs cheveux gris tombant dans des grappes groupées vers le bas jusqu'au petit de son dos, ombres produites par le feu de bougie clignotant jouant hors de la peau ridée brune avec chaque gesticulation. Les autres se côtoyaient autour de la table basse, sirotaient leurs boissons et écoutaient. Certains anciens chuchotent entre eux alors que les enfants écoutaient chaque parole mêlée. À l'autre bout de la table, un jeune homme sourit alors qu'il écoutait un conte trop familier. Et pour sauver la jeune fille, Quirinus s'est aventuré au fond du sol. Au-dessous même des tunnels les plus profonds des nains. Quand il était sur le point d'abandonner et de tourner autour, il a trouvé une grande porte scellée par des pouvoirs depuis longtemps. Les adultes qui écoutaient encore s'affontent en sirotant leurs boissons Ils avaient tous passé ce qu'ils ressentaient comme une vie à écouter des histoires de Javus, comme leurs parents l'avaient fait avant eux. L'œil de Javus est tombé sur le jeune homme assis à l'extrémité opposée. Le bébé de la famille Katar, bien qu'étant lui-même un homme. Cheveux noirs et un teint caramel, il pourrait être une version plus jeune du conteur aîné. Javus sourit alors que leurs yeux se rencontraient en mettant ses bras sur la table pour regarder plus facilement à travers l'obscurité. Et savez-vous ce que Quirinus a trouvé lorsqu'il a ouvert cette porte Anto? » Antoridus a toujours été Anto, comme tel était le mode de vie. Le jeune homme fait semblant de penser pour le bien des enfants dont l'attention est maintenant centrée sur lui. Si je me souviens bien, ce n'était pas la jeune fille gardée par un grand et terrible dragon. Les enfants gazé comme Javus hurla la tête en accord solennel. Et si stable avec un grand souffle et tirant sa petite lame, Quirinus chargé. C'est à ce moment - là qu'apparaissent quelques femmes qui apportaient avec elles l'odeur d'un repas fraîchement cuit. En ce qui concerne les plaintes des enfants, l'histoire a été mise à l'écart pour le moment à mesure que le repas était pris en charge. Avant qu'Anto puisse toucher le bol de viande et de légumes, une voix lui cria. Il est temps de s'en aller.Il a tourné son attention vers le son. Tout à coup assis à côté de lui était un petit enfant baigné de blanc pulsant, mais d'une manière ou d'une autre regardant plus clair que le reste. Elle le regarda avec impatience avec un regard de pitié sur son visage. Mais l'histoire n'est même pas encore terminée. » Anto a commencé à protester alors que la jeune fille tendait la main et le touchait. Et en un instant, il pouvait tout sentir à nouveau, la douleur dans son côté, les battements de sa tête. La demeure autour de commencer à disparaître au-delà de la lumière. Vous avez promis Anto. Le rêve était déjà parti. Un soupir. Je sais. Instinctivement, il cracha la saleté qui s'était logée dans sa bouche pendant la chute. La douleur remontait dans son corps se nichant dans sa poitrine avant de rayonner vers l'extérieur à travers ses extrémités. Il a poussé les yeux ouverts, la vision brouillée de poussière et de sang. Un personnage s'est agenouillé au-dessus de lui, mais il n'a pas pu trouver tous les détails. Une main a essayé de la saisir, mais il n'a pas trouvé la force. Etes-vous le Créateur? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ovra regarda dans l'anticipation silencieuse pendant que le parti de chasse de Tevinter se rapprochait. Les autres se déplacent autour d'elle pour se mettre en position. Sentant la présence facile de Krios et l'intensité fébrile de Krios naturellement comme les deux autres membres plus physiquement du groupe. Dans cette périphérie, elle regardait Erinya, Eirny et Assema prendre leurs propres positions. Elle entendit l'appel d'Erinya, et bien que son Elvish n'était pas le meilleur depuis ses études, elle en comprit l'essentiel. "Hey Eirny?" Ovra a appelé sans jamais retourner la tête en arrière pour regarder le jeune guérisseur d'esprit en gardant ses yeux concentrés sur les coureurs approchants. Sur mon signal, pouvez-vous donner un peu de mal de tête à nos amis? Le sol sous ses pieds grondait comme des murs de terre braquée se levaient autour d'eux. Alors qu'Ovra avait des doutes sur la façon dont la couverture ferait contre une autre de ces boules de feu, elle leur donnerait au moins une certaine couverture des arbalètes si les choses venaient à cela. En respirant profondément et en croisant les bras autour de sa poitrine, le nain attendait que la fête de Tevinter s'approche pour lui taper le pied dans un rythme régulier. Tandis qu'ils montaient, les chasseurs formaient lentement un positionnement protecteur autour du mage qui prenait le centre de la formation et avec un fil de sa main faisait partie du mur de pierre courbé vers l'intérieur s'ouvrant vers le haut comme une porte, afin qu'ils puissent voir le groupe face à face. Le terrible bruit de croûte qui suivit alors que la terre marchait vers l'avant contre la terre. La femme parlait encore assis au sommet de son cheval, embrayant facilement son bâton d'une main, ses robes d'ébène et d'or coulant facilement dans le vent. Maintenant, qu'avons-nous ici? Une opportunité pour les affaires. ► Ovra a expliqué avec un brillant flash de dents blanches. Un coureur tombé pour une pièce de monnaie facile. La mage s'est écroulée en regardant Ovra. Dweomer, ce qui vous donne l'impression que vous pouvez interrompre notre entreprise. Ovra s'est évanouie. Parce que c'est notre affaire maintenant. Elle a résisté à la gestation jusqu'au reste des Breakers. Et si tu ne te maries pas... on pourrait juste te tuer. Immédiatement, elle sentait que les arbalètes commençaient à se lever à point sur elle. La femme soupira pour arrêter ses hommes. Calm vers le bas. Calme-toi. Il n'y a pas encore besoin d'autres effusions de sang. » Elle donne un petit sourire sans émotion à Ovra alors qu'elle truffait à travers une poche à ses côtés, produisant cinq pièces d'or tenues à distance entre chacun de ses doigts. Est-ce que ça suffira? - Juste cinq? - Ovra a contrecarré avec un snort. Ovra était une patiente à bien des égards, mais s'il y avait une chose qu'elle détestait, c'était des gens qui la traitaient comme une idiote. Pourquoi tu nous prends? Imbéciles? Je vous prends pour ceux qui ne veulent pas être abattus comme les rats qu'ils sont.Le mage a répondu sa voix aussi froide que les gels le soir, une étincelle d'électricité qui craque à la vie à travers le noir de son bâton. 20. Ovra répliqua avec un shrug. Le mage a ri. Voulez-vous mourir Dweomer? Ovra a déclaré avec son plus grand sourire pour l'instant. Mais, évidemment, vous le faites. Et avec un flash de mouvement, le nain tira et lâcha sa hache de sa main la lame claquant dans le bâton de la femme qui la branlait de sa main. J'espère qu'Erinya aura assez de distraction pour lui tirer dessus. Immédiatement, elle se plie au sol pour éviter la réponse inévitable des boulons arbalètes qui suivraient les cris comme elle l'a fait. "Eirny! Frappe!

Art by Irma Suriani Ahmed Ovra Paerat Female | 33 | Dwarf Basic Info Birthplace Montsimmard, Orlais Appearance Short and fierce there is no doubt of Ovra's dwarven blood. Moving with surprising speed and refined dexterity, all supported by a muscular if not compact frame given her stature. Her skin is cast in tan hues, strange given the pallor of most of her kind, resultant from the life of traveler. It is not a pristine canvas though marked with scar tissue accumulated over the years. It all results in a sort of admirable stoic beauty akin to that of the mythic siren, beautiful and alluring to behold but probably best to keep your distance. A task that is harder said than done, given the constant welcoming grin the woman carries upon her face, though it is unsure if she is welcoming in you, or the ever constant specter of death that she enjoys teasing. Her red hair is kept relatively short, its choppy texture contrasting with the two braids she wears which are adorned with heavy metal rings that are emblazoned with dwarven script. They fall to either side of her eyes, two small orbs of green, that seem to be hiding something behind their ever present glimmer. Her clothing choices are muted in their coloring nothing to really draw the eye. Background The daughter of a well-regarded Blacksmith in Montsimmard. Her mother dying of consumption when she was young. She had a solid roof over head, her dad was a good man, and she didn't have to worry about where her next meal was going to come from. What was absent in trouble was instead replaced with tales. Her father, Ulin fancied himself something of a storyteller and young Ovra was of course, his most attentive audience member. Her favorite stories was that of her ancestor Tovka. Tovka, was a skilled smith, but her true passion came in smiting foes; both these skillsets would find use in the Fourth Blight in her role as one of the Stone's Bastards recruited by the Grey Warden Garahel. As Ulin told it, it was an epic tale of love and betrayal, glory and honor in such a way that would of made even the old Paragons proud. In the Tovka would die fighting off hordes of Darkspawn, to let Garahel escape and eventually slay the Archdemon. Her axe was all that was recovered, which still hung above the Paerat Smithy as a reminder of what they always starve to emmulate. Heart filled with such tales Ovra always sought out adventure. Rather spending her time exploring the streets and rooftops of Montsimmard than learning the ways of the smithy. Ovra's adventures would lead her into making acquaintances with some local troublemakers. Metaphorically and literally looked down on her for being a Dwarf, this pushed Ovra to keep on taking more and more dangerous dares to prove herself. Smear cow dung on the Guard Captain's bed, pick pocket the crotchety old merchant, things of that nature. After a while though they ran out of dares to give the girl, so she started to make up her own challenges to keep herself entertained. It would be one these "challenges' that would change her life. She had deiced to pick the pocket of a well off noble man that had been frequenting the market the past week. The older gentlemen who despite his fine wears, always traveled alone caught the eyes of Ovra as the perfect mark. This man was in fact Duke Yvain de Leclerc, a seasoned bardmaster. It is to go without saying that Leclerc was able to catch Ovra in the act. But still the young girls aptitude was admirable, and Dwarven entertainers were an exotic sight in Orlais, and if the nobles loved anything it was rare sights to behold. Leclerc with schemes already forming in his head would offer to train the girl in the ways of the Bard. And so in a week's time when Yvain was to head back to Val Royeaux, Ovra accompanied him. To his credit Ulin was as accepting as a parent could in the situation. As he knew in his heart that his young daughter would never be satisfied stuck in the confines of Montsimmard, for adventure was rooted in their blood after all. And so Ulin gifted his daughter with Tovka's axe so that her family would always be at her side. The next three years would be breaking down the girl she used to be and replacing it with the bard that she was to become. She was pushed physically to her limit, her sparring lessons beginning from day one with a sharpened blade, every cut and gash its own little lesson. She was to learn everything: poisons, history, architecture, musicianship, and even dining etiquette. For bard were not just spies and assassins, they were true masters of the Game itself. Yet maybe most importantly she was taught the most essential skill in a bard's repertoire, control. To repress and dictate her own feelings and thoughts, to not give away anything, to put up as mask as needed to conceal the truth. And in the winter of her third year, she was deemed ready. The life evidently wasn't meant to last. At the age of twenty two, Yvain was poisoned by one of his rivals, perishing shortly after. At this moment in time, Ovra could of done the sensible thing and picked up where Yvain had left off. She did after all have access to all his contacts, and allies. But for reasons unknown, Ovra slipped away into the night shortly after the funeral. Maybe it was simple wanderlust, but whatever it was Ovra was on the road again. She would go wherever the winds would take her, playing at roadside taverns to earn a meal and bed for the night, and occasionally supplementing her income with her... other skills Her travels would eventually take her to Hasmal. Her she would sign on to a job protecting a Merchant headed towards Starkhaven, since she was going that way anyway. The forming of the Breakers wasn't her idea, but she didn't oppose it either. She is something of a coordinator for the group these days, using her old contacts and skills to find them work. Personality Ovra's a difficult one to read, bard training does that of course. She projects this charismatic aura of sheer confidence about her, like nothing could ever go wrong as long as the dwarf's still standing. The jokes and witty remarks roll off her tongue with ease. And she's something of a shameless tease using her femininity and all its assets in matters of persuasion. In a way it all seems effortless. And truthfully it is. It's also all just another one of her lies, a mask like any other. There are signs of it of course the fact that in the ten years that some of her companions have known her, they know little about her past beside that she was born in Orlais. And how she can threaten a child at knife point and seemingly not feel bad about it. And yet even the aloof bardic demeanor is still a sort of mask. As below the surface are bubbling insecurities and regrets, kept ever in check through her training, but always present. The same insecurities that made her flee Orlais, and the same ones that wonder if she was ever a good person to begin with. Curriculum Vitae Years served 10 Profession Rogue | Bard Modius Operandi Ovra is very particular about making sure people are dead. So she prefers to keep up close and personal, with her hand axe and dagger. Skills - Move in Shadow: Ovra is an expert upon the honored past time of how not to be seen. - Bardic Lore: Jack of all trades, master of none. As a Bard you learn a little bit of everything. Small reference pools are for amateurs - Skulduggery: Poisons, Lockpicking, pickpocketing, eavesdropping. The Game frowns upon those who don't fight dirty. - Balladeer: Ovra knows how to hold a tune obviously. - She Knows a Guy: A deep web of contacts scattered throughout Thedas provide Ovra with some well needed insight. Important Relations: Ulin Paerat: Father, Smith, generally a good man. According to her contacts in Orlais her father is still doing fine. Ovra hasn't talk to him since she left though all those years ago. Worried that he would be disappointed in what she has become. Tovka Paerat: Ovra's long dead ancestor. Despite her being born roughly over four hundred or so years ago, her shadow still hangs over Ovra as she ever still tries to live up to the example she set so long ago. Laelius Juventius: Magister of the Imperium, Merchant, Slaver, and a terrible player of Wicked Grace. A prominent member of the particular sphere of the underworld within the northern Free Marches and southern Tevinter. The two met when Ovra was still in Orlais and Laelius was visiting the country on business. They been assoicates ever since. Duchess Amelya de Leclerc: Yvain's wife and now widower. The bard and duchess are on friendly enough terms still to this day. Though their relationship never really progress beyond one of business as Amelya saw Ovra as just another member of the help. After Yvain's death their relationship warmed if only slightly and they still exchange regular correspondences with one another. Thoughts: This space intentionally left blank. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition - 1x Handaxe Silverite: The ancestral weapon of her family given to her by her Father. A treasured companion through rough times. - 1x Dagger Steel Spells & Sorcery N/A Clothing & Armor 1x Fitted Leather Armor 1x Worn Traveler's Boots 1x Traveler's Cloak, Dark Brown 2x flax pants, 1x cotton pants 2x cotton shirts, 1x flax shirt Tools & Things 1x Fine Antivan Lockpicks 1x Lute 1x Herbalist Kit 1x Needle and Thread Potions & Poultices 2x Health Potions 2x Rock Armor Tonic 4x Antivan Fire Grenade Ingredients & Rations 4x Bundles of Deathroot 2x Vial of Venom ?x Hardtack Does she conjure up more with some sort of magic? Nobody knows but she certainly has a lot of it. 1x Waterskin Bags & Pouches 1x Large Sized Traveler's Pack *Dwarf Sized* 1x Potion Belt 1x Herbalist Pouch Odds & Ends 1x Bundle of Letters

Garlenn a fait quelque chose qu'il n'a presque jamais fait, et qui gardait sa bouche fermée pendant qu'Ovra parlait aux chiens de Tevinter. En partie parce qu'il était curieux de ce qu'ils avaient à dire, et pour contraster, en partie parce qu'il préférerait les tuer plutôt que de discuter avec eux. Mais la principale raison était qu'il aimait voir Ovra prendre les commandes. Son sang a été pompé et sa hache dressée et prête! Entre autres choses. En fait, si amusé au spectacle d'Ovra se disputant avec le mage qu'il a presque hésité quand il était temps de bouger. Le personnel s'envola des mages, et Garlenn décida que c'était bien le tour d'Eirny de faire une différence. Au lieu de cela, il choisit de se concentrer sur le désherbage des maillons les plus faibles car ils semblaient être toutes sortes de confusion. Puis encore une fois, il ne pouvait pas les atteindre exactement avec sa hache, c'est pourquoi il avait toujours un couteau de lancer à portée de main. Il a également travaillé des merveilles avec atteindre les gens à cheval. Il n'a pas hésité à tuer des chevaux, mais il n'a pas non plus été particulièrement attaché à cela, ce qui était généralement le meilleur que sa hache pouvait faire. Avec un mouvement subtil de sa forme robuste et une touche dextérieuse de son poignet, son couteau de lancer sorti de sa main. Le hilet a fleuri sur la poitrine légèrement blindée de l'un des hors-bords qui avait mené les Tevinters dans un rôle qui a probablement servi de scout. Dommage qu'il n'ait pas autant d'assiette que les autres, et qu'il ait commencé à tousser et à saigner, à tomber lentement de son cheval qui, à son tour, a commencé à s'estomper. "Ooooo, le cœur a cédé," Garlenn a dit, secouant la tête. "Tsk tsk tsk."

Garlenn Fellblade Male | 38 | Dwarf Basic Info Birthplace Orzammar Merchant District Appearance Garlenn is fairly large for a Dwarf, with broad shoulders that frame his trim body. He might still be short by human standards, his eyes level just above their belly button. However, he is nearly a head taller than most Dwarves, with the rugged and muscled body proportions to match. His skin is leathery and scarred in various places, particularly along his apeish arms (Not to mention the ritualistic tattoos of the Legion). If his body didn't tip you off how nasty of a piece of work he his, Garlenn's constant shit eating grin will be the nail in the coffin. His thick head is covered in a truly massive amount of blonde hair, both atop and on his chin, both similarly braided as well. Background Born as a casteless Dwarf who grew up in poverty, Garlenn's parents had shamed themselves and had lost their positions as merchants, leaving him in squalor. When he was eight, they decided to flee to the surface to garner a better life for themselves, but traveling through the Deep Roads, Garlenn wandered off and became lost due to an inherent curiosity. Unfortunately, this led to his losing his parents and only finding Orzammar again through sheer luck, essentially leaving him stranded and thought dead by his mother and father. With no one to take care of him, the Casteless youngster had to fight for every scrap of food or shelter he could get his hands on from an early age, even going so far as to committing murder by the age of sixteen over a lost cache of food. He'd never forget the wet blood on his hands, and the feeling of disgust that it brought him. Worst come to worst...he was a Dwarf. To kill one of his fellow stone dwellers shook him. He needed an out, but he did not know how to get to the surface world. At first he left the Casteless sections, stealing, exploring the deep roads for abandoned valuable, and trying his hand at dealing under the table with merchants. It was profitable for a time, but after a few years, he felt he was digging himself into a debt hole. Stone curse it, he couldn't maintain such a lifestyle, and on a whim one drunken night, he knew what he was to do. Garlenn joined the Legion of the Dead, and he and his fellows fought for every inch of ground to regain useage of the Deep Roads. Garlenn was among the most feircesome of fighters in the Legion. For despite his underhanded nature, he found he did value his race and homeland. What's more, Garlenn felt he had a real knack with handling weapons and throwing his weight around in a fight, being far quicker than most would expect as well. He fought and bled for his people within the Deep Roads, almost seeing it as a way to atone for his criminal acts. Large Darkspawn incursions and pockets of nameless beasts of the deep died by his axe, and the axes of his fellows. He spent nearly a decade in the Deep, and kept it up until there was nary any Dwarves left in his particular group save he and three others after a particularly large and bloody campaign. The Darkspawn in that attack was truly overwhelming, and as he saw an Ogre tear apart one of his dearest friends, he had an epiphany. When he found out that his luck had him survive, he realized that no one but he would drink to his friend's death. No one would care if he was slain. Yes, that was apart of the responsibility of the Legion, but it was not individual glory he sought. He sought for he and his fellows to be acknowledged at all. Instead they were treated as already deceased. He had felt looked down upon his entire life, and after having served his nation, and seeing what he had seen...now that his pent up energy and anger had been expended in blood lust, he saw it clearly. Well fuck that. The stone take them all! He'd rather the surface world instead, and since he knew how to traverse the Deep Roads now, so he went, becoming a deserter. He made his way to the surface, and decided to make his living as a mercenary and informant, traveling across Ferelden and Orlais, killing bandits, beasts, and all manner of enemies, finding the Oathbreakers and becoming the resident Darkspawn expert. Personality Those not used to the dark aspects of the world might consider Garlenn reprehensible. But to those who've seen the horrors of war and poverty, he's a fine companion and even amusing in his own way. Garlenn is boisterous and quick witted, always ready for a physical or verbal scrap. Killing and stealing is a profitable business for this savvy minded son-of-the-stone, and he does sometimes take pleasure in it, admittedly. However he isn't malevolent, per say. There aren't many cruel acts he commits out of sheer hatred. 'Nothing personal' he'll say. Indeed, the foes he most enjoys slaying are Darkspawn. Curriculum Vitae Years served 4 Bloody Years Profession Warrior Modius Operandi Garlenn will either be on the front lines reaping havoc with his Axe, or behind enemy lines to slit a few throats and break a few necks...before reaping havoc with his Axe. Skills Veteran Blade: Garlenn is good in a fight, using any means necessary to win. Terrain, his bulk, a low blow... Skullduggery: Rumors, contact information, underhanded deals, threats, whatever it takes to win. Cunning: Garlenn knows how to hold the high ground in a conversation, and can see an opportunity to exploit at every turn. Tough Hide: Garlenn should have been killed thrice over, but he's a bit too stubborn to die. He can take a cut and a punch, and fight through a stab if need be. Important Relations: Ragni Gildenhands: An opportunistic Dwarven dignitary that Garlenn holds contact with in the underground of Orlais, helping each other with information on good business opportunities between the surface and the stone without the greater population of Dwarves being burdened with such knowledge of where they get some of their precious goods. Marlienne: An Orlesian courtesan making her living in Denirim to wealthy merchants and nobles. Garlenn will sometimes help give her 'work' with contacts from Ragni, and in turn she provides Garlenn with the secrets they spill in bed. Galehar Swiftblade: Dalish Elf and former slave, and a known raider of merchant caravans. As long as Garlenn gets a profit and Galehar doesn't get too bloodthrirsty and kill innocents, Garlenn will sometimes provide him with new info on trade routes. Thoughts: Feelings on the other members of the group. To be filled in later. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition Large BattleAxe Long Knife 3 throwing daggers. Clothing & Armor Breastplate & Pauldrons Belted Tunic and trousers Gauntlets Combat Boots Tools & Things 6 Lockpicks 12 Caultrops Grappling hook and 35 ft of rope. utility belt . Potions & Poultices 3 health potions 2 fire bombs 2 smoke bombs Ingredients & Rations 5 pounds of jerky Water jug Large 10 OZ. Flask Bags & Pouches Satchel 5 interwoven pouches on belt. Odds and Ends ...

Un mal de tête, tout de suite! Elle a rapidement rappelé en réponse à la demande d'Ovra. Eirny a laissé tomber la pensée du glyphe de paralysie et l'a remplacée par une onde de choc qui donnerait au groupe quelques instants pour gagner un avantage. L'inconvénient : elle devrait se rapprocher de l'action. Elle a à peine épargné toute attention à l'échange qui s'est produit. Presque toutes ses facultés cognitives se concentraient sur l'explosion dont elle avait besoin pour se consacrer à un moment donné. Un flicker de mouvement a pris sa périphérie comme arbalètes levées. Elle pouvait dire que les négociations étaient en cours et peut-être pas tout à fait à l'appréciation de quiconque. Le son de la voix d'Ovra continua suivi de celui d'une autre femme. Elle a entendu quelqu'un rire, puis un flash d'Ovra. C'était son moment de se rapprocher. Alors qu'Ovra se déplaçait de jeter sa hache sur le lanceur, Eirny avança aussi vite qu'elle le pouvait pour tenter d'atteindre leurs ennemis. Quand Ovra est tombé au sol et a donné le signal, Garlenn lui a acheté quelques autres moments de distraction quand il a obtenu un coup solide sur un autre pilote. Seule une fraction de seconde a gagné, elle a cessé de courir, l'élan la portant dans une diapositive vers l'avant alors qu'elle lâchait sa vague étonnante qui était destinée à désorienter l'esprit de ses ennemis. Armes tendues de bâton à la main, elle vit la vague se laver au-dessus des cinq plus proches : quatre en toile de chasse et la femme mage. Le dernier chasseur dans le dos semblait intact. Il a surpris quelques-uns des chevaux eux-mêmes, et celui qui n'avait pas de cavalier s'est tourné maintenant pour fuir. Elle espérait qu'il suffisait d'acheter le reste du temps des Breakers pour se déplacer alors qu'elle élevait son personnel pour attaquer le coureur le plus lointain; simultanément, la figure semblait viser Eirny.

Eirny Female | 29 | Elven Basic Info Birthplace Val Royeaux Alienage Appearance Eirny stands at an unimpressive 5'2" and has a wiry physique. Her most notable features--besides the large, pointed ears--are her ivory hair and her amethyst eyes. She keeps a few long wisps of hair dangling at the front of her face, more often than not found braided, knotted, or beaded away from her eyes while the rest of her hair is kept short as a bob. Her complexion is light as it is with most of her kind and pasted with freckles here or there. Background Born to a pair of poor city elves in Val Royeaux's extensive alienage, Eirny spent most of her dawn years learning with her peers at the vhenadahl or in some small home or other when it was available. There were so many packed in that the smaller children often sat in the laps of the elder ones to conserve space. In her first ten years of life, she never questioned the way things were done even when some of the children went missing; perhaps they died of illness which was not uncommon within such cramped quarters or perhaps they went somewhere more interesting. Eirny would invent her own stories sometimes for where they went. Perhaps they had gone to join their wilder, freer brothers and sisters in the forests, or maybe they strayed too far and Fen'Harel snatched them up. Sometimes tiny lights came to her when she was alone and whispered stories about where her friends had gone; however, the stories they told were always vague and sometimes nonsensical. Occasionally, one of the stories would upset her and the spirits would glow soothingly to calm her worries. Whatever the case, her parents told her not to think about it and assured her she would never leave them. It wasn't until her early teens when her aptitude for magic became more apparent--particularly of the spirit sort--that Eirny was taken from her home to the White Spire for training and harrowing. The Chantry and its Templars became a constant presence in her life during her stay, and she grew to hate and love them in her own ways. She found one or two of the friends that went missing from the alienage here, and it made the transition a bit easier. One particular new friend she made was her mentor, Rhys, who was very skilled at interacting with wisps and spirits such as she had. He along with a few important others safely guided her through training and interacting with her innate spirit magics and eventually through her successful Harrowing. Like many mages, she does not talk of the demon(s) or other things she saw while in the Fade. A few weeks later, it was one of her alienage friend's Harrowing. His trial seemed to go on for days, and the wisps that came to her hinted at him weakening. It was a week before she saw him again, but by then he was Tranquil. It hurt her heart in ways she hadn't expected. She had known Tranquil before him and they all seemed content with their lot in life; her friend, Aesin, did now, too, but he wasn't the same. The light from his eyes was gone, sometimes it seemed like he did not even notice her, and her wisps refused to go near him. The Spire was the largest Circle in Orlais, possibly in all of Thedas, yet Eirny never felt more suffocated in her life. Even her life in the alienage paled in comparison. She began to throw herself into her studies of healing magics in the hopes of finding some lost way to help Aesin, something the others may have overlooked or hidden. She was almost like a woman possessed as she would study tomes, writings, and rituals for days on end. In time, she became a very skilled spirit healer but was not one step closer to discovering anything to help her friend. As with all spirit healers, the more skilled she became the more demons tried to entice her. Many promised they could cure her friend if she only brought them over. Eventually, repeated disappointments with avenues of study and relentless demonic propositions drove her to avoid her friend and the thought of him altogether. Eirny was a highly respected and trusted member of the White Spire's Circle by this time. While far from an expert, she was well-versed in healing magics and spirits by this point. Having seen the dangers of demons firsthand, she was an ardent supporter of the Chantry, the Templars, and the Circle. While she struggled with the fate of her friend, in the end she knew that it was for the best if he could not control himself. Her heart still ached for the loss of his friendship, but she had to think that there was a reason behind it all. One night, as she lie resting in her bed, a Templar came to her room and ordered her up to follow him. As she wiped the sleep from her eyes, she hadn't the faintest idea what it all could be about but she had not reason to distrust. As ordered, she packed her belongings quickly and followed dutifully. When they were in the undercroft of the building, that was when she began to feel something wasn't right. She hesitated on the last steps before the murky waters below and the Templar turned back. When she questioned where they were going and what was happening, she was hit with a blinding force that echoed through her bones and knocked her unconscious. When she came to, she felt like she was on a moving vehicle. Her hands, mouth, and eyes bound, only the wisps around her attempted to explain the situation. She had grown to understand them better over the years and knew for sure now that this Templar did not have noble intentions; they told her he carried her blood and intended to sell her. It was a long trip before this was confirmed with her arrival in Hasmal. Here, she was to be sold, phylactery and all, but the deal went bad for the Templar and the slaver, with neither one of them ending up with the intended reward. This is all the story she ever told the Oathbreakers when she joined up a year ago. It was all the story she planned to ever tell unless otherwise coerced. Nevertheless, she assured them that her phylactery was destroyed in the struggle. An apostate now, she had no intention of returning to the White Spire or any Circle. Not after that night. Personality Eirny often comes off as somewhat distracted, but that can usually be explained by the wisps that pop in and out around her. Many times they are overlooked by passersby and so she appears to be listening to thin air, but she keeps her wits about her. She's at home with elves and humans the most, of course, as she grew up with them. Reserved on a few topics--such as her past--she is generally a fairly open person. She is direct in her speech unless finesse is called for and doesn't like to dance around a subject. Intelligent, quick to care for the injured, and slow to trust. Curriculum Vitae Years served 1 year Profession Mage | Spirit Healer Modus Operandi Filling the supporting role, you'll find her wherever the most help is needed, whether up front or in the rear. Skills Herbalism: allows Eirny to create potions, poultices, and salves using various ingredients. Herbal Lore: Eirny is able to identify most any type of plant, herb, or otherwise used in the creation of healing items. First Aid: Even without the use of her magics and poultices, Eirny is a talented nurse and caretaker. Streetwise: Being raised in the largest alienage—and in the largest city—in Orlais has its own perks; Eirny is comfortable moving in and interacting in large crowds. Speak with Spirits Since early age, Eirny has had wisps around her. With years of experience and guidance, she can give them simple commands and even puzzle out some of their simple thoughts. Important Relations: Rhys: Mentor, idol, friend. Helped Eirny come into her own understanding of her powers during her time at the White Spire. Aesin: Close friend from her childhood in the alienage. Before made Tranquil, she considered him her best friend, being one of few who truly understood where and what she had been through. She still mourns his loss. Caelis (father) & Aeryn (mother) of the Val Royeaux alienage: Eirny’s parents whom she assumes still live at the alienage. She hasn’t seen them since she was taken to the White Spire years ago. Parted on good terms with no siblings—at that time, anyways. Reginald: The Templar whom attempted to sell Eirny to slavers from the White Spire. His whereabouts and well-being are unkwnown to her following the incident. She assumes he would not tell anyone of his misdeed or how a mage and her phylactery strangely went missing on his watch... Thoughts: Aseema Viranni: A long time veteran of the Oathbreakers, Eirny thought she'd feel more comfortable near the elf who shares her knack for magic, but she just isn't the same as the elves back home. She's not quite how she pictured a Dalish elf, either, besides the vallaslin she wears and some of the words she speaks. While Aseema's experience is valued, more often than not Eirny feels very awkward and alien around her. Erinya/Ishanni: Eirny has a hard enough time forming her own opinion of Erinya without her wisps whispering incessantly in her ears. Even when she has moments of lucidity, the woman was an oddity to Eirny. The wisps are generally in such a frenzy when they talk about her that Eirny has trouble deciphering each thought. What she does know, however, is that she is ill in mind and body; Eirny is determined to help her if she can. Garlenn Fellblade: Her first impressions of the dwarf after joining were fairly favorable. Eirny found amusement in his glibness and loquaciousness. Her good opinion of him is somewhat injured by his ferociousness in combat. She fights because she has to now, not ever because she enjoyed it. Still, when out of combat, she almost feels a fondness of sorts towards the battered dwarf. Even without the physical evidence to show it, her spirits tell her he has many scars. Krios Ar Tae O Darkhold: Probably the most interesting human Eirny has ever met. Serious a good bit of the time, Eirny enjoys the moments when he laughs or cracks a smile at some witty comment one person or other has made. She finds him fascinating in that he is a warrior with some magical abilities but he feels very different from the Templars with whom she spent so much time in the Spire. His magic feels very familiar and even her wisps enjoy being around him. Ovra Paerat: Ovra makes Eirny wish she knew more dwarves early on in life. Out of all the ones she has met since leaving the Circle a year ago, Ovra was by far the most interesting of the group. Also quick with a quip, she never lacks for life or laughs to bring to the party. Sometimes her spirit friends whisper about the shadows that hang over her, but Eirny accepts that we are all flawed in our own ways. And anyways, Ovra has only ever been good to her since joining. Shok: One of the few recruits newer than herself, Eirny initially had a strong distaste for the Qunari. She hadn't met many, but he seemed more dour than most and add to that his use of blood magic. Her views were newly colored the first time she saw him work as a healer. She could see the passion he held for his craft as he worked, severely softening her opinion and even endearing her to him a bit. She appreciates his directness, though sometimes thinks he could do with some tact. Her spirits hum a sad song for him sometimes. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition Enchanter’s Staff (A gift from Rhys; kept well-wrapped when not in use) Iron dagger Spells Creation: Heal, Rejuvenate, Glyph of Paralysis, & Spell Wisp Spirit: Spell Shield & Mind Blast Spirit Healer: Group Heal Clothing & Armor Cloth robes with hood (as pictured above) Cloth gloves Leather boots Tools & Things Empty bottles for potion/poultice/etc. making Herbalism Kit Smelling salts Potions & Poultices Lesser injury kit x2 Injury kit x1 Healing Potion x2 Health Poultice x2 Lyrium Potion x2 Ingredients & Rations 3 days worth of dry rations Waterskin Roll of fresh herbs Bags & Pouches Reagent bag (holds herbs) Potion and empty bottle holder (holds 3 at a time) Cloth backpack (spare clothes, unequipped items, empty bottles, small camp roll and her various other belongings already listed) Odds and Ends A worn book Eirny is often seen reading. She keeps it safely wrapped and stashed in her backpack when not in use. A vial of spirit essence received during her time at the Circle.

Erinya savait que l'élément de surprise jouait un rôle énorme lorsqu'il s'agissait de clôturer les combats. Beaucoup moins de sang a été versé de ceux qui ont attaqué le premier que de ceux qui ont dû s'adapter à une offensive soudaine. Et elle était prête à envoyer la mage à ses dieux avant même qu'Ovra n'ouvre la bouche, donc quand elle l'a habilement désarmée de sa hache, elle n'a même pas cligné deux fois. Elle avait toute son équipe devant elle, tous lui faisant assez confiance pour tourner le dos à ses flèches. Fous, elle les appelait souvent dans sa tête encore d'un autre côté, elle n'avait jamais partagé le fait que chaque fois que son adrénaline commençait à couler, elle avait l'envie de commencer à tirer aveuglément des flèches, devant retenir son sang et ses pensées. Elle devait parfois prendre un moment plus longtemps parce qu'elle n'était pas sûre qu'elle tirerait sur l'ennemi au lieu d'un camarade. Elle était comme ça depuis... Depuis quand? Il s'est passé quelque chose il y a quelque temps, j'ai perdu quelque chose, n'est-ce pas?... Je ne me souviens pas de quoi. Elle a pensé et soudain elle n'était plus au milieu des Plaines Silentes. Elle était de retour aux Anderfels, en parlant à son professeur décédé depuis longtemps, de l'art du tir. "Ishanni, qu'est-ce qui sépare un grand tireur d'un légendaire?" Il demanda alors qu'il fixait son emprise sur l'arc. Elle n'avait pas de réponse pour lui et honnêtement, il n'en attendait pas une. "C'est combien de pas en avant il - ou elle dans notre cas - peut prévoir. La plupart utilisent un arc pour ne pas risquer la mêlée, que ce soit en raison d'un manque d'habileté ou de confiance, mais l'arc n'est pas aussi simple que cela si vous voulez parier votre vie dessus, jour après jour. Quand vous tirez sur votre flèche, née de sorcières, vous devez déjà avoir compris où votre prochain atterrira et dans quelles circonstances. C'est comme ça que tu deviens un marqueur légendaire. Tout le monde peut devenir un grand archer mais si peu peuvent gagner une bataille avant même qu'il commence. Tu penses pouvoir faire ça, petit?" Elle s'est arrêtée un long moment avant de lui fermer les yeux. "Je vais faire mieux que ça." Elle a simplement dit avant de déchaîner sa flèche et sa conscience la ramenant sur le champ de bataille. Ovra plongeait pour se couvrir, voulant éviter les boulons que les coureurs lui envoyaient sans aucun doute. Eirny la faisait aussi bouger, sa magie désorientant la plupart d'entre eux pour les plus brefs moments mais le jeune Elf n'avait pas compté pour le dernier cavalier qui aurait une vue claire sur elle. "Un pour la ruine..."Elle avait la mage dans ses yeux, la flèche tirée et prête à percer sa peau douce sans aucun remords. Elle avait pris le but, la gorge de la femme ferait l'astuce, elle ne voulait pas risquer une sorte d'envoûtement de dernière respiration. Ovra lui ayant déjà donné une courte fenêtre pour agir, Erinya a eu la chance de mettre fin à cette rencontre en leur faveur car ce Mage était à la fois le leader de ce groupe et son membre le plus dangereux. Il n'y avait pas de vent à expliquer, aucun souffle d'air n'avait pris la poussière que le bâton tombé soulevait, d'une direction ou d'une autre. Sa flèche irait à son but dans une fraction d'une seconde, sans obstacle. Le mage avait commis une erreur mortelle, étant si proche des ennemis potentiels sans aucune préparation. Son orgueil lui a causé la mort. « Souvenez-vous toujours... » Ses doigts tenaient fermement et régulièrement la flèche, les arcs exigeaient une finesse différente des arbalètes. Elle l'avait fait un million de fois auparavant et elle le ferait probablement un million de plus. "Tous les hommes sont creux.« Il a fallu moins de temps pour que la flèche vole qu'un battement de cœur. Elle l'a vue percer le côté droit de son cou pâle et la jeter de l'équilibre vers la gauche, donnant à Eirny une demi-seconde de plus pour se protéger contre le dernier cavalier et son arbalète comme son corps tombant ferait office de couverture. Ce serait tout ce dont l'elfe avait besoin, j'espère. Son regard était toujours fixé sur les yeux de la mage, cependant, se remplissant de choc, son esprit n'avait toujours pas enregistré ce qui s'était passé encore son cou était déjà peint pourri avant qu'elle ne touche même le sol stérile. Elle serait morte en quelques secondes. "Dareth shiral." Elle murmura et tira une autre flèche de son carquois. La bataille était finie, en leur faveur. Tout ce qui restait, c'était de préciser que le jour était le leur, pour le reste des coureurs. *"Voyage sûr."

Erinya - Ishanni ♀ | 34 |Elf-Blooded Human Basic Info Birthplace Wandering Hills, Anderfels Appearance Erinya is of slighty more than average height, with a very slender physique. Her long black hair vastly contrast with her -nowadays- pale skin. She looks completely human despite her partly Elven origin although the angular features of her face can remind someone of an Elf. Her striking blue eyes, almost gray, are her best feature as many have said. All in all, Erinya used to be a beauty you don't meet everyday, especially in the lands she was born in. However, life hasn't treated her well and that shows. Her face looks pale and gaunt, full of freckles and proof of the hard times she's been facing in both her days and nights. Her vibrant black hair now look sickly and weak and her eyes have lost their spark. Her once slender body now looks fragile, ready to fall to the winter. But she's strong, she's a survivor, always has been. Background Erinya was conceived somewhere in the southern-most parts of the Brecilian Forest, according to Mother's parting letter. Her father, some random Dalish Elf who fell in love with the witch or as Mother put it "...fell in love because I was something he had never seen before". Her mother, one of the infamous Chasind and quite possibly a witch, she never admitted to it. For some unknown reason of hers, Mother travelled all the way to the arid and barren Anderfels, one of the literally worst places one can live and raise a child in, settled among the Orth tribe of the Wandering Hills and soon after, she gave birth to Erinya right in the middle of summer. Growing up is hard and growing up in the Anderfels is much, much harder. From the constant threat of Darkspawn, the scarcity of food, scarcity of law, scarcity of life in general to the often deadly weather itself. Erinya was around 8 when her mother made her watch a genlock slaughter an innocent old man before she sent an arrow right between its eyes as it had just noticed them. "Earn it." she said, "Earn your right to stand and defend it until Death himself comes to take you." She never forgot her words, not really. Eight year old Erinya wasn't shocked nor scared, not even scarred. She understood at that moment, how fair the world is through its unfairness. Some are born to suffer, others to live in pleasure. Some are as important as a bucket with a hole and others make their names echo for all eternity. The Orth took them both in as their own, they faced no prejudice, ever, thus mother and daughter both considered themselves a part of the tribe. Erinya learned how to use the bow and the dagger, how to hide in plain sight and how to survive without water from them, her body getting much more exercise than she needed since a very young age. They taught her everything they taught their own younglings and even more as was somewhat of a prodigy, her ability with a bow matching that of the tribes's best marksmen. By her 11th birthday, Erinya had already killed a genlock, didn't even blink when she saw the arrow slide right through the opening of it's rusty helmet, she was already preparing another arrow for its also unlucky ally. Soon, she and her mother left the Anderfels and stayed for almost a year in the Korcari Wilds where her mother introduced her to her people, the Chasind, who taught her the ways of the forest and of the tribe. Erinya always had a mind that easily took in new things and this time wasn't different. They travelled back home, as she felt about the Anders, and once again joined the tribe she had grown with. That also didn't last as Mother disappeared one day, leaving behind only a letter written in Chasind where she wished her luck and gave some information about why she left that Erinya hasn't told anyone. As the years passed and Erinya was now an adult and a very important part of the tribe, it didn't take long for her to receive various marriage proposals from the tribe's up and coming singles. But ambition burned inside of her and staying in the Wandering Hills for her whole life was never an option. Quietly, without any fuss, she packed and left on one especially hot and humid night. She made her way to the capital, Hossberg, where she met Anteus, a mercenary of the Green Men, a band comprising of the best marksmen in Thedas meant to protect caravans travelling towards the distant port of Leysh through these always dangerous lands. After convincing him that she had the potential to be in the company, she joined them and led the life of a mercenary, through its many ups and downs for three years, until one fateful day a couple of months after her 22nd birthday when they came across a group of Grey Wardens fending off a particularly large band of Darkspawn. Their combined forces saved the day and the caravan with minimal loss of life yet the highlight was Erinya, saving the Senior Warden Taliesin's life by shooting down a bolt headed towards him mid air. Now, she knew of the Order of the Grey and always held them in high regard but never did she seriously think about joining them. "It's not a profession, it's a Calling." the Warden told her before inviting her back to Weisshaupt with him, as a Warden-Recruit. She was pretty happy with her life but she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't meant to be just a mercenary either. So she said yes and soon enough, the magnificent headquarters of the Order stood in front of her. There were five other recruits alongside her, all hand picked by Taliesin. One of them was Taliesin's son, Feodor, the man she would end up marrying and conceiving a child with, in the night they spent together before their Joining. They were the only ones to survive the Joining and Erinya was now one of the Grey, something which gave her purpose and filled her with the ambition to use her skills for helping the people of the Anderfels. The next four years of her life were quite possibly her best, she was truly happy. They planned their future with Feodor and for the following months the two Wardens would travel on their own throughout the Anderfels, helping everyone they could while falling deeper and deeper in love with each other, until the effects of pregnancy brought her back to Weisshaupt where she gave birth to a healthy girl, Elleria. They eventually got married and Taliesin took her as his daughter, naming her Ishanni, the name of his long dead wife. She felt that she belonged, this was her little family and she would do everything in her hand to make the world a safer place for her daughter and her husband as well as the people. Soon enough, Erinya or Ishanni, was well enough to start travelling again, with Elleria being taken care of by her grandfather, Taliesin, since in her own head, while she did miss moments she would never get back, she was certain that the world her daughter would live in, would be safer. This went on for a few months until the couple decided to settle down in the Wandering Hills where rareky Grey Wardens ever set foot due to its remote location and lack of importance, to be frank. The three lived there together, growing and maturing. No dream lasts forever though. It was an ordinary call for help like many others but this time, a father of four was possessed and threatening to burn his children alive along with his house. And Erinya just wouldn't allow that to happen. She used her deathroot extract to enter a deep trance combined with an Elven ritual Feodor knew, certain he would drive the demon back, proud of her skills and prowess regardless of the fact that it was the first time she was entering the Fade. She did manage to drive the demon back and the farmer was safe as well as his kids. So was Feodor. But she wasn't. Countless voices starting vying for her attention soon after, her dreams started being plagued by nightmares and soon she even started seeing visions of horrible things. Feodor, worried about her, immediatelly wrote to his father who begun the long trek to the Wandering Hills alongside two Warden mages, certain that Erinya had been possessed. They weren't fast enough. They found her soaked in blood, clutching little Elleria's corpse for dear life, Feodor also dead on their bed, his throat slit, whispering incoherent things, crazed. She doesn't really know what happened before or what happeed next, she's certain that she died with them, with her people. She has no clue why she still wakes up despite being dead. On her way to the Circle located in Hossberg in order for her to be kept under the watchful eye of the mages, she escaped and ran, ran as far as her feet could take her and lost track of time. She could have been roaming for months, maybe years, with no recollection of what she did or how she survived. But she did survive and found herself joining a band of mercenaries, the Oathbreakers, her best bet to avoid anyone asking too many questions or coming across familiar faces. She was an outlaw after all and a particularly dangerous one, at that. And there has she been until today, fighting and living, day after day, a usually empty husk of a person driven by instinct and some sort of twisted willpower, barely having any memories of anything at all. Personality Erinya usually isn't someone you can talk to. Aloof and talking to herself or disappearing for hours at a time, speaking in riddles and acting without the least bit of logic. She rarely ever is herself and those moments are the worst because that's when she remembers. That's when she realizes. That's when it all comes rushing back and she denies herself the pleasure of slitting her own throat or just falling on the first blade she finds drawn against her. "You gotta earn it." she keeps repeating to herself, gotta earn death. Only time you can somewhat get a glimpse of just who she was is during battles when her training takes over and her face looks more like the Grey Warden of the Anders who had saved countless lives and less like a complete, Fade-Touched, lunatic. Curriculum Vitae Years served •5 years, 11 months and 8 days. Profession Rogue | Ranger Modius Operandi Erinya rarely ever dirties her hands with blood in gruesome melee. Her bow and arrows never failed her and she intends to keep it that way. Being a master ranger makes her always capable of finding a suitable location to oversee the battle and send her arrows flying in order to support her allies first and rain fury on her enemies second. Skills •Ranger's Boon: Summon Wolf / Bear / Spider.* •Green Men Represent: One of the best marksmen in Thedas. •Chasind Survivalist: When in the woods, Erinya is always the hunter, never the hunted. Stealthy, agile and with a knack for ambushes as well as capable of finding everything she needs to survive. •Fade-Touched: Since she entered the Fade almost eight years ago in order to try and fight a demon who had possessed a single father of four, she hasn't been all there. Visions, voices, vivid dreams, Erinya has been plagued by them. •Multilingual: Erinya, other than being fluent in Common, can also speak Dalish, Ander as well as Chasind. *ᴰᵉᵖᵉᶰᵈᶦᶰᵍ ᵒᶰ ᶫᵒᶜᵃᵗᶦᵒᶰ⋅ Important Relations: •Taliesin Far-Eye: Senior Grey Warden, last known location was the Order's HQ, Weisshaupt Fortress. Taliesin was Fedor's father and the one who conscripted her into the Grey Wardens. •Mother: Of Chasind origin and almost certainly a witch, Erinya's mother is probably still alive, back in the Korcari Wilds, home of her people. They haven't been in contact since she left Erinya, right after her 13th birthday. Thoughts: •Shok: Erinya never really had enough of an interest in the Qunari, in order to want to find out more about them yet Shok, for the short time he's been with the company, has always been eager to share his knowledge. She enjoys his straightforward manner and is proud to shed blood along side him. •Garlenn Fellblade: Erinya always felt that the Dwarf has been a kindred spirit, a fellow veteran of the ever-present Darkspawn threat and someone who always followed his own path in life, no matter how difficult that appeared to be. She trusts him with the lives of anyone in the Oathbreakers and gladly follows him into battle. •Krios: If you wanna see how much of a good hand you've been dealt in life, join a mercenary company." Erinya always said. She knows that Krios carries a deep sorrow and a heavy burden, she can see it in his eye and the Avvar warrior can probably see the same in her. She always enjoys sharing some ale with him while talking shit about the Chantry. •Aseema Viranni: The Elf has been among the Oathbreakers pretty much since they were formed yet this kind of profession has yet to corrupt her childlike curiosity, the way she lights up whenever something that interests her, is brought up. Erinya likes her, she's one of the more light-hearted of the group and enjoys delving into Elven history with her. •Ovra Paerat: Having been in the Oathbreakers the most, Erinya has become familiar with the Dwarf, she has been there since day one and pretty much runs the company. She hasn't really bonded with her though, the Bard has her secrets and Erinya has hers. Yet she's part of their group, spilling blood and sweat together and Erinya will fight for her like any other. •Eirny: The Elf has been one of the newer members of the company thus Erinya isn't as familiar with her as with the rest. However, she's keeping an eye on her, as she doesn't think the City Elf has really tasted the true bitterness of the road, bloodshed and all. According to her story, she's led a pretty sheltered life for a mercenary, Erinya feels. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition •Ma Vhenan: What can be said for Erinya's bow? Created by one of the greatest woodsmiths among the Dalish, it is made to fit her hands perfectly, a priceless wedding gift from her husband and his family which has served her greatly through the years. Comes with a 21-arrow quiver and the runes inscribed on it carry the motto of the Grey Wardens as well as the Elven name given to Erinya during her wedding. •1x Generic Steel Dagger •1x Quiver •21x Steel Tipped Fine Elven Arrows. Clothing & Armor •Warden Scout's Tunic: Despite having deserted the Grey Wardens for her reasons, Erinya still practically lives in her Warden days armor although it's not as clean these days and there's thick leather sewn all over it in order not to give away this part of her past. Too much attention would be fatal as she's still a wanted woman. •1x Thick Leather Thigh-High Boots •1x Flax Shirt, 1x Flax Pants •1x Traveler's Cloak, Dark Green Tools & Things •1x Bow, String & Arrows Repair and Maintenance Kit* •1x Needle & Thread •1x Wolf Whistle •1x Bear Lure •1x Spider Lure •1x Herbalism Kit *Oils and fine tools. Potions & Poultices •2x Health Potions •3x Injury Kits Ingredients & Rations •14x Deep Mushrooms •1x Waterskin •4x Crow Poison Vials •1x Quiet Death Vial •2x Flasks of Deathroot Extract Bags & Pouches •1x Medium Sized Traveller's Backpack. •2x Vial Pouch Odds and Ends •1x Steel Weathered Grey Warden insignia •1x Diary •1x Dirty Ol' Child's Doll •2x Wedding Rings •1x Chasind Bone Medallion

La situation s'intensifiait rapidement pour le moins, alors de nouveau des négociations pacifiques n'ont jamais été ce petit groupe de forts inadaptés. Tandis que ses camarades préparaient le champ de bataille, brandissaient leurs lames, enroulait leurs flèches, et soulevaient même des murs de pierre en défense, l'attention de Shok était entièrement attirée par son nouveau patient. Le Tal-Vashoth avait depuis arraché la chemise du jeune homme et l'avait tourné sur son côté pour mieux examiner la blessure. "Sévère perte de sang, possible fracture des côtes, aucun signe d'infection actuelle..." Shok s'est claqué à lui-même alors qu'il commençait à nettoyer le site avec une vue des élixirs qu'il avait tirés de son sacoche. Shok sentait que la bataille imminente ne faisait que s'approcher et se rapprocher, car il sentait la tension s'édifier dans l'air, les paroles d'Ovra et de la magister étaient toutes deux remplies de venin, car elles avaient leur échange. Les mains de Shok se mouvèrent dans un flou alors qu'elles dansaient entre le corps du jeune homme et son petit assortiment de remèdes. "Le boulon n'a perforé aucun organe vital. L'extraction devrait être possible -" Le monologue de Shok a été coupé court avec l'élégante exclamation de son chef intrépide qui a vraiment déclenché le fût de poudre qui avait brassé entre les deux groupes. Un champ de bataille est moins que l'endroit idéal pour essayer de soigner les blessés, mais dans sa ligne de travail actuelle Shok avait trouvé que dans de nombreux cas il n'y avait pas d'autre temps pour fournir de l'aide vu que le patient peut ne pas arriver à la fin du combat. La chaleur de la bataille a toujours été intense, des vies ont été essuyées de cette plaine en ce qui concerne les moments, et celui-ci n'était pas différent. Alors que Shok continua à préparer son patient, il écouta la magister gurgle autrefois haute et puissante sur son propre sang et tomba de sa montagne, les derniers souffles d'un mercenaire gravement trop payé alors qu'il faisait la tentative futile de tirer une dague de son propre cœur, et la panique qui inondait les chevaux de la bande de mercenaires comme une vague d'énergie mystique a été lavée sur eux. Malgré tout ce chaos, Shok n'a jamais échoué dans son travail, bien jusqu'à ce que son patient se réveille. Shok a dû admettre que la question l'a pris un peu au dépourvu, il avait été appelé tout, d'un simple monstre à une abomination de l'autre monde, mais il n'avait jamais été appelé le Créateur. Heureusement, il a pu se retrouver et se concentrer sur la situation. "Hallucinations, peut-être à la combinaison de perte de sang et de blessure à la tête." Il a dit qu'il avait mis sa main sur le vrai boulon coincé dans le côté de l'homme. Shok s'arrêta un moment et il regarda vers le jeune homme qui l'atteignait faiblement. "Je suis désolé, mais non je ne suis pas votre Créateur. Ne bougez pas." Avec ce Shok a tiré le boulon du côté du jeune homme et rapidement remplacé par des couches de bandage serré. "Les respirations profondes devraient aider avec la douleur..." Shok a ajouté, sachant qu'une vague de douleur venait de se laver sur le jeune homme. Avant qu'il ne puisse fournir plus d'aide Shok a remarqué une course floue passer son oreille. Il lui a fallu quelques instants pour se rendre compte que c'était un boulon arbalète qui venait de manquer étroitement sa tête. "Bothestome..." Shok a dit, l'ennui presque visible dans ses mots, alors qu'il tournait la tête pour trouver le mercenaire qui venait de tenter de faire de sa tête un pincoussion. Shok éternuait légèrement alors qu'il étendait sa main et le gel commençait à résonner de ses doigts, quelques instants plus tard un pic de glace fut lancé de la paume du mage et envoyé naviguer à travers le champ de bataille. Le mercenaire était dans les brumes du rechargement de son arbalète quand le dard de glace s'est encastré dans sa poitrine, perçant directement dans son poumon droit. Il s'est assommé et s'est affligé de douleur alors qu'il tombait de sa montagne, ce ne serait pas une mort lente pour lui. Shok a regardé avec une expression deux fois plus froide que le gel sur ses mains que l'homme s'est cogné sur le sol avant de regarder son patient. "Où étais-je..."

"Maraas kata, ataas shokra." Shok Male | 34 |Tal-Vashoth Basic Info Birthplace Qunandar, Par Vollen Appearance The intimidating aura that Qunari naturally give off do to their mountainous statures... is not present in Shok, in fact this Tal-Vashoth is rather meek in comparison to his Qun following brethren. He maintains the towering height that is trademark for his race, standing at a staggering seven feet tall, but he possess the thin build of someone who appears to have been malnourished for many years. His skin is a dull charcoal color and is racked with a nearly innumerable amount of scars, most noticeably the series of what seems to have once been stitch's on his lips, likewise Shok is missing a portion of his left ear. His cold, steel colored eyes share the same hue as his hair which sits in a mane of wild locks that hangs down to his mid back. Shok's horns have been cleanly sawn off leaving only stubs in their place. His fingernails are long and untrimmed, becoming borderline claw like. Shok's expression is always rather hard and some what sad, his eyes though piercing hold a slight sorrow to them. Shok's clothes are rather dull and unassuming. The major aspect of his attire is the large hooded coat that he dawns, it is made of black leather and seems to be battered from years of wear and tear. Under the coat he dawns a simple short sleeved grey cloth shirt and black pants along with a set of black boots. Background The lives of all young Qunari are the same, they are brought into a world of absolute order and have been bred for generation upon generation for a sole purpose, it was no different for the Qunari that would one day become Shok. Unlike many of his brutish kinsmen that have become rather infamous to the rest of Thedas this young Qunari never had the same drive to become a warrior, instead he was born with an inquisitive mind that thirsted for the answers that littered the world around him. While other children marveled at the explosions gaatlok made or sat in awe from the stories of the aban-ataashi that prowled the seas the young Qunari pondered about what substances made up gaatlok and how did the mighty sea beast's body produce such powerful bolts of lightning, he found himself not being able to rest until he found the answers to these questions. The tamassrans took note of these interests and directed the boy down the path of an ashkaari, the scientists and philosophers of the Qun, just as they always planned for the boy. The young Qunari, now known as Ashkaari, dove whole heartily into his schooling, excelling in a multitude of fields that were presented before him. From the philosophies and teachings of the Qun to the recipes of gaatlok and vitaar Ashkaari's sharp mind soaked it all in, even adding further insight that helped birth a number of advancements. What Ashkaari was most drawn to was study of medicine, he poured hours into learning about what made the body tic and just how he could help it heal be it from sickness or more physical injuries. Ashkaari was without a doubt a prodigy with all the makings of going far in his career, given the right circumstances Ashkaari could of found himself becoming the Ariqun, one of three leaders of the Qunari triumvirate. Unfortunately it seemed that fate had different plans in store for him. It was a day like any other for the boy, he had spent hours that day studying away in class with his peers. As he scanned over yet another set of books he began to feel it, a slight burning in his chest. It had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and without cause, but the heat continued to build and build, drenching the young Qunari into a sweat, until finally it happened. The last thing Ashkaari remembered before blacking out was an intense bright flash... and the smell of burning flesh. When he awoke he was being dragged away from his still ablaze classroom. That was the day that his magic reared itself to the world, the day that Ashkaari ceased to be, and the day Saarebas was born. Everything was stripped from Saarebas; his home, his peers, his promising career, even his very name, everything that made him who he was. He had his horns sawn off to brand him as a danger to his people, his lips sewn shut to prevent him from spreading his corruption to others, and bound to an arvaarad who would control his actions day and night. Just as he thought his life had reached its complete bottom Saarebas' karataam, a group of saarebas bound to one arvaarad, was assigned to go to the war scarred island of Seheron in order to aid with the struggle against both the remaining Tevinter forces as well as the growing Tal-Vashoth rebels. Despite all of this Saarebas was able to swallow back his grief and force himself to believe that this was the only way he could keep the world safe from himself. The time on Seheron began to meld together for Saarebas, each day the same as the last, days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. He would be awoken by his arvaarad, marched on patrol along with his other bound mages, and sicced upon any forces that his arvaarad deemed a threat to the Qun. At first it was hard, the killing and fighting haunted Saarebas' nightmares, but eventually the metallic smell of freshly spilt blood and the cacophony of screams spurred by foes being set ablaze were all second nature to him. It got to a point that Saarebas had almost forgot who he use to be... almost. A raid on a Tal-Vashoth camp, an event that had become so common to Saarebas one would never really think twice about it, but it was in the midst of this chaos that it happened. A stray spear thrown by a dying rebel pierced the heart of Saarebas' arvaarad. It was as if the world froze as the group of mages watched the life fade from the man who held their leash, the man that had bound them but gave them purpose for so many years. Despite the eternity that that moment felt like it eventually came to an end, and the morbid realization that followed quickly arose. Each of the saarebas knew what they now had to do, they had been left without an arvaarad, they were now corrupted in the eyes of the Qun and there was only one way to ensure they did not spread that corruption. The first of them to take their life was one of their younger members, a poor girl that was barely over the age of ten. One by one they prayed their last prayer before slitting their own throats, until their was only one left. This sole saarebas remained amongst the corpses of the closet thing he had had to a family, this same saarebas who was once a young boy who wanted nothing more than to explore and study the world around him, he found himself questioning again. Why did they have to die? Why did he have to die? Why did the Qun demand this sacrifice?... Was the Qun wrong? The questions whispered in Saarebas' mind as he held the dagger to his throat. They repeated over and over, growing louder and louder, until Saarebas found himself speaking them aloud. The Qun... is wrong. He said as he lowered the dagger. It took everything in his being not to join his brothers and sisters on the ground, but he knew that this was a waste, that each of these people who had so willingly gave their life in the name of the Qun were just that, people. Each of whom deserved the life that was stolen from them from people who were too closed minded to accept them for despite their nature. It was in that moment that Saarebas refused to let the fear of others bind him any longer, that he would fight for his right to live and question the world, and it was the moment that Shok was truly born. The days that followed were a wonder for Shok, it was the first time in years that he was free. He wandered the wilds of Seheron aimlessly, finding refuge under whatever tree would hold him for the evening and feeding on the animals that were unfortunate enough to cross his path. Those days of lost bliss came to an end when a group of the fabled fog warriors stumbled upon him. Be it from pity or curiosity, but the fog warriors did not outright attack Shok. They took the poor wretch back to their camp and even helped nurse his wounds, freeing his lips from their stiches and giving him a true place to rest. Shok had spent a few years among the fog warriors, he felt indebted to them for what they did. He learned much about their plight and cause, wanting no more than a place where their people could be free from the control of the war of the Qunari and Tevinter, Shok couldn't help but empathize. The fog warriors helped improve Shok's understanding of the common tongue and in return he aided them with their medical needs, it appeared they had been with out a proper healer for quite sometime and his expertise from his past life were greatly appreciated. He eventually was even taught their secret of creating their legendary fog, it was rather simple alchemy in Shok's opinion, but the symbolic importance was not lost on him. As Shok lived among the fog warriors he found himself studying a different field that he never expected in his previous life, magic. With the restriction that he once lived under lifted he poured everything he had into understanding the ebbs and flows of the mystic arts. Lacking a formal instructor Shok turn to studying the most active magic users on the island, the Tevinter mages. Shok managed to get ahold of quite a number of Tevinter tomes about magical practice, their techniques were a whole new world of magic to him. Eventually his studies lead him to the school of magic that made Tevinter so vilified, blood magic. Blood magic was more primal and powerful than anything Shok had ever felt, but more importantly it was the most free form of magic he could find, he did not need to tap into the Fade or rely on a demon or spirit, all the power came from him. Eventually Shok's studies started to pull him away from the fog warriors, he would not be able to continue to grow if he stayed with them. He thanked them for their kindness and swore that if they ever needed them that he would be there for them before he bid them a goodbye. Shok managed to smuggle himself off of Seheron to the mainland on a cargo ship with a small family of run away elven slaves who he quickly formed a bond with. He decided to remain with the group until he felt that they had reached a safe enough location outside of the reach of their master. They traveled together for a few weeks until they parted ways in a small village in the Free Marches. With that endeavor aside Shok was now in what might as well been a whole new world. He wondered Thedas, acquiring as much magical knowledge as he could. Shok found that whenever he needed coin, which was quite the new concept to him, he was able to offer his services as a healer. Eventually his travels lead him to Hasmal where he would find his services being requested by a group of mercenaries, Shok took the job seeing that the coin was far more than he had been receiving as a wandering healer. Personality A lifetime of having the world beat him down has left Shok rather cold, he finds it hard to not see the horrors that lay just beneath the surface of things. Despite this and all the atrocities he has both gone through and committed Shok still has a burning passion for healing, he tries his best to make the pain of life just a little bit easier where he can. He still has his inquisitive mind, he yearns to unlock the secrets of the world regardless of the form that they present themselves to him in. It should be no surprise that Shok does not shy away from getting his hands dirty, even if it means delving into more morally questionable actions. He has a soft spot for the downtrodden, being able to empathize with their situations. Shok is a rather straight shooter, he doesn't really know how to sugar coat things for people. Though he has renounced the Qun he still acts with the strong sense of purpose that a Qunari would. During his time with the fog warriors he learned to appreciate the art of story telling, he spent many a night enthralled by the tales of the group's fog dancer. It also seems to be quite the universal truth that many of the horned giants, Qunari or not, have quite the sweet tooth and Shok is no exception. Curriculum Vitae Years served A little bit under one year Profession Mage | Saarebas/Blood Mage Modius Operandi Shok is like a glass cannon, he unleashes powerful attacks but he can't take too much damage. His best place on the battle field is mid range where he can get close enough to lay into enemies, but still able to retreat if need be. Skills Healer Shok spent years studying both the body as well as the advances in Qunari medicines. Even without his magic Shok is able to provide medical aid in times of need. Qunari Born Many outsiders and even many converts to the Qun have a hard time understanding it, Shok dose not have this problem. Being born into it Shok had the lessons of the Qun drilled into his mind everyday. If one has questions about anything from Qunari beliefs to their military strategies Shok would be a great start. Forbidden Knowledge Unlike many others Shok does not hold back from diving into what many consider the darker and dangerous studies. Important Relations Fog Warriors The freedom fighters back on Seheron, Shok still feels that he owes them for everything they have done for him. Zathlen Family The elven family he traveled with, they are currently settled down in a small village in the Free Marches Thoughts Aseema Viranni "Much like a leaf in the breeze her course changes on a whim. The girl is young and adventurous, with a mind that questions the world around her. Though her inquisitive nature is commendable her naivety when it comes to understanding the effects of her actions will one day be her undoing." Eirny "A small flame in a raging storm, always on the verge of being blown out. Her passion for the care of others is amiable, I have seen far too little of it in my life. Her sharp mind and skill in healing is impressive, but she is far too trusting. Her willingness to hear the whispers of the beings from the Fade is concerning, how long until one leads her astray." Erinya - Ishanni "Like a diseased tree she appears to stand strong, but what lies beneath her bark is twisted. The woman is hurt in a way few understand, the Qunari call it asala-taar or soul sickness. I have seen it on Seheron, when a warrior goes through the fires of battle they may come back unscathed physically but missing a part of themselves far more important. I do not know what has broken her, but I know she drives on because that is all she has left to do." Garlenn Fellblade "Tough as the same stone his people worship. He is bold and crass, the dwarf lacks a sense of restraint. He does however understand that in this world some situations can only be resolved with bloodshed." Krios Ar Tae O Darkhold "Cold and strong like the mountains he hails from. He reminds me much of a Qunari; quite, focused, and tasked driven. I admire the fact that he is one of the more practical humans I have met in my travels." Ovra Paerat "Confident and silver tongued, her words flow like honey, but behind it all lays a viper. She reminds me of the ben-hassrath, her motives unknown but her actions absolute. Though I admire her skill I do not wish to turn my back to her less her dagger finds a place in it." Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition Shok, like many saarebas, does not chanle his magic from a staff but rather fires bolts of energy from his hands. The closest thing to a weapon he carries is a small dagger that he uses to draw his blood. Spells Saarebas A saarebas is not like most mages when it comes to combat, they attack harder and with a ferocity of an animal. Shok himself had always focused on ice and fire attacks to lay waste to his enemies. His magic is mainly offensive focused with the occasional spell thrown in to help him get away from enemies. Blood Mage Shok uses his blood to power his magic, preferring this over pulling power from the Fade. He does not have the level of control to manipulate the actions of others, but he is able to heal himself from the blood of fallen enemies as well as boil the blood within a foe to damage them. Clothing & Armor 1x Hooded Leather Coat 2x Cloth Shirt 2x Cloth Pants 2x Leather Boots Tools & Things 1x Medical Kit 1x Personal Magic Tome Potions & Poultices 2x Health Potions 1x Lyrium Potion 3x Regeneration Potion Ingredients & Rations 1x Waterskin ?x He always some how has some sort of small baked good, usually a type of cookie Bags & Pouches 1x Satchel 1x Coin Purse 1x Backpack Odds and Ends 1x Saarebas Mask 1x Tent 1x Bed Roll

Aseema était assez loin pour être témoin de ce qui se passait dans les négociations. Si tu l'appelles comme ça. Elle savait tout de suite que cela finirait mal, car évidemment ils ne sont pas les meilleurs pour gérer les choses diplomatiquement. Il y a des fois qu'elle a souhaité qu'ils fassent une exception à la prière de la foule plus intimidante, les chances sont que les choses deviennent plutôt laides en un instant s'ils le font. Et Asseema ne voudrait certainement pas se moquer des gens comme ce mage, tevinter ou autre. Pourtant, assez vrai, le danger serait plus ou moins pas différent de plonger dans une ruine maudite, et finir par réveiller un couple d'âmes vendeuses dehors pour le sang mortel, mais tant qu'elle était assez rapide pour s'en enfuir, cela fait toute la différence. Et comme ça, les choses ont dégénéré. Pendant que les autres se livraient à la bataille, Aseema regardait toujours le mur. Une fois que ça s'est effondré, ils sont tous foutus. Il semble que la marée de la bataille se tourna plus tôt vers leur faveur, quand une flèche perça le cou du mage dans une lueur de vitesse. Erinya a déjà tiré. Elle trouve son étrange, entre la ligne de fascination et le malaise, mais elle admet qu'elle sait manier avec maîtrise un arc. Ce n'est pas seulement un truc d'elfe après tout. "Il est temps d'extirper le reste d'entre eux." Elle s'est moquée, s'éloignant plus loin de sa position, presque à côté de Garlenn, assez près du champ de bataille. L'un d'eux a essayé de s'enfuir. -- Non, vous ne le ferez pas. En un instant, le sol tremble au-dessous de lui, puis il savait qu'il était enfermé dans une terre solide, de la tête au cou. Ils ne voudraient pas le risquer de demander du renfort maintenant, n'est-ce pas? Elle a fait la même chose aux autres à sa portée, elle a coconné un autre qui visait légèrement à côté de sa direction, Eiryn spécifiquement. Aseema était assez content pour les laisser immobiles et s'attendait à ce que ses camarades fassent les enchères. Elle en avait fait assez pour un jour.

Aseema Viranni Female| 26 | Elf Basic Info Birthplace The Dales Appearance A dark haired elf with a slender frame, soft features and a pale rosy complexion riddled with gentle freckles, Aseema sticks out a girlish charm given that she's fairly older than she actually looks. She cant even recall how many times the local guards mistake her to be some delinquent teenager on the streets and this would annoy her to an extent. Appearance wise she is fairly good looking though at most she wears her face uninvitingly, in a indifferent and frowning expression, undermining her true indicative beauty. Her eyes are most expressive, round and long lashed in a way that one could easily see though her even if she says so little. The elf considers this as one of her dire weaknesses as her helpless responses gives whatever she's hiding away so instantly and finds it a challenge to hide unnecessary feelings. Aseema hates the sun. From her experience, her pallid complexion is prone to the nastiest sunburns so most likely she dons over a cloak to keep her protected. Her hair is a dark wavy mess, usually tied up to keep it in place. Her choice of clothing would be robes and leathers, light enough to move around and protected at the same time. She carries around a satchel bag to contain her equipments. Background Aseema was practically born into keeperhood. While every mage born elf clamor and kill for at an opportunity, Aseema more likely considers it a misfortune rather than anything. This was never the case back when she was younger. As early as five her guardians instilled the fantasy and glamor of keeperhood, which the young Aseema fell for. It was hard training but she proved to be the best among her contenders. Aseema had very limited memory of her own parents. She never knew her father, who had died whilst defending the clan from slavers and her mother had to raise her alone until she disappeared one day. Her hunting pary went missing, and never knew what became of them. Only some speculations that they were intercepted by Tevinter slavers. She was then taken under the care of various relatives before officially becoming the keeper's first. One day she went exploring, a young Aseema happened to pass by an old abandoned home filled with nothing but old and worn out books. It was a shame for someone to leave them forlorn so as to not have them go to waste, and out of her own curiosity she secretly brought some back to the camp to read. Her interest of human books grew, from the pages she saw another world beyond the clan. It excited her, awakening the wanderlust within her and from then on fantasized of going to these worlds. She would regularly visit her favorite spot and contently indulge herself in literature all day. In many ways books had educated her about the world beyond the confines of her clan. The customs, the people, their clothing and politics. All these made her scrutinize the clan's own purposes, realizing how small and narrow they are compared. The dalish are a stagnant community, never really improving, nor learning anything new and Aseema knew from then on that she did not want to live that way. The isolation and limits of tradition dragged her, a concern she one day shared to her mentor. Yet the keeper was not so glad about what his young first had been mysteriously learning and later on found out that she had been bringing in foreign books inside the clan. He saw this as a distraction to her true duties, and ordered them to get rid off it. She was torn between her fate as the keeper, and her desire for adventure. Until one night of fitful argument had ultimately fixed her decision, on going on a spontaneous adventure that very next morning. Like any other young, naive and adventurous soul, Aseema stood by her desire to leave and hid on a carriage cart to be smuggled out the Dales, never looking back on the life she came to detest. It didn't take long for her to regret that decision however. The moment she was dropped to Hamsal, became the most tumultuous moment in her life. Aseema could not keep up with everything and since she wasn't exactly ready and well equipped for it, with no real knowledge aside from the books she read. What she saw had greatly disappointed her. Hamsal was really nothing like the progressive and colorful human cities that she had read about. Only that at any given moment was some sort of danger waiting to pounce at her around the corners. It was an over all peculiar and terrifying experience. Yet the young elf is not without spirit, at least to a certain extent. She navigated the city as best she could, at the same time careful and observant of any possible danger. But this wasnt enough prevention from muggers, slavers and one time, the Circle as she carelessly made a public display of her magical abilities. Her naivete was mostly to blame for this series of unfortunate encounters. The days she spent in the city, her luck slowly depletes with it. Though she found work at a local tavern, and is doing a terrible job at it, had somehow helped her get by, but one day things started to turn around when she was given an opportunity for mercenary work. Something that she never really considered before but at that point she gladly went for it. The promise of adventure hooked her right in, and got rid of her plain tavern job. It was an opportunity she could not miss that she practically threw herself at her employer, but ultimately her abilities proved her to be a well deserved addition to the Oathbreakers. Personality Aseema has this unquenchable thirst for knowledge. She always has this desire to learn new things and the drive to delve into the unknown and unexplored. Anything new to her is bound to gain her interest, it goes without saying such character is prone to some trouble along the way. She lives by a "what could possibly go wrong" attitude, hence uncaring of the consequences and willingly taking risks whether light or heavy makes no difference to her, all for the sole purpose of learning. Although she says that, when bad decisions came with regrets, it's one thing that will eat her the most. Seen as quiet, uncaring and indifferent, she lights up like forest fire when her interests are a subject, her eyes would glimmer at anything exciting and mostly she has a hard time concealing it. Basically, she's always the first to lose at a game of wicked grace. Growing up in seclusion from the outside, it's only natural for her to be wary among new people, this did not help her much at the beginning however the time she spent with the group years later had made her got over that. In those ten years, she remarkably matured and grew, and more so understanding the world in both viewpoint and action. Aseema still hung around during those ten years, considering that she has nowhere else to go if she ever did. Sure there are other opportunities to take, and her thirst for adventure would take her between continents but at the end of the day she finds herself coming back to them, she grew so sentimental that she could never imagine living a life without them, more than she likes to admit. Curriculum Vitae Years served A decade Profession Mage | Keeper Modius Operandi Aseema does both offensive and defensive with a preference for long ranged combat, as her obvious lack of physical strength makes her useless in upfront combat unless she's shapeshifting. Skills Dalish Lore- Has a reasonable amount of knowledge about the Dalish, being born and educated there. Alchemy- Has a wide range of knowledge with herbs and alchemical healing. Stealth- Developed from years of keeping away from trouble, she can manage to slip into anything if it calls for desperate measures. . Important Relations: Keeper Falael - Clan keeper, mentor. The closest father figure she has since her own. A serious and demanding man, yet compassionate and approachable. They had a heated argument because of her own doubts of the clan and keeperhood. She regrets her actions towards her up to this day, and wishing she could go back and be forgiven, only to give her some ease. Nayara - Mother. The clan's head hunter, one day went missing together with her party. It was believed that they were ambushed or killed by Tevinter slavers while on their hunting. A fun and loving mother to Aseema. One of the fondest memories of she has of her is the lullaby she hums when putting a very young Aseema to sleep, carrying in her arms and the smell and feel of her long dark hair against her cheeks. Felix - Barman, old boss. The moment Aseema came into the tavern, he instantly figured the girl wasnt from around the city. He almost pitied her, and the moment he realized she seemed like needing some help. Though he may be twice as demanding and hard assed as the keeper, he was kind enough to offer her a job and a place to stay. Aseema would still visit the tavern if she had the time, if only to unwind and have a mug of his good stuff. Thoughts: Feelings on the other members of the group. To be filled in later. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition -Heartwood Staff -Carving knife Spells -Primal magic- the manipulation of earth and sky, can be used as both offensive and defensive. Aseema can conjure up a wall of earth or armor for protection against instantaneous attacks, or project lightning towards enemies. -Shape shifting- When things get up close and personal, she turns into a bear and maul the nearest bad guy. She only knows how to shift into one type of animal. Clothing & Armor -Leather Armor -Short fur cloak -Leather boots -Dark hand wraps Tools & Things -Herbalist kit -Leather bound journal -Charcoal pen Potions & Poultices -Healing Poultice (3x) -Healing Potion (2x) -Lyrium Potion (2x) Ingredients & Rations -Bundles of freshly picked elfroot -Waterskin - Bags & Pouches -Satchel Bag -Bandolier Odds and Ends ...

Alors que le chaos éclatait et que la bataille commençait, Krios se retrouvait sans caractère en se retirant des lignes de front. Normalement, il aurait été le premier à plonger dans (bien, si Garlenn ne l'avait pas battu) mais dans ce cas, il a décidé que couvrir Shok était la meilleure décision. Même avec le mur d'Aseema, Krios ne pouvait pas s'empêcher de penser que le guérisseur et la prime du groupe étaient peut-être un peu exposés à l'ennemi mage et arbalètes. Il s'est rapidement emparé latéralement de son bouclier, en prenant quelques boulons de braquage lors de son repositionnement. Lorsqu'un boulon errant a manqué de près le géant gris, il n'a fait que confirmer ses préoccupations. Quand il était à environ un mètre du Tal-Vashoth, il prit un genou pour mieux se protéger, la grande masse de bois obscurcissant la plupart de son corps. "Je t'ai pris le dos, concentre-toi sur notre nouvel ami ici!" Krios a crié, regardant en arrière vers son camarade. Cependant, les démêlés incohérents de Shok affirmaient clairement qu'il le faisait déjà. Le guerrier regarda la bataille de derrière son bouclier, son oeil gauche se baladant légèrement autour de la jante en bois. Le mage ennemi semblait avoir été abattu, tout comme quelques autres coureurs. Et maintenant leur elfe avait limité les mouvements des autres. Bien qu'il semble que leur petit groupe ait rapidement gagné le dessus, Krios a gardé sa position. Si quelque chose allait complètement mal, alors au moins il pourrait planter sa hache dans le crâne du cavalier tombé et voler les chasseurs de leur prime. Pour tout ce qu'ils savaient, un autre groupe de coureurs pourrait être juste au-dessus de l'horizon, ou le mage abattu pourrait se transformer en quelque abomination. Mieux vaut le jouer en toute sécurité et ne pas céder à l'excès de confiance.

Art by BEmmaa (I think) Krios Ar Tae O Darkhold Male | 36 | Avvar Basic Info Birthplace Frostback Mountains Appearance Krios stands at around 6ft1 and is of a hefty build, both naturally and as a result of physical fitness. As someone who has spent his entire life fighting either the elements or other living things, he has grown to appreciate the need to keep healthy and thus boasts an impressively toned body. Though even a child can kill a bear if they strike in the right places. His dark brown hair is long and relatively messy, which alongside his grown-out beard gives him a rather bestial appearance. Whilst his hair hides his large rugged jaw and smooths out some of his features, his gloomy ebony eyes give off a ‘don’t fuck with me vibe’. His body has the odd scar here and there, but nothing overally dramatic or noticeable. Background Krios was born to Darkhold, an Avvar clan in the Frostback Mountains. He was the eldest of two brothers, his younger brother being Rex. His mother was Tae, the clan’s Shaman, and his father was a warrior named Tuborg. Growing up Krios was trained how to survive the harsh mountain environment and like most of the boys trained to fight as often as he could. Due to his mother being the Shaman he also witnessed all manner or rituals and magic, but did not seem to have much in the way of magical ability himself (not that he minded). As soon as he was able he began joining the hunting parties and over the years honed his survival instincts and learnt how to fight against wild beasts, rivals/bandits, and the odd darkspawn. When he was in his late twenties his mother passed, prompting him and his brother to go on a pilgrimage to one of the ranges tallest peaks. They had been told by their mother that it was where the Great Bear Sigfrost (their patron God) sat and that on her passing they should go to him for wisdom. The two travelled for weeks and on many occasions came close to death, be it from malnutrition, the elements or threats. When at last they reached the peak, or what they thought was the right peak, Krios passed out and entered the Fade. Worried for his brother, Rex dragged Krios into a cave and wrapped him in furs before setting off towards what he though was shouting in the distance. In the fade Krios came face to face with Sigfrost (or at least a being claiming to be Sigfrost) and took the opportunity to challenge him for knowledge. He was successful and was rewarded with mystical energies that he didn’t fully understand. Upon waking he followed his brother’s markings a fair distance, surprised that he had been left alone and unaware of how much time had passed. After about an hour he came across a cave and found signs of battle. To his horror he found a couple of darkspawn corpses and his brother’s bow and quiver. For days Krios, still fatigued from the pilgramige, desperately tracked the small group of darkspawn down the mountains and into the Korcari Wilds. When he eventually caught up to them he was devastated to find that all that remained of his brother were odd scraps and limbs, that they had been using him to feed their bereskarn. In a bloodlust fuelled rage Krios charged into battle and begun butchering them all. It was only by virtue of his new abilities that he was able to defeat them, and only then barely. Filled with shame for failing to protect his brother, Krios could not bear to return to his tribe and instead set-off north, eventually finding himself in Fereldan where he resorted to Mercenary work. This is what led him to come into contact with The Oathbreakers Personality Krios is incredibly practical minded, mostly as a result of his environment. Whilst he is usually rather serious he can, on rare occasions, crack or take a joke. He responds badly to anyone attempting to intimidate him and has no fear of fighting. He is good under-pressure and whilst he likes to take charge of a situation, he will listen to the opinions and suggestions of others. As an Avvar he finds some cultural aspects of ‘regular life’ strange and finds the chantry and its beliefs irritating. He loves large meals, ale and sharing stories. He hates staying in one place for too long and becomes infuriated at the sight of bereskarn. Curriculum Vitae Years served 6 years Profession Spirit Warrior Modius Operandi Krios tends to fight on the front lines and gets up close and personal with his axe. Skills Good survivalist able to track and hunt. Very skilled fighter when using his axe and can use a sword nearly as well. Can shoot a bow but not too well (he's certainly not an archer, and prefers to use traps when hunting). Good climber. Has learnt moderate control over Beyond the Veil and Soulbrand, but is fatigued more as a result of using them. He continues to practice the use of spirit warrior techniques in his own time. He cannot swim. Important Relations: His father Tuborg - “I’ve not seen my old man since I left the tribe nearly a decade ago. He probably thinks I died along with my brother – and truth be told, it’s probably better that way.” WIP TBC TBH CBA Thoughts: Feelings on the other members of the group. To be filled in later. Tools of the Trade Weapons & Ammunition 1 waraxe – veridium 1 medium-sized round shield - His brother’s yew bow and quiver Spells Mages only. Keep it reasonable Clothing & Armor Wears a mix of studded leather armour and fur. He sometimes wears a massive hooded fur cloak over this. His axe sits holstered on his belt, his quiver on his thigh and his bow on his back (which is awkward to remove whilst wearing his cloak. Of course, he has to dress down when in a warmer climate. Tools & Things 1 water flask 1 drinking horn Flint and steel for fire starting Potions & Poultices 1 roll of bandages Ingredients & Rations 4 dried strips of beef 1 piece of salted pork 1 small loaf of bread, torn into smaller scraps Bags & Pouches Caries two small pouches that hang together on the back left of his waist, and are usually hidden by his cloak. Odds and Ends 1 small wooden figurine

JEU EST OUVERTE À POSTER Statut d'IC OUVERT/CLOSÉ Types de caractères fermés Étudiants du secondaire de deuxième année Étudiants de première année Étudiants du secondaire de troisième année Enseignants Nous n'avons pas encore d'enseignants. Nombres de personnages Femmes - 9 Hommes - 12 Étudiants du collège - 0 Élèves du secondaire - 12 (5-3s)(6-2s)(1-1s) Étudiants du collège - 9 (5-1s)(3-2s)(1-3s) Non-humains - 5 Personnages hétérosexuels - 10 ( 5M - 5F) Caractères homosexuels - 3 (3M - 0F) Bisexuel - 6 (2M - 4F) Asexuels/démisexuels - 2

Isabella Stern Be it thy nature, or nurture, ones own choice, or the wrong path taken; one will find themself face to face with death. Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/Demi-romantic School Year Collage 1st year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Poetry Warm beverages Cats Black Novels Dislikes Loud noises Surprises Disruptions Hobbies Novelist & Poet Isabella spends a great deal of her free time writing both novels and poetry, often dedicating hours to editing her stories and going to various poetry readings Fears Above all else, Isabella fears being rejected by the ones she loves most and being unnoticed by the objects of her affection. She is careful to avoid such contact and people she would easily get along with simply for this reason, though she is afraid to remain alone just as much as she fears rejection. Personality At her base, Isabella is a quiet girl who enjoys the company of few but resents that of many. She is calm and level headed, rational and yet at times her judgement is clouded by her feelings like any other. She craves companion ship, but often pushes others away without a second thought to preserve her own state of being for she has seen many a girl ruined by love. She is selfless when it comes to helping those she does not have a personal connection with though when she becomes attached to someone she becomes incredibly selfish though that selfishness is masked by a selfless wish for them to be happy. A compassionate and poetic individual she may almost always speak in phrases that resemble a poem of sorts, and hold that which she refuses to speak for herself. Biography A child runs, plays in the sand, Dances and twirls as new moon spans But hence we must give sweet goodbye To the innocent child that we once were. Sadness and doubt could her eyes, Fear and love pine her mind Looking for sweetness in a world of dread As victims pile on her mans hands. Love and betrayal go hand in hand For once we were young, Without knowledge of danger With love and kindness we all seek, Before life turned grey and we died inside. Hands touch where they should not, Rough and calloused; Ropes that bind, Tie and scar, we cannot hide From our grave mistakes. We trusted, Loved and spoke together; Shared and played; We thought we were safe. When he came for us It was our mistake, For trusting and loving Beyond their faith. We were young once, When we tempted fate, Love and lost For our mistake. Extras Bate of Birth December 29th, 20XX Pets She is in possession of two cats, a black one and a white one that she has special permission to keep in her dorm room since she is lacking a dorm mate. Damian Luv We all face them; the discrimination and the hate; Some more than others Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Homosexual/Homo-romantic School Year High School - 3rd Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Older men Cute things Coffee Supernatural; especially Cas Mythology Dislikes Pushy women and men Carrots Tobacco Boredom Hobbies Fashion/Room Design Fears Being alone in the dark; due to past experiences in the dark Personality Humble || Easily Embarrassed || Nerdy || Relaxed || Chill Regardless of how easy it is to make this soft spoken, gentle hearted boy blush it is nearly impossible to anger him enough for him to show it; especially if he doesn't care for the one attempting to anger him. Understanding and a great listener he's a compatible friend for nearly anyone in existence - he's even pretended to be a friends boyfriend to get her out of a sticky situation. On the other hand when he cares for someone they could easily upset him though he's rarely pushed to tears like many would expect of the usually very passionate homosexual. Biography The young man reached behind him to catch onto the nightstand beside his bed, looking for the switch to the lamp he kept there in case of his late night cravings to read or simply need a light on for a time. He found the cool metal stem and his eyes closed in preparation for the light but all he could feel then was heat; all he could smell was sweat, sex and alcohol; he could hear the heavy breathing and the grunts. He did not turn, he did not cower from these memories, instead he stayed still, allowing them to pass before he curled up once again in the dark and allowed himself a fitful rest before the morning light. James Sebastian Miles Lean on me and everything will be alright; I'll always be here Age 23 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual School Year College Third Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Milk Sports Hanging out with friends Nighttime walk Taking pictures Having fun Cookies Dislikes Being alone Thinking too much about the past Being around his ex-fiance Oranges and Orange cake Hobbies Photography James has always had a knack for taking pictures, and more often than not he can be found with his face behind a camera taking pictures or filming. He has an eyes for motions, for capturing emotions in his images. Fears At his very core, James is afraid to fall in love again; regardless of how well a persona he has created and how much confidence he outwardly shows to others, he is afraid of the basic human emotion; he is afraid of love. Fore he has learned that where there is love, there is an endless stream of pain and betrayal, of tears and gaping wounds no one can see. Scars that never heal. Personality Loving, Devoted and Strong. James often does all he can for those he cares about, giving up even the important things to rush to his loved ones side without a second thought to what it was he had been doing before. His own concerns always come after those around him and he often finds himself taking one of his friends out for a night on the town, or staying in and watching movies with them. In some cases he brings over pizza and chocolate when his female friends end up broken hearted. For most everyone he is a rock for them to lean on when they're down, someone they can depend on to be there when they need him most and yet he never seems to need their help, when offered or even insisted upon. Passive, Accepting and Determined. Not one to start an argument with someone else, James will sit back and listen calmly to another before carefully phrasing his own opinions and conclusions after hearing everything that they have to be said. He doesn't threaten others and more often then not doesn't get upset over things as easily as the people around him. Nothing escapes his notice when it comes to the people he chooses to speak to, their urge to accepted if they're an outsider especially so and he always greets someone - new or old - with open arms and a friendly smile to say that they're accepted and welcome with him. Of course when there is something he puts his mind to he has a very bad - or good , depending how you look at it - habit of doing everything in his power to accomplish it; be it finding something good to eat or saving a girl from a man on the street. He will do all in his power to achieve his goals. Seeing him give up is a very rare sign and often one of heartbreak and sadness. Passionate, Protective and Empathetic No matter what James does he always finds something to love about it, something to get excited for, something to give it a point for him, even if it is silly. Very passionate about his hobbies and interests he always tries to find a way to spread that love of an activity or object, no matter how silly it may seem to others. He's not afraid to shown that he loves something or someone, his heart on his sleeve and yet still protected now. When he loves something or someone he will try his best to make them happy, to smile with them and laugh, to protect them from everything that he can so they won't have to turn anymore; even from his own pain he protects them. In the case that someone he cares for his threatened, the not usually violent man, will willingly fight to protect them, putting himself in harms way to see that they don't fall under the wrath of someone else and instead takes that burden for himself, along with any others he can find. He never shows any signs of carrying too much on his shoulders, no cracks o leaks in his smiles, no tears unless it's a sad movie, nothing but that smiling rock that everyone so needs in their life. Emotions on the other hand are an easy thing for him to understand, the hidden tears behind the smiles that he knows, he understands very well. The way that someone will avoid the subject to avoid the pain and any other thing that could show a subtext that even they themselves may not realize are giving off. Careful, Guarded and Depressed. Some people change behind closed doors, when they're alone they find things so much easier than being with others and having to smile. Jame genuinely loves to be around people, to smile and laugh with friends but he still harbors that inner loneliness that comes with great loss to himself. When with others he is careful not to let on toward his own inner struggles as he moves only to help others and see the smiling faces of the people around him. Seeing love makes him happy, but yet it hurts him more than anything else because he knows that he won't have that again. Biography The screeching started again; the battle of two voices rising higher and higher, a seemingly endless contest of will, mockery and anger lacing the two voices that the small boy could hear from his bedroom. Dark hair disheveled from his desperate flight from the living room at the appearance of the second person, a man he was supposed to recognize as his father, his feet pounding on the stairs. He tripped, twisting his ankle in his haste but he ignored it until he was save under the covers of his bed, trying to be as quiet as possible and ignore the sounds coming from downstairs. It was so loud and so scary. It didn't happen much and they always told him it was fine afterward, that they were happy and that nothing was ever wrong but he didn't really believe them. How could he believe them when he came home to it? Years later he boy was a young man in high school, sitting alone in his room with music blasting in his ears. If asked he would say he's gotten used to the yelling and the fights that take place downstairs, detached himself from the situation and perfectly ready to leave when he gets the chance. Hood pulled up and covering his face he lifted his backpack and walked out the door passed the two, silent and obviously fighting again people. They thought he didn't know. The sounds of the students in the halls was lost on him as he weaved his way through, music blasting in his ears as he ignored everyone, eyes downcast and invisible in the crowds. Sophomores found their way o classes but just as he walked passed the room his hood and headphones were yanked off as he lacked the care to pay attention. He was invisible so he wouldn't have expected it either but when he lifted his eyes off the ground he saw a girl standing in front of him with her headphones in her hand; his music still playing clearly. "What do you want?" He asked her, none to kindly and then she smiled. It was so hard to ignore. She was the only person to find him every morning, to take him to class and make sure he went. The only person to smile at him endlessly until he smiled back. The only person he spoke to about anything that went on at home. She was the only person he could ever love. And she broke his heart. On the bridge of twenty, he was just counting down the days before the two of them would get married, all of her family and their friends there to see them happy. To see that he could smile as much as he still did. But that was the day he caught her cheating on him, saying that she never loved him in the first place. He was just a charity case for her. That was the end of the beginning. Extras James was born February 29th He is attending the school on a scholarship offered to him because of his grades, he cares not for the match program but for the education the facility can provide him with. Theme Song = Under and Over by Egypt Central

Salle de dortoir Cresent: Magdaline Magdaline n'avait pas d'endroit où être et n'était pas d'humeur à aller n'importe où. Ses cours ne commenceraient pas avant demain soir, et elle avait tout le temps libre dans le monde. Enfin, ayant tout le matériel dont elle avait besoin pour finir son chef-d'œuvre sur le côté de son mur, elle s'est levée et a mis ses cheveux dans un chignon et a commencé à pousser ses affaires autour, elle travaillait sur son mur d'accent depuis un certain temps maintenant et a décidé de son plan et de son design de naviguer Pinterest pendant des heures. En plus de finir sa chambre, elle n'a pas pu sortir sa colocataire de sa tête. Ayant des problèmes comme c'est avec les premières impressions et les introductions, elle haïssait le fait qu'elle ait dû sortir de sa zone de confort, pour parler et ne pas sembler ennuyeux. Elle espérait que sa colocataire ne serait pas impolie, rien de tel que vivre dans un dortoir avec quelqu'un que tu détestes. Quoi qu'il en soit, elle allait observer cette colocataire et voir quel genre de personne ils sont vraiment, peut-être qu'ils pourraient être de bons amis? Elle en avait besoin après s'être séparée des autres.

Laila Gray However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results. - Winston Churchill Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual/Not romantic but isn't against romantic things (Not aromantic) School Year 3rd high school year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes The ocean Reading Drawing Bike rides Bananas Rain All animals Dislikes Silence Hot weather Children Blood Hobbies Going for walks or runs Fears The dark Spiders Busy roads Personality Calm and collected, Laila is often noted for her ever-present laid back attitude and borderline sarcastic nature. She is approachable, the sort of person who you would entrust with your deepest and most guarded secrets. Although pessimistic she is always seen with a smirk on her face whatever situation making her seem rude.. or kind, depending on said situation. She isn't one to jump into a conversation for no reason and will only speak when she feels is needed or is spoken to which makes her come across as mysterious, but around people she trusts she is an open book. When she does speak for no reason it is usually under her breath and sarcastic or with humorous intention.. although no one hears it. Biography Laila was brought up in a small countryside commuters village in Dorset near the coast. Both her parents worked in London and were always too busy to look after her, and so the nanny was more of a parent than both her mother and father have ever been. Growing up in an area with a population of about 400 people was pretty easy and relaxing for Laila, she never felt as if anything was missing and honestly didn't care for romantic relationships. However her parents thought otherwise, they started to notice that she was less sociable than the other teenagers in the village and believed she was lonely, when the headteacher of her school mentioned Ivy Wood Academy they jumped at the chance and sent her there without a second thought. Of course she was completely against the idea. The only person she loved was her nanny, the woman who had been looking after her and caring for her for 16 years, she saw her as a mother figure but the nanny quit after a dispute with Laila's real mother which broke Laila's heart and made her turn against her birth mother. Laila assumes that she was sent to this academy so that her parents don't have to look after her and the whole 'match' idea is just a cover up excuse.

Niall Christianson Dortoir de la comète Niall passa autour de sa chambre, c'était assez près de la pleine lune qu'il pouvait déjà commencer à sentir la traction de la lune sur son corps. C'était une sorte étrange de sentiment d'essayer de décrire à un humain ou vraiment quelqu'un qui n'était pas un Lycan, une poussée de l'intérieur et une agitation. Il a toujours commencé comme une vibration douce, une sorte de sensation chaude comme quand vous entrez dans une douche chaude après avoir été dehors dans le froid. Il voulait se déplacer mal pour faciliter le tir, mais il n'y avait pas de temps, surtout quand son colocataire devait arriver à tout moment. Son besoin de changement a seulement été repoussé par le besoin de rencontrer la fille qui devait être son match cette année scolaire. L'année dernière avait été un coup complet. La fille à qui il a été son match l'année avant qu'il n'ait même pas eu la peine de montrer sa forme secondaire à. Elle aurait couru crier au premier signe de lui. Un autre humain fermé à l'esprit. Elle ne l'avait traité de bête que depuis deux mois. Niall a glissé mentalement, 'Si seulement elle savait.' Il s'est souvenu avoir réfléchi quand elle l'avait dit. Il avait sérieusement envisagé de la faire peur, mais ce qui était froncé par son sac. Il n'était pas nécessaire d'effrayer les humains, surtout lorsque le nombre de paquets était aussi faible et que la population nationale était aussi faible qu'elle l'était. Sa meute avait perdu une vingtaine de membres depuis sa naissance seule. Les uns aux quelques chasseurs qui ont été laissés parmi les humains et les autres aux combats et à la vieillesse. Son père était l'un des derniers anciens de sa génération et comme il avait décidé qu'il était temps pour un nouveau sang et un nouvel alpha de prendre sa place, la presse était sur Niall pour trouver un conjoint. Les lycans se reproduisent toujours vrai, les gènes qui produisent la capacité de se déplacer et de guérir à des taux avancés sont toujours dominants sur la moitié humaine d'un couple d'espèces mélangées. Les femmes humaines n'ont pas toujours été aussi justes que les femmes lycanes avec la grossesse et la naissance des petits, mais c'était vraiment tout dans la prise en charge. Les pratiques et les médecins lycans ont parcouru un long chemin au cours des dernières décennies. La question la plus courante était celle des côtes cassées, les petits étaient assez forts même dans l'utérus pour briser les côtes s'ils avaient donné un coup de pied dur. C'est pourquoi Niall ou un autre loup serait toujours avec la femelle humaine, parce qu'ils pouvaient contrôler la forme que les petits prenaient et les apaiser assez pour les maintenir relativement immobiles. Avec son esprit ramené au présent Niall a laissé juste un peu de son loup sortir pour faciliter la traction. Ses yeux chauds se déplacent vers un ensemble jaune mortel, le chaume sur son visage grandissant un peu plus, et ses canines allongent légèrement. Pas un mort donne, mais assez pour donner à quelqu'un un sentiment de malaise s'ils sont dans son espace personnel.

Amanda James "I think that 'Weird' is great. It leads to new things and possibilities." Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/romantic School Year College First Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes ♡Cute things ♡Desserts ♡Being Herself Dislikes ♤Dark Chocolate ♤Bullies ♤Extremely narrow minded people ♤Avacados Hobbies ♢Writing ♢Doing DIY projects Fears •Giant Bugs •Being completely alone in the world. (In all aspects) Personality Amanda is a girl who definitely marches to the beat of her own drum. She loves cracking jokes and making stupid puns just because she likes putting smiles on people's faces. She is a girl who is generally happy and looks for the good in things. Though she isn't always so confident. There are times where she doesn't feel good enough to be with those around her and she hides away for a day or 2. Amanda is also a bit stubborn at times. Biography Amanda has led a normal life. She hasn't done anything over the top (at least by her standards) that would be considered different. She has had crushes and the occasional broken heart but usually has managed to bounce back from those seemingly untouched. Coming from a middle class family,  she managed to get a scholarship to Ivy Wood and continues to try and make her family proud, and maybe find a companion along the way.

Max Patel Comète Dorm Max faisait ses valises aujourd'hui, un peu à contrecœur. Il avait promis à Becca que ce serait aujourd'hui le jour où ils emménageraient ensemble. Elle l'a dérangé depuis près d'un an déjà depuis qu'ils ont été jumelés et il a finalement cambriolé. Il savait que ce ne serait pas si mal, vivre avec une fille et Rebecca était gentille et prendrait probablement très bien soin de lui, mais tout le reste était ennuyeux. Et puis, il devrait déballer toutes ses affaires aussi une fois qu'il est arrivé là-bas. C'était beaucoup de travail, mais il savait qu'il devait le faire. Jusqu'à présent, ses vêtements avaient été emballés ainsi que son ordinateur portable, et il débattait de la question de savoir s'il fallait prendre ou non certaines des culottes qu'il avait achetées au cours de l'année scolaire en ligne. Il avait acheté des trucs vraiment aléatoires et n'est pas sûr de ce qu'il faut en faire. Finalement, il a décidé de les prendre tous avec lui, sauf un. "Merci de m'avoir aidé, Liam", a-t-il dit. « Nous venons de commencer à nous entendre et je dois déjà partir. Comme c'est cruel, hein?" Il a plié sur son lit une dernière fois et a pris une profonde respiration. "J'espère que tu auras un colocataire cool et je te verrai toujours en classe. Donc il n'y a pas besoin d'être sentimental." Son futur ancien colocataire était aussi le seul bon ami de Max dans toute l'école. Sa bouche le met habituellement beaucoup d'ennuis ; des ennuis que Liam a souvent travaillé dur pour le sortir de là. Il s'est lentement levé et a placé une boîte de taille moyenne sur le bureau de Liam. "Je me souviens que vous avez vraiment aimé cela quand je l'ai acheté et bien je n'ai pas besoin pour cela, pour que vous puissiez l'avoir," il a dit, nonchalamment. Il a regardé autour du dortoir et a vu qu'il était à moitié vide là où ses affaires étaient. Tout était emballé dans sa valise qui était déjà dans son nouveau dortoir ou dans les rares boîtes qu'il avait laissées porter. Il a ramassé les trois petites boîtes par lui-même et s'est dirigé vers la porte. Il a fait un simple clin d'œil à Liam. À tout à l'heure. Il a commencé à se diriger vers sa nouvelle maison. Les boîtes étaient assez légères, donc ce n'était pas trop mal sur son bras ou sur son dos. Ses mains étaient un peu pleines cependant et comme il se tenait devant la porte de son nouveau dortoir, il a frappé dessus avec son épaule. "Becca! Je suis là avec des boîtes! Pouvez-vous m'ouvrir la porte?" Il a appelé à haute voix, sans vraiment prendre en considération qu'il pourrait ennuyer leur nouveau voisin.

Niall Christianson “Happiness can be found even in the darkest times if one only remembers to turn on the light.” - Dumbledore, JK Rowling Age 20 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Straight/Can be romantic when he chooses to be School Year College 2nd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Working out, hunting with his pack, women Dislikes People he deems have no common sense, people that are weak, especially males, the color yellow, mustard yellow in particular Hobbies Hunting, working out, tracking Fears Being challenged when he becomes Alpha, not finding a match Personality Niall is very logical, even when he might not seem that way. He does everything for a very specific reason. He can be romantic when he wishes to be and can be quite charming at times. However his instincts do sway him a lot of the time, there is only so much control a wolf can have. He does his best not to let the wolf show when he's around other people, humans especially but he can be rather volatile as he doesn't have a mate. One thing to note, never run from him. Ever. Walk away if you must but never run. Niall can also be very possessive as most canids can tend to be. It isn't really ever advisable to touch anything that he considers to be his. This can be items, clothes, or even other individuals. Biography Niall was born into a relatively large pack, a 147 members at the time of his birth. Their numbers are slightly less now hovering around a 120 members or so give or take some floater wolves. Niall's father Keenan is the current reigning Alpha of the pack and has been for the last 70 years or so. Niall, of course, being the Alpha's son lived the good life. He was well protected and had everything he could possibly want. However, with the position comes responsibilities, like learning to fight your way out of mess and talk your way out of one too. One must be a warrior and a diplomat all at the same time. Niall wanted for nothing but spend the majority of his time training and learning from his father. As the oldest son Niall will take the throne when he is deemed ready and has completed the mating ceremony. This requirement is what brought him to Ivy Wood Academy. Non-Human Information Species Lycanthrope, Loup Garou Abilities Niall has a secondary form that is a canid-like creature with no current scientific classification. Weaknesses Niall has a mild allergy to silver, it gives him a rash and makes him itchy when it touches his skin. If pure silver were to get into his bloodstream it would kill him. Other than that only severing his spinal cord will kill him. Extras Niall, is the Alpha's oldest son. As such he is the heir and is expected the find a mate and take the position of Alpha when his father deems him ready.

Salle de dortoir Crescent: Magdaline Enfin en peignant la moitié du mur, elle a décidé de faire une pause. Après environ 10 minutes de repos et de grignotage, elle entendait frapper à l'extérieur de sa porte, elle était nerveuse et craignait d'avoir à ouvrir la porte et de voir sa colocataire. Non pas qu'elle n'était pas heureuse de rencontrer quelqu'un de nouveau mais, que peut-être que la personne ne l'aimait pas, que celui qui était à l'extérieur de la porte lui parlerait immédiatement une aversion pour elle. Et le reste de ses courtes années à ce collège serait malheureux! Mais, elle a secoué l'idée de tous les torts possibles qui pourraient se produire, et a massacré un peu de courage en ouvrant la porte. Elle regardait la fille, elle était plus courte qu'elle. Mais, d'après l'apparence de tous les bagages qu'elle transportait, elle doit être forte. Elle a décidé d'aider avec ses affaires, en marchant dehors et en s'emparant de n'importe quoi pour l'aider à emménager. Elle ne pouvait rien dire, elle était trop nerveuse, surpensant la situation comme toujours. Elle ne voulait pas qu'elle pense qu'elle était bizarre mais, ce navire a probablement déjà navigué.Elle voulait la saluer et la mettre à l'aise, mais elle continuait à marcher avec ses affaires, les plaçant près de son lit.

Laila Gray However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results. - Winston Churchill Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual/Not romantic but isn't against romantic things (Not aromantic) School Year 3rd high school year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes The ocean Reading Drawing Bike rides Bananas Rain All animals Dislikes Silence Hot weather Children Blood Hobbies Going for walks or runs Fears The dark Spiders Busy roads Personality Calm and collected, Laila is often noted for her ever-present laid back attitude and borderline sarcastic nature. She is approachable, the sort of person who you would entrust with your deepest and most guarded secrets. Although pessimistic she is always seen with a smirk on her face whatever situation making her seem rude.. or kind, depending on said situation. She isn't one to jump into a conversation for no reason and will only speak when she feels is needed or is spoken to which makes her come across as mysterious, but around people she trusts she is an open book. When she does speak for no reason it is usually under her breath and sarcastic or with humorous intention.. although no one hears it. Biography Laila was brought up in a small countryside commuters village in Dorset near the coast. Both her parents worked in London and were always too busy to look after her, and so the nanny was more of a parent than both her mother and father have ever been. Growing up in an area with a population of about 400 people was pretty easy and relaxing for Laila, she never felt as if anything was missing and honestly didn't care for romantic relationships. However her parents thought otherwise, they started to notice that she was less sociable than the other teenagers in the village and believed she was lonely, when the headteacher of her school mentioned Ivy Wood Academy they jumped at the chance and sent her there without a second thought. Of course she was completely against the idea. The only person she loved was her nanny, the woman who had been looking after her and caring for her for 16 years, she saw her as a mother figure but the nanny quit after a dispute with Laila's real mother which broke Laila's heart and made her turn against her birth mother. Laila assumes that she was sent to this academy so that her parents don't have to look after her and the whole 'match' idea is just a cover up excuse.

Rebecca Callaghan Dormes d'éclipse Aujourd'hui, c'était un grand jour pour Rebecca et elle s'était levée depuis l'aube. Sa matinée avait été reprise avec le déménagement, bien que la plupart du temps ait été consacré à ses livres. Elle ne possédait pas beaucoup de vêtements et d'objets personnels, quelques tenues et photos de famille. La plupart de son espace a été pris par les livres et les transporter tous de son ancienne chambre à coucher à la nouvelle était une corvée. La chambre Eclipse était étonnamment grande, plus d'une suite, et elle a facilement trouvé un endroit pour toutes ses affaires. Une fois qu'elle a installé toutes ses affaires, elle a fait une visite rapide de la chambre avant de vérifier sa montre. Elle a pensé que Max allait bientôt se pointer, et elle a décidé de commencer leur cohabitation sur une note positive en préparant quelque chose de gentil à manger. Après un voyage rapide pour aller chercher des provisions pour leur cuisine, elle s'est attachée sur son tablier et a pêché quelques livres de cuisine de choix de sa collection. Elle a décidé de quelque chose de simple et a commencé à travailler sur un joli filet de porc remuer des frites. Peu de temps après, l'odeur délicieuse de la cuisine a rempli la pièce. Elle a presque fini de cuisiner quand elle a entendu le choc de la porte et la voix de Max. Elle essuya les mains sur son tablier et se précipita vers la porte, l'ouvrant pour lui et marchant sur le côté pour le laisser entrer avec ses boîtes. "Salut Max." Elle a dit un peu maladroitement, pas tout à fait sûr de comment elle devrait l'accueillir. "Umm... Je finis juste quelque chose à manger si tu as faim. Oh, c'est ça! Elle se souvint soudain des boîtes dans ses bras. "Si tu veux mettre ça dans la chambre, c'est par là." Elle l'a dirigé de la bonne façon. "Avez-vous besoin d'un coup de main?"

Rebecca Callaghan "A book is a portal to a new life. One day I'm a child detective, and the next I'm a swashbuckling pirate. I just have to open a book and dive in." Age 16 years old Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual School Year 2nd year of High School Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Peace and quiet Books Warm sunny days Dislikes Loud crowds Rain People who disrespect literature Hobbies Reading Fears Heights Insects Personality Rebecca has always been a friendly if somewhat quiet person, rarely raising her voice. Despite her soft spoken demeanor, however she has strong beliefs about the value of literature and takes any disrespect towards books very badly. It is these moments that she does raise her voice and has been known to go off lengthy tirades at times. Biography Rebecca was born into a family of male athletes. He father was a track and field star and her three brothers shared his passion for sports, which left Rebecca as the odd duck of the family. She was the only girl and didn't feel much of any pull towards athletics. She didn't have any interest in sports, so her father didn't have any time for her. Fortunately Rebecca still had her mother. Rebecca's mother was an aspiring writer, and while she'd never managed to get anything published, she had an undying love of the written word and the fantastical worlds that could be created with them. She passed this love onto Rebecca and they would spend many nights reading together. When Rebecca's mother passed away from illness, Rebecca considered her love of books to be her mother's greatest gift to her.

Amanda JamesCressent Dorms Amanda a souri à Magdaline. "Hiya, je suis Amanda, quel est ton nom, Roomie?" Elle était soulagée de vouloir l'aider avec ses sacs. Elle a essayé de jogger ses affaires au lit vide, mais ça a fini par ressembler à un speed waddle. "Merci pour l'aide." Elle frotta l'arrière de son cou et prit doucement les sacs restants de Magdaline. "Wow, je pensais que la chambre serait un peu plus petite." Elle a vu le mur que sa colocataire peignait et a fait quelques pas plus près de lui.  "Je vois que tu es savoureuse avec un pinceau." Elle s'est tournée vers elle pour lui sourire. "Je suis meilleur à l'écriture que les arts visuels." Est-ce qu'elle était trop forte? Elle ne l'espérait pas. Peut-être qu'elle était juste silencieuse? Ça pourrait être ça... La fille plus courte regardait le mur avec un sourire sur le visage avant de retourner à ses affaires. "Ne me laissez pas interrompre votre flux. Je serai juste ici pour déballer si tu as besoin de moi." Elle a pris un sac et. Il l'a ouvert, en mettant des vêtements dans leur juste place dans la commode près de son lit. "Au fait, voulez-vous des lumières de fées pour votre côté de la pièce? Parce que j'ai des extras et ça aide si l'un d'entre nous veut rester debout et l'autre veut dormir." Elle aide à faire monter le brin de lumière supplémentaire. "J'ai un brin blanc et un brin noir, les deux vont avec mon thème, donc c'est à vous."

Amanda James "I think that 'Weird' is great. It leads to new things and possibilities." Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/romantic School Year College First Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes ♡Cute things ♡Desserts ♡Being Herself Dislikes ♤Dark Chocolate ♤Bullies ♤Extremely narrow minded people ♤Avacados Hobbies ♢Writing ♢Doing DIY projects Fears •Giant Bugs •Being completely alone in the world. (In all aspects) Personality Amanda is a girl who definitely marches to the beat of her own drum. She loves cracking jokes and making stupid puns just because she likes putting smiles on people's faces. She is a girl who is generally happy and looks for the good in things. Though she isn't always so confident. There are times where she doesn't feel good enough to be with those around her and she hides away for a day or 2. Amanda is also a bit stubborn at times. Biography Amanda has led a normal life. She hasn't done anything over the top (at least by her standards) that would be considered different. She has had crushes and the occasional broken heart but usually has managed to bounce back from those seemingly untouched. Coming from a middle class family,  she managed to get a scholarship to Ivy Wood and continues to try and make her family proud, and maybe find a companion along the way.

Blake Greyson Dortoir de la comète Blake rentrait dans son dortoir. Il venait d'être à la bibliothèque, ramassant des livres intéressants qu'Isabella lui avait recommandés. Blake pensait qu'Isabella pouvait être considérée comme une amie. Ils partageaient un intérêt commun, mais c'est généralement tout ce dont ils parlaient. Ce qui était bien avec Blake, il ne cherchait pas vraiment des amis d'autant plus que les amis apportaient habituellement du drame et des problèmes. Se contentant de la grande pile de livres entre ses mains, Blake est finalement arrivé à son dortoir. Son colocataire, Niall, était une personne décente la plupart du temps. Cependant, parfois, il pouvait être poussant, et agité. À cette époque, Blake se gardait habituellement pour lui-même. En "se tenant à lui-même", Blake s'assit sur son lit avec son nez dans un livre ou en tapant sur son ordinateur portable. Récemment, cependant, Blake a commencé à se rendre compte que ces épisodes de comportement irrationnel et irritable avaient un modèle. C'était presque une fois par mois. Bien que, il pourrait être un résultat du cycle hormonal naturel que tous les humains (qui ont été par la puberté) ont. Après avoir soigneusement déplacé sa pile de livres d'une main, Blake ouvrit la porte à sa chambre et salua Niall.

Angelica "Ann" Byrd “In these times I don't, in a manner of speaking, know what I want; perhaps I don't want what I know and want what I don't know.” Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual School Year 2nd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Fall Green fruit comics Dislikes Pressure (both of the pyhysical and emotional kind) Cottage Cheese sleepless nights Hobbies Cooking Fears She has a fear of the future and where her place in will be in it. Like if she will do something big or at least meaningful, or if she'll just dissapear with the rest of history that was to mudane to remember. Personality Ann is a pretty easy person to get along with, able to start up a conversation up with just about anyone. She's also very honest with people, though she's been told that she dosn't really have any tact. Living in the moment and having fun is important to her and she easily stresses about grades, important things that need to be done, and things like that if she spends to long thinking about them. She also can't seem to really hold a grudge or stay angry for long, and even when she is angry she's not to hot tempered. Overall she's just not a serious person. Biography Ann was born to a photographer (her mom) and a history teacher (her father). Growing up she heard amazing stories of the trips her parents took after they graduated and Ann started to have dream big dreams for herself. But as she grew up her dreams started to fade away as she realized that even after her parent's amazing adventures, they had just settled down and lead ordinary lifes. Ann soon started to think that that was her fate as well, and she was unsure of how to change it. Her parents, seeing their daughter like this, decided to have her enroll into Ivy Wood Academy. After all, it was were they met and their lifes changed. While Ann was excited to be going to a new school she wasn't sure if this was the right choice for her, not acedemic wise. It was the match making part that worried her. On one hand, it would feel good to not have to worry about finding the person for her. On the other hand, Ann wasn't sure if she would feel satisfied that she hadn't put in the effort herself to find her match. But Ann wasn't about to let her mixed feelings get in the way of enjoying the adventure of a new school so she packed her bags and set out for Ivy Wood Academy.

Niall Christianson Dortoir de la comète Niall a entendu les traces de Blake bien avant qu'il ouvre la porte. Tout le monde avait un certain son sur leurs pas et Niall pouvait dire à presque tout le monde avec qui il avait un contact régulier à part s'il avait la peine d'accorder assez d'attention pour différencier. Il a dû faire attention de ne pas bouger trop vite ou de ne pas bouger quand Blake était là. Il s'était assez bien débrouillé jusqu'à présent. Ils étaient colocataires depuis un moment et il ne pensait pas qu'il s'était donné. Il pourrait éventuellement dire à Blake exactement ce qu'il était. Il semblait plus curieux que tout à propos de Niall. Quand Blake a ouvert la porte Niall n'a pas souri, cela aurait montré un ensemble de canines qui ne devrait pas être dans une bouche humaine. Il a donné à Blake un sourire de bouche fermée et il a dit "Hé, je vois que tu es de nouveau allé à la bibliothèque." Il a commenté pendant qu'il allait s'asseoir sur son lit.

Laila Gray However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results. - Winston Churchill Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual/Not romantic but isn't against romantic things (Not aromantic) School Year 3rd high school year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes The ocean Reading Drawing Bike rides Bananas Rain All animals Dislikes Silence Hot weather Children Blood Hobbies Going for walks or runs Fears The dark Spiders Busy roads Personality Calm and collected, Laila is often noted for her ever-present laid back attitude and borderline sarcastic nature. She is approachable, the sort of person who you would entrust with your deepest and most guarded secrets. Although pessimistic she is always seen with a smirk on her face whatever situation making her seem rude.. or kind, depending on said situation. She isn't one to jump into a conversation for no reason and will only speak when she feels is needed or is spoken to which makes her come across as mysterious, but around people she trusts she is an open book. When she does speak for no reason it is usually under her breath and sarcastic or with humorous intention.. although no one hears it. Biography Laila was brought up in a small countryside commuters village in Dorset near the coast. Both her parents worked in London and were always too busy to look after her, and so the nanny was more of a parent than both her mother and father have ever been. Growing up in an area with a population of about 400 people was pretty easy and relaxing for Laila, she never felt as if anything was missing and honestly didn't care for romantic relationships. However her parents thought otherwise, they started to notice that she was less sociable than the other teenagers in the village and believed she was lonely, when the headteacher of her school mentioned Ivy Wood Academy they jumped at the chance and sent her there without a second thought. Of course she was completely against the idea. The only person she loved was her nanny, the woman who had been looking after her and caring for her for 16 years, she saw her as a mother figure but the nanny quit after a dispute with Laila's real mother which broke Laila's heart and made her turn against her birth mother. Laila assumes that she was sent to this academy so that her parents don't have to look after her and the whole 'match' idea is just a cover up excuse.

Max Patel Dormes d'éclipse Max a été accueilli à la porte par Rebecca qui semblait plutôt nerveux. Il ne comprenait pas pourquoi. C'était son idée de vivre ensemble. Elle le voulait depuis qu'il s'en souvenait. Il secoua la tête et porta les boîtes à la chambre à coucher. Après qu'il eut terminé la tâche à portée de main, il put sentir l'odeur délicieuse et chaude du déjeuner Becca se préparait pour les deux. Il s'est alors rendu compte qu'il avait sauté le petit déjeuner dans la précipitation de se réveiller tard et dernière minute en faisant ses bagages, donc il était affamé. Il est retourné à la cuisine où Becca finissait sa cuisine. Il a respiré dans le merveilleux arôme et a donné à Becca un sourire rare, mais agréable. "Wow, j'avais presque oublié que tu étais un si bon cuisinier," dit-il, admirablement, et marchait derrière elle. Avec sa tête au-dessus de son épaule, il a vérifié pour voir ce qu'elle faisait. "Porque de filet... J'ai hâte de l'essayer." Sa voix était un peu plus douce et plus douce lorsqu'il parlait dans ses oreilles. Il s'est penché sur le chemin de Rebecca, ne voulant pas la déranger pendant qu'elle cuisinait et a pris place à la table à manger. Son estomac a commencé à gronder, mais il a fait de son mieux pour être patient. De temps en temps, il regardait Becca. Peut-être parce que son taux de sucre dans le sang était faible, mais elle avait l'air... plus forte que d'habitude. Elle était toujours jolie, mais il l'a toujours vue comme Becca, une fille avec qui il a été jumelé à cette stupide académie. Alors qu'elle n'était pas quelqu'un qu'il ne pouvait pas nu, il ne l'a jamais vraiment considérée comme son genre. Mais maintenant... Il s'est forcé à arrêter son train de pensées."Becca n'est que Becca", se disait-il silencieusement. S'il pensait le contraire, il pourrait commencer à développer des sentiments pour elle ou devenir tout bizarre et timide. Peut-être que ce ne serait pas mal s'il l'avait fait. Ils ont été appariés. C'était ce qu'on attendait d'eux. Devrait-il commencer à essayer ce truc de relation? Et s'il commence à s'occuper d'elle mais qu'elle lui brise le cœur? Il y a juste trop de risques. L'esprit de Max est allé-retour comme si c'était la balle de tennis dans un rallye apparemment sans fin. Plus ça a duré, plus il est devenu confus. Il espérait que le déjeuner serait servi le plus tôt possible ou bien qui sait ce qui pourrait lui arriver.

Niall Christianson “Happiness can be found even in the darkest times if one only remembers to turn on the light.” - Dumbledore, JK Rowling Age 20 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Straight/Can be romantic when he chooses to be School Year College 2nd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Working out, hunting with his pack, women Dislikes People he deems have no common sense, people that are weak, especially males, the color yellow, mustard yellow in particular Hobbies Hunting, working out, tracking Fears Being challenged when he becomes Alpha, not finding a match Personality Niall is very logical, even when he might not seem that way. He does everything for a very specific reason. He can be romantic when he wishes to be and can be quite charming at times. However his instincts do sway him a lot of the time, there is only so much control a wolf can have. He does his best not to let the wolf show when he's around other people, humans especially but he can be rather volatile as he doesn't have a mate. One thing to note, never run from him. Ever. Walk away if you must but never run. Niall can also be very possessive as most canids can tend to be. It isn't really ever advisable to touch anything that he considers to be his. This can be items, clothes, or even other individuals. Biography Niall was born into a relatively large pack, a 147 members at the time of his birth. Their numbers are slightly less now hovering around a 120 members or so give or take some floater wolves. Niall's father Keenan is the current reigning Alpha of the pack and has been for the last 70 years or so. Niall, of course, being the Alpha's son lived the good life. He was well protected and had everything he could possibly want. However, with the position comes responsibilities, like learning to fight your way out of mess and talk your way out of one too. One must be a warrior and a diplomat all at the same time. Niall wanted for nothing but spend the majority of his time training and learning from his father. As the oldest son Niall will take the throne when he is deemed ready and has completed the mating ceremony. This requirement is what brought him to Ivy Wood Academy. Non-Human Information Species Lycanthrope, Loup Garou Abilities Niall has a secondary form that is a canid-like creature with no current scientific classification. Weaknesses Niall has a mild allergy to silver, it gives him a rash and makes him itchy when it touches his skin. If pure silver were to get into his bloodstream it would kill him. Other than that only severing his spinal cord will kill him. Extras Niall, is the Alpha's oldest son. As such he is the heir and is expected the find a mate and take the position of Alpha when his father deems him ready.

Amanda JamesCressent Dorms Elle a écouté ce qu'a dit sa colocataire, en hurlant pour lui faire savoir qu'elle faisait attention à elle. "Je suis plus dans les chapitres et les romans." Elle a souri à elle-même. Jusqu'ici, les choses n'étaient pas si mauvaises. Il semblait que Magdaline était authentique. "Si tu voulais dire matière, j'aime vraiment écrire des choses de science-fiction et de fantaisie, avec un peu d'amour là-dedans de temps en temps." Un petit silence maladroit est tombé entre eux et alors qu'elle savait que la fille aînée était probablement en train de penser ou de se concentrer sur sa peinture, elle se sentait encore un peu comme elle l'a causé. Ce n'était pas comme si elle était aussi extravagante, mais quand elle était nerveuse, elle parlait beaucoup. Elle a mis les lumières de fées sur le côté et a continué à déballer pendant une minute ou 2. Quand Magdaline a répondu, elle a sauté un peu à sa voix et a pris une minute pour le traiter. "Bien sûr." Amanda est passée et l'a laissée au pied de l'autre lit. "C'est sur ton lit." Amanda est revenue à ses affaires et a continué à déballer. Elle se demandait où étaient ses draps.  Elle a fini son premier sac et est passée au deuxième. Ce sac contenait des bijoux et des accessoires qu'elle avait amenés comme de petits arcs à clips.  Amanda a pris ce temps pour vraiment penser à tout ce qui s'était passé au cours de la dernière année, comment elle a été acceptée ici, à ses parents disant oui à son déménagement ici. Elle s'était sentie tellement surréaliste.

Amanda James "I think that 'Weird' is great. It leads to new things and possibilities." Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/romantic School Year College First Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes ♡Cute things ♡Desserts ♡Being Herself Dislikes ♤Dark Chocolate ♤Bullies ♤Extremely narrow minded people ♤Avacados Hobbies ♢Writing ♢Doing DIY projects Fears •Giant Bugs •Being completely alone in the world. (In all aspects) Personality Amanda is a girl who definitely marches to the beat of her own drum. She loves cracking jokes and making stupid puns just because she likes putting smiles on people's faces. She is a girl who is generally happy and looks for the good in things. Though she isn't always so confident. There are times where she doesn't feel good enough to be with those around her and she hides away for a day or 2. Amanda is also a bit stubborn at times. Biography Amanda has led a normal life. She hasn't done anything over the top (at least by her standards) that would be considered different. She has had crushes and the occasional broken heart but usually has managed to bounce back from those seemingly untouched. Coming from a middle class family,  she managed to get a scholarship to Ivy Wood and continues to try and make her family proud, and maybe find a companion along the way.

Rebecca Callaghan Dormes d'éclipse Rebecca était revenue au fourneau quand Maxwell est montée derrière elle et a parlé. L'haleine soudaine sur son cou et l'oreille a envoyé un étrange picotement dans sa colonne vertébrale et elle a senti son visage devenir un peu chaud. Elle a ajusté ses lunettes et a dégagé sa gorge, secouant ses louanges. "Oh, je ne suis pas si bon cuisinier. Je ne fais que suivre les indications du livre." Elle a fait un geste au livre de cuisine ouvert posé sur le banc, et elle a pensé qu'elle pourrait paraître ingrate de ses paroles aimables, elle a rapidement suivi avec, "Oh, mais merci de le dire." Rebecca a éteint le poêle et a fait revenir le porc dans deux petites assiettes avant de marcher et de les placer sur la table, avec des fourchettes. Elle a ensuite enlevé son tablier avant de s'asseoir en face de Max. "Si ça ne vous dérange pas, je pourrais cuisiner comme ça pour vous tous les jours. Pour nous, je veux dire." Il lui semblait encore un peu irréel qu'elle vivrait avec ce garçon à partir de maintenant. Ils ont été jumelés pendant un moment, mais ça a toujours semblé être une chose superficielle. Maintenant, ça s'est senti tout à coup sérieux. Rebecca n'a pas pensé qu'elle était particulièrement jolie ou sortante, comme ces filles glamour qui semblaient toujours être au centre de l'attention. Elle se considérait bookâtre et simple, avec son petit corps, ses lunettes et ses cheveux bruns mousy faits en longues tresses jumelles. Elle se sentait moyenne à peu près dans tous les sens. Et maintenant elle était là, mangeant un repas avec son Match, le genre de beau garçon à qui elle parlait en général seulement dans les livres. La pensée la laissa se sentir timide, nerveuse, giddy, et embarrassée tout d'un coup. Avec un début, elle s'est rendue compte qu'elle le fixait et qu'elle regardait rapidement sa nourriture, s'affaiblissant avec sa fourchette au moment où elle commençait à manger.

Rebecca Callaghan "A book is a portal to a new life. One day I'm a child detective, and the next I'm a swashbuckling pirate. I just have to open a book and dive in." Age 16 years old Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual School Year 2nd year of High School Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Peace and quiet Books Warm sunny days Dislikes Loud crowds Rain People who disrespect literature Hobbies Reading Fears Heights Insects Personality Rebecca has always been a friendly if somewhat quiet person, rarely raising her voice. Despite her soft spoken demeanor, however she has strong beliefs about the value of literature and takes any disrespect towards books very badly. It is these moments that she does raise her voice and has been known to go off lengthy tirades at times. Biography Rebecca was born into a family of male athletes. He father was a track and field star and her three brothers shared his passion for sports, which left Rebecca as the odd duck of the family. She was the only girl and didn't feel much of any pull towards athletics. She didn't have any interest in sports, so her father didn't have any time for her. Fortunately Rebecca still had her mother. Rebecca's mother was an aspiring writer, and while she'd never managed to get anything published, she had an undying love of the written word and the fantastical worlds that could be created with them. She passed this love onto Rebecca and they would spend many nights reading together. When Rebecca's mother passed away from illness, Rebecca considered her love of books to be her mother's greatest gift to her.

Dortoir du Croissant-Magdaline Magdaline l'a écoutée et a hurlé après avoir pris les lumières "Nous avons quelque chose en commun, bien que j'aime Non-Fiction et Fiction plus, je fais des nouvelles sur le côté. Si vous avez besoin d'aide par ici, je peux vous aider, les premiers jours ne sont pas si mauvais, mais un peu d'aide pourrait aller loin" Elle lui sourit et retourna à la finition de son mur, ajoutant l'autre couche de peinture. Elle n'avait pas grand-chose à dire, et elle n'était particulièrement pas de bonne humeur, elle ne voulait pas que ça gâche quoi que ce soit, alors elle l'a sucée et a fait de son mieux pour qu'elle se sente chez elle. Peut-être qu'elle en avait marre d'être dans cette université sans aucune vie sociale, elle était étonnée de la façon dont elle a réussi à aller 3 ans sans une amie proche. Elle a regardé en arrière Amanda et a pensé qu'elle devrait apprendre à la connaître davantage. " Alors, avez-vous décidé de ce que vous seriez en train de faire? Avez-vous jeté un coup d'oeil autour du campus peut-être?" Elle voulait garder le silence court, garder la conversation en cours était difficile quand vous connaissez à peine la personne, mais elle essayait. " Si vous n'avez pas eu l'occasion de voir le campus, je serais ravi de vous en montrer quelques-uns, je devrais changer très rapidement. Et désolé si j'ai l'air un peu fade, je déteste vraiment ces parties quand je rencontre des gens, je jure que je suis beaucoup de plaisir" Elle soupirait et se tortillait un peu.

Laila Gray However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results. - Winston Churchill Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual/Not romantic but isn't against romantic things (Not aromantic) School Year 3rd high school year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes The ocean Reading Drawing Bike rides Bananas Rain All animals Dislikes Silence Hot weather Children Blood Hobbies Going for walks or runs Fears The dark Spiders Busy roads Personality Calm and collected, Laila is often noted for her ever-present laid back attitude and borderline sarcastic nature. She is approachable, the sort of person who you would entrust with your deepest and most guarded secrets. Although pessimistic she is always seen with a smirk on her face whatever situation making her seem rude.. or kind, depending on said situation. She isn't one to jump into a conversation for no reason and will only speak when she feels is needed or is spoken to which makes her come across as mysterious, but around people she trusts she is an open book. When she does speak for no reason it is usually under her breath and sarcastic or with humorous intention.. although no one hears it. Biography Laila was brought up in a small countryside commuters village in Dorset near the coast. Both her parents worked in London and were always too busy to look after her, and so the nanny was more of a parent than both her mother and father have ever been. Growing up in an area with a population of about 400 people was pretty easy and relaxing for Laila, she never felt as if anything was missing and honestly didn't care for romantic relationships. However her parents thought otherwise, they started to notice that she was less sociable than the other teenagers in the village and believed she was lonely, when the headteacher of her school mentioned Ivy Wood Academy they jumped at the chance and sent her there without a second thought. Of course she was completely against the idea. The only person she loved was her nanny, the woman who had been looking after her and caring for her for 16 years, she saw her as a mother figure but the nanny quit after a dispute with Laila's real mother which broke Laila's heart and made her turn against her birth mother. Laila assumes that she was sent to this academy so that her parents don't have to look after her and the whole 'match' idea is just a cover up excuse.

Croix de Kali Gymnasium Kali s'est concentrée sur la cible devant elle. Respirez, expirez. Du calme. Sweat l'a renversée dans le dos, son tanktop s'est accroché à son corps. Puis, en un éclair, la jambe droite de Kali s'est écrasée sur le sac de frappe devant elle. Le sac s'est enroulé à gauche avant de se retourner contre elle. Double poinçon, pause pour que le sac revienne. Coup de pied avant gauche, pause. Un coup de pied de croissant, une pause. Puis dans un dernier effort, Kali round a donné un coup de pied au sac en l'envoyant voler presque au plafond. Panting, Kali a largué sa forme et a pris le sac alors qu'il volait vers elle. Kali a pris une bouteille d'eau et s'est assis sur un banc voisin. Elle a pris un long verre de la bouteille d'eau et a regardé le sac de frappe. Un soupir a échappé à ses lèvres. Les sacs de frappe étaient trop prévisibles, vous saviez quand ils vous atteindraient. C'est une telle déception. Kali préférait spar avec les autres. Ça lui a donné une poussée d'adrénaline comme personne d'autre. Le rythme rapide, la perception des mouvements de votre adversaire, les coups que vous atterrissez, et même les coups que vos terres adverses ont tous rendu palpitant. Malheureusement, Kali ne connaissait personne qui partageait son hobby. Par conséquent, elle ne pouvait pratiquer que des techniques et des exercices mentaux. Kali a essuyé la sueur qui roulait sur son front. Buzz, buzz. Kali a sauté un peu quand son téléphone a vibré. Vite, elle s'est essuyée les mains sur une serviette et a pris son téléphone. Une fois qu'elle l'a déverrouillé, une notification est apparue. Vous avez un message non lu de Dean Kali s'est tapé les lèvres. Dean était son correspondant. C'était un gars cool, mais il avait du mal à rester engagé. Donc, après un réveil grossier à cela, ils ont tous deux décidé qu'il était préférable d'avoir une relation plus ouverte. Dean était un grand ami, en fait c'était l'un des meilleurs amis de Kali. Ils sont allés à des fêtes et ils sont restés un peu ensemble. De temps en temps, ils faisaient quelque chose de romantique, se rendaient à un rendez-vous ou quelque chose de similaire. Elle était d'accord avec Dean flirter, frapper, ou même aller à des rendez-vous avec d'autres personnes. Ou au moins, elle a essayé. C'était un peu difficile pour elle de le laisser faire ce qu'il voulait, mais c'était pour le mieux, alors elle a décidé qu'elle allait endurer. Kali a cliqué sur la notification, ce qui l'a conduite à son nouveau message.

Angelica "Ann" Byrd “In these times I don't, in a manner of speaking, know what I want; perhaps I don't want what I know and want what I don't know.” Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual School Year 2nd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Fall Green fruit comics Dislikes Pressure (both of the pyhysical and emotional kind) Cottage Cheese sleepless nights Hobbies Cooking Fears She has a fear of the future and where her place in will be in it. Like if she will do something big or at least meaningful, or if she'll just dissapear with the rest of history that was to mudane to remember. Personality Ann is a pretty easy person to get along with, able to start up a conversation up with just about anyone. She's also very honest with people, though she's been told that she dosn't really have any tact. Living in the moment and having fun is important to her and she easily stresses about grades, important things that need to be done, and things like that if she spends to long thinking about them. She also can't seem to really hold a grudge or stay angry for long, and even when she is angry she's not to hot tempered. Overall she's just not a serious person. Biography Ann was born to a photographer (her mom) and a history teacher (her father). Growing up she heard amazing stories of the trips her parents took after they graduated and Ann started to have dream big dreams for herself. But as she grew up her dreams started to fade away as she realized that even after her parent's amazing adventures, they had just settled down and lead ordinary lifes. Ann soon started to think that that was her fate as well, and she was unsure of how to change it. Her parents, seeing their daughter like this, decided to have her enroll into Ivy Wood Academy. After all, it was were they met and their lifes changed. While Ann was excited to be going to a new school she wasn't sure if this was the right choice for her, not acedemic wise. It was the match making part that worried her. On one hand, it would feel good to not have to worry about finding the person for her. On the other hand, Ann wasn't sure if she would feel satisfied that she hadn't put in the effort herself to find her match. But Ann wasn't about to let her mixed feelings get in the way of enjoying the adventure of a new school so she packed her bags and set out for Ivy Wood Academy.

Isabella Stern Dortoir du Croissant La jeune femme était allongée sur le grand lit au centre de la chambre, son horloge clignotant sur la table de chevet bien qu'elle était couchée dans la chemise de nuit blanche avec ses bras au-dessus de sa tête tandis qu'elle clignait lentement le sommeil de ses yeux. Un chat se purifia contre son côté, encore profondément dans le sommeil bien que l'autre n'était pas dans la chambre comme ils étaient normalement le matin, la réveillant avec leurs maigres faims. C'était différent, mais c'est arrivé si souvent que les nuits où elle ne dormait pas bien, elle avait tendance à rouler sur eux ou à les virer du lit - Virgil n'est pas revenu quand il a été jeté. Eliza est presque toujours revenue la câliner, puisqu'elle était la plus empathique des deux chats qu'elle gardait ici dans son dortoir. Doux yeux gris regardaient le plafond tandis que la jeune fille se rappelait lentement où elle était, réalisant que c'était la pièce dans laquelle elle vivait à nouveau seule et non le rêve qu'elle avait été coincée en elle les heures infinies de son sommeil profond et agité. Elle se sentait comme si elle n'avait pas dormi du tout, mais se levait néanmoins pour se préparer à la journée qui l'attendait. En roulant hors du lit, la jeune femme se tenait debout et s'étirait, l'ourlet de la robe blanche de nuit brossant le haut de ses cuisses avant qu'elle ne dépose les bras et erre dans la salle de bain où elle s'est douchée et a enveloppé la serviette autour de son torse pour revenir à la chambre où sa robe était accrochée à sa vanité. Il était assez tôt le matin - seulement sept heures - quand elle était sortie de la douche et a déménagé pour s'habiller; les cours à partir de 9 heures pour sa première année d'expérience universitaire. Elle n'était ici que depuis un an, ayant déménagé au pays et transféré dans sa dernière année de lycée; elle se souvenait avoir rencontré Blake dans un quartier calme derrière l'école, en lisant un livre où elle était allée pratiquer son alto pendant une heure environ. C'était son seul ami vraiment, puisqu'elle interagissait à peine avec quelqu'un d'autre - les autres filles avaient tendance à l'éviter à cause de la façon dont elle s'habillait aussi. Il était une heure avant que la jeune femme soit habillée et prête à l'école, ayant mangé et emballé toutes ses affaires avant d'attacher les lacets de ses bottes sous la jupe de sa robe avec son sacoche sur son épaule et alto cas à la main. Prêt pour ses cours comme toujours, sa rencontre avec Blake et leurs conversations silencieuses comme les deux passeraient leur temps à lire ou à faire des devoirs sans vraiment se parler les uns aux autres. Ce qu'elle ne s'attendait pas, bien sûr, c'était que Virgil parte de la pièce dès qu'elle a ouvert la porte de sa chambre et a couru dans le couloir. La porte de l'escalier était fermée et l'ascenseur était éteint ce matin, de sorte qu'il n'allait pas loin; elle soupirait, allant marcher dans le hall pour l'obtenir après avoir posé ses affaires dans sa chambre quand la porte de l'escalier et l'une des jeunes filles marchaient à travers. Virgil a glissé à travers la porte ouverte. Isabella s'en alla courir, après le chat, même si elle portait sa tenue gothique victorienne habituelle et une paire de bottes qui n'étaient jamais destinées à courir.

Isabella Stern Be it thy nature, or nurture, ones own choice, or the wrong path taken; one will find themself face to face with death. Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/Demi-romantic School Year Collage 1st year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Poetry Warm beverages Cats Black Novels Dislikes Loud noises Surprises Disruptions Hobbies Novelist & Poet Isabella spends a great deal of her free time writing both novels and poetry, often dedicating hours to editing her stories and going to various poetry readings Fears Above all else, Isabella fears being rejected by the ones she loves most and being unnoticed by the objects of her affection. She is careful to avoid such contact and people she would easily get along with simply for this reason, though she is afraid to remain alone just as much as she fears rejection. Personality At her base, Isabella is a quiet girl who enjoys the company of few but resents that of many. She is calm and level headed, rational and yet at times her judgement is clouded by her feelings like any other. She craves companion ship, but often pushes others away without a second thought to preserve her own state of being for she has seen many a girl ruined by love. She is selfless when it comes to helping those she does not have a personal connection with though when she becomes attached to someone she becomes incredibly selfish though that selfishness is masked by a selfless wish for them to be happy. A compassionate and poetic individual she may almost always speak in phrases that resemble a poem of sorts, and hold that which she refuses to speak for herself. Biography A child runs, plays in the sand, Dances and twirls as new moon spans But hence we must give sweet goodbye To the innocent child that we once were. Sadness and doubt could her eyes, Fear and love pine her mind Looking for sweetness in a world of dread As victims pile on her mans hands. Love and betrayal go hand in hand For once we were young, Without knowledge of danger With love and kindness we all seek, Before life turned grey and we died inside. Hands touch where they should not, Rough and calloused; Ropes that bind, Tie and scar, we cannot hide From our grave mistakes. We trusted, Loved and spoke together; Shared and played; We thought we were safe. When he came for us It was our mistake, For trusting and loving Beyond their faith. We were young once, When we tempted fate, Love and lost For our mistake. Extras Bate of Birth December 29th, 20XX Pets She is in possession of two cats, a black one and a white one that she has special permission to keep in her dorm room since she is lacking a dorm mate. Damian Luv We all face them; the discrimination and the hate; Some more than others Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Homosexual/Homo-romantic School Year High School - 3rd Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Older men Cute things Coffee Supernatural; especially Cas Mythology Dislikes Pushy women and men Carrots Tobacco Boredom Hobbies Fashion/Room Design Fears Being alone in the dark; due to past experiences in the dark Personality Humble || Easily Embarrassed || Nerdy || Relaxed || Chill Regardless of how easy it is to make this soft spoken, gentle hearted boy blush it is nearly impossible to anger him enough for him to show it; especially if he doesn't care for the one attempting to anger him. Understanding and a great listener he's a compatible friend for nearly anyone in existence - he's even pretended to be a friends boyfriend to get her out of a sticky situation. On the other hand when he cares for someone they could easily upset him though he's rarely pushed to tears like many would expect of the usually very passionate homosexual. Biography The young man reached behind him to catch onto the nightstand beside his bed, looking for the switch to the lamp he kept there in case of his late night cravings to read or simply need a light on for a time. He found the cool metal stem and his eyes closed in preparation for the light but all he could feel then was heat; all he could smell was sweat, sex and alcohol; he could hear the heavy breathing and the grunts. He did not turn, he did not cower from these memories, instead he stayed still, allowing them to pass before he curled up once again in the dark and allowed himself a fitful rest before the morning light. James Sebastian Miles Lean on me and everything will be alright; I'll always be here Age 23 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual School Year College Third Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Milk Sports Hanging out with friends Nighttime walk Taking pictures Having fun Cookies Dislikes Being alone Thinking too much about the past Being around his ex-fiance Oranges and Orange cake Hobbies Photography James has always had a knack for taking pictures, and more often than not he can be found with his face behind a camera taking pictures or filming. He has an eyes for motions, for capturing emotions in his images. Fears At his very core, James is afraid to fall in love again; regardless of how well a persona he has created and how much confidence he outwardly shows to others, he is afraid of the basic human emotion; he is afraid of love. Fore he has learned that where there is love, there is an endless stream of pain and betrayal, of tears and gaping wounds no one can see. Scars that never heal. Personality Loving, Devoted and Strong. James often does all he can for those he cares about, giving up even the important things to rush to his loved ones side without a second thought to what it was he had been doing before. His own concerns always come after those around him and he often finds himself taking one of his friends out for a night on the town, or staying in and watching movies with them. In some cases he brings over pizza and chocolate when his female friends end up broken hearted. For most everyone he is a rock for them to lean on when they're down, someone they can depend on to be there when they need him most and yet he never seems to need their help, when offered or even insisted upon. Passive, Accepting and Determined. Not one to start an argument with someone else, James will sit back and listen calmly to another before carefully phrasing his own opinions and conclusions after hearing everything that they have to be said. He doesn't threaten others and more often then not doesn't get upset over things as easily as the people around him. Nothing escapes his notice when it comes to the people he chooses to speak to, their urge to accepted if they're an outsider especially so and he always greets someone - new or old - with open arms and a friendly smile to say that they're accepted and welcome with him. Of course when there is something he puts his mind to he has a very bad - or good , depending how you look at it - habit of doing everything in his power to accomplish it; be it finding something good to eat or saving a girl from a man on the street. He will do all in his power to achieve his goals. Seeing him give up is a very rare sign and often one of heartbreak and sadness. Passionate, Protective and Empathetic No matter what James does he always finds something to love about it, something to get excited for, something to give it a point for him, even if it is silly. Very passionate about his hobbies and interests he always tries to find a way to spread that love of an activity or object, no matter how silly it may seem to others. He's not afraid to shown that he loves something or someone, his heart on his sleeve and yet still protected now. When he loves something or someone he will try his best to make them happy, to smile with them and laugh, to protect them from everything that he can so they won't have to turn anymore; even from his own pain he protects them. In the case that someone he cares for his threatened, the not usually violent man, will willingly fight to protect them, putting himself in harms way to see that they don't fall under the wrath of someone else and instead takes that burden for himself, along with any others he can find. He never shows any signs of carrying too much on his shoulders, no cracks o leaks in his smiles, no tears unless it's a sad movie, nothing but that smiling rock that everyone so needs in their life. Emotions on the other hand are an easy thing for him to understand, the hidden tears behind the smiles that he knows, he understands very well. The way that someone will avoid the subject to avoid the pain and any other thing that could show a subtext that even they themselves may not realize are giving off. Careful, Guarded and Depressed. Some people change behind closed doors, when they're alone they find things so much easier than being with others and having to smile. Jame genuinely loves to be around people, to smile and laugh with friends but he still harbors that inner loneliness that comes with great loss to himself. When with others he is careful not to let on toward his own inner struggles as he moves only to help others and see the smiling faces of the people around him. Seeing love makes him happy, but yet it hurts him more than anything else because he knows that he won't have that again. Biography The screeching started again; the battle of two voices rising higher and higher, a seemingly endless contest of will, mockery and anger lacing the two voices that the small boy could hear from his bedroom. Dark hair disheveled from his desperate flight from the living room at the appearance of the second person, a man he was supposed to recognize as his father, his feet pounding on the stairs. He tripped, twisting his ankle in his haste but he ignored it until he was save under the covers of his bed, trying to be as quiet as possible and ignore the sounds coming from downstairs. It was so loud and so scary. It didn't happen much and they always told him it was fine afterward, that they were happy and that nothing was ever wrong but he didn't really believe them. How could he believe them when he came home to it? Years later he boy was a young man in high school, sitting alone in his room with music blasting in his ears. If asked he would say he's gotten used to the yelling and the fights that take place downstairs, detached himself from the situation and perfectly ready to leave when he gets the chance. Hood pulled up and covering his face he lifted his backpack and walked out the door passed the two, silent and obviously fighting again people. They thought he didn't know. The sounds of the students in the halls was lost on him as he weaved his way through, music blasting in his ears as he ignored everyone, eyes downcast and invisible in the crowds. Sophomores found their way o classes but just as he walked passed the room his hood and headphones were yanked off as he lacked the care to pay attention. He was invisible so he wouldn't have expected it either but when he lifted his eyes off the ground he saw a girl standing in front of him with her headphones in her hand; his music still playing clearly. "What do you want?" He asked her, none to kindly and then she smiled. It was so hard to ignore. She was the only person to find him every morning, to take him to class and make sure he went. The only person to smile at him endlessly until he smiled back. The only person he spoke to about anything that went on at home. She was the only person he could ever love. And she broke his heart. On the bridge of twenty, he was just counting down the days before the two of them would get married, all of her family and their friends there to see them happy. To see that he could smile as much as he still did. But that was the day he caught her cheating on him, saying that she never loved him in the first place. He was just a charity case for her. That was the end of the beginning. Extras James was born February 29th He is attending the school on a scholarship offered to him because of his grades, he cares not for the match program but for the education the facility can provide him with. Theme Song = Under and Over by Egypt Central

Liam Hanway Comète Dorm Liam ne pouvait pas croire sa chance, ou peut-être le manque de. Il était soit sur le point d'obtenir son propre dortoir pendant un certain temps, soit il devait apprendre à vivre avec quelqu'un de nouveau. Max et son match, Rebecca, avaient décidé qu'il était temps d'emménager ensemble. Ou vraiment, d'après comment Max l'a expliqué, elle l'avait finalement convaincu, ou forcé, d'emménager avec elle. Il ne pouvait pas blâmer sa colocataire, elle semblait être une fille gentille et il n'était pas susceptible de s'en sortir pour essayer de tirer le meilleur parti de tout. "Ne veux pas dire que je ne manquerai pas de t'avoir ici. Je m'y habituais." Il soulève ses sourcils à la boîte et regarde devant ses yeux s'élargir. "T'es sûr?" il demande, ne croyant pas que Max était prêt à le laisser avec lui et ne pas le prendre avec. Peut-être que Liam était juste plus intéressé que Max l'avait été. C'était probablement facile à lire sur son visage. "Merci, Max. A bientôt, bonne chance pour vivre avec Rebecca." Il le regarde partir avant de tomber sur son lit. Il n'était pas intéressé à être social, mais il venait de perdre un de ses meilleurs amis et il avait probablement besoin de trouver au moins une personne avec qui traîner parfois dans la vraie vie. Il saisit son téléphone pour vérifier toutes ses activités de réseautage social, y compris le site sur lequel il se trouve habituellement avant de sortir de la porte. Il doit rencontrer quelqu'un dans son dortoir, il doit y avoir un mec sympa avec qui être ami. Il n'essayait même pas de le frapper... au début. Il se sent un peu maladroit à flirter avec des gens qu'il n'est pas sûr d'être en fait avec d'autres gars. Tout le monde semble se glisser dans leur chambre rapidement, alors il erre dans les couloirs pour l'instant. Dean Eaton Comète Dorm Dean a fait ses bagages dans sa chambre, les a déposés sur l'un des lits et s'est rendu compte que son colocataire n'était pas encore arrivé. Ils se cachaient ensemble depuis un moment, mais il n'était pas sûr qu'il perde son colocataire à cause d'une correspondance rapide. Pas de sa part -Kali et lui avaient déjà compris leur accord- mais qui savait quand Jack emménagerait avec son match. Il déballait la plupart de ses affaires et envisageait ce qu'il y avait à faire avant de sortir son téléphone. Bonjour, Kali. Je viens d'entrer et mes colocataires ne sont pas là. Qu'est-ce que tu mijotes? Tu veux aller prendre à manger? Ils ont trouvé un bon accord à Dean, il ne voulait pas être ligoté et il aimait vraiment Kali en tant que meilleur ami. C'était une fille géniale et parfois il se sentait un peu mal qu'elle ait été jumelée avec lui, elle aurait pu avoir un meilleur gars avec qui s'installer. Mais il se rappelle que ces choses ne doivent pas être permanentes quand il commence à penser comme ça. Elle doit être d'accord avec la situation aussi. Il fonctionne étonnant pour les fêtes ou tout ce qu'il a besoin d'un rendez-vous pour, parfois y compris les fonctions familiales.

Liam Hanway “One of the greatest regrets in life is being what others would want you to be, rather than being yourself.” ― Shannon L. Alder Age 16 Sexual/Romantic Preference Homosexual School Year 2nd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match (This can change if more pro or anti's are needed) Likes -Sports -Books -Coloring (like books and attempting to draw) -Math -Soft things Dislikes -Being proven wrong -Being put on the spot -Exercising Hobbies -Reading -Writing -Sports -Rping/meeting people online Fears -Spiders, snakes, bugs of any kind -Heights -Public Speaking Personality From the outside Liam would seem to fit perfectly in to the athletic, popular crowd. He may not actually be popular, but he's always been well liked by everyone around him. It's all about fading in to the group, not causing waves and being the quite one that everyone knows and likes. He tries to keep that show up on the outside, but he truly would prefer to just sit in his room on his computer. Life is usually all about keeping up appearances and he can't have people knowing he truly would rather meet people online. It's much easier to talk to his friends on there because he never has to worry about feeling awkward. With people in real life he has to worry about everything he says and if they will find it rude or silly. He's always been worried about what people will think of the true him, so he's fit himself in to the life he thought would get him the farthest and he's grown in that role. He's gotten much better at talking to people, more outgoing with meeting new potential friends, but it's all usually an act and he's wondering when he can get back to his room and in to his bed. Biography Liam's had a rather simple life, he's lived with his mother, stepfather, and older sister. He hardly remembers his father and considers his stepdad to be more of a father then his real dad ever has been. He's sister, Rachel, had actually gone through getting matched before him and she just loves it, which has definitely made it all easier for Liam. He hadn't liked the idea of being told who his soulmate was before Rachel came home talking about how much she loved it. His mother thought it was the greatest thing after the oldest child went through and she pushed Liam in to going, not that he could truly say no to her. Of course his family has their fights, and they can get very heated, but he thinks he was really blessed getting the family he did. Life could have been much harder for him. Extras Liam truly just wants to be taken care of, especially when he's sick. He hates feeling needy, but he will feel like he needs to be around good friends sometimes. It makes him feel clingy and annoying to try and hang out with friends after he may have pushed them away for a few days.

En dehors du dortoir du Croissant Le soleil s'éteignit, sa patte chaude se sentait bien sur la peau de William, et il étendit les portes en fer du Dortoir de la Comète avec un sac plongeant dangereusement au-dessus de son épaule, les pieds escamotés frappant le trottoir en une marche rapide et régulière. La marche de William était délibérée, mais il serait daigné si ce n'était pas une autre marche sans but à la bibliothèque. Il a hissé la sangle de son sac à une position plus confortable sur son épaule, entendant ses livres et la papeterie jostle pour l'espace dans leurs limites en tissu. Idly, son esprit errait à la lettre qu'il n'avait reçue que la veille, chaque segment compartimenté par l'écriture et la diction distinctes de sa famille. Sa sœur avait été pleine de la précocité et de la légère ignorance d'un enfant encore jeune, le souvenir de sa mère d'un visage fatigué mais souriant alors que les mains douces se déplaçaient sur une page pour scribe des préoccupations pour son bien-être et des avertissements doux pour bien manger; il avait l'air si mince ces derniers temps. Son père avait manqué de confiance que William ramènerait des notes admirables pour sa famille à ooh et ahhh. Leur fierté et leur joie imaginées auraient été suffisamment motivées pour que William mette quelques heures de révision, mais la perspective des scores probablement inférieurs aux normes et d'une fiche de rendement douteuse n'était qu'un autre aiguillon aiguisé de son côté. Il est passé par le dortoir du Croissant, mais n'a pas pensé à l'épargner plus qu'un coup d'oeil. C'était un bâtiment de bloc, et William n'avait jamais mis les pieds dedans avant. Sa présence imposante sur le terrain, l'auberge à la démographie féminine de l'école, ne méritait presque jamais beaucoup d'attention. Mais William s'est pris à faire une double prise tout comme il était sur le point de passer le vide dans les murs, ses oreilles se penchant sur les bruits de pieds de course. Il a regardé autour des briques cimentées, seulement pour voir une fille dans une robe noire de dentelle qui saute après un chat fléchissant. Il regardait, pris entre le muselement et l'amusement, comme la fille gardait la poursuite chaude. Le chat - comme s'il était accablé par l'ouverture visible - fait immédiatement pour la porte, où William a été caché. Sans une seconde pensée, il s'est abaissé à genoux, à la respiration lente et même, comme s'il était en chasse. Le chat sauta dans les bras de la liberté, seulement pour être scooped vers le haut à la fois, et bercé soigneusement contre la poitrine de William, grondant de chortles. Il s'est tenu, toujours ricanant, comme il s'est révélé de derrière le mur. Ses cheveux fatigués - maintenant plus agités par le vent que d'habitude - tombaient dans ses yeux, et il jeta les brins lâches loin de son visage. Se tenant debout et regardant la fille, William donna un sourire non abasourdi et fit un pas vers elle. "Vous avez un homme aventureux, n'est-ce pas?" Il demanda, se demandant curieusement qui était cette fille.

Name: Imogen Carlisle Quote “You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching, Love like you'll never be hurt, Sing like there's nobody listening, And live like it's heaven on earth.” ― William W. Purkey Age 17 Gender Female from birth Sexual/Romantic Preference Straight (is that what you mean) School Year High school: 3rd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Colour likes Lime green Blue Red Colour Dislikes Pink Orange Brown Fears Drowning Being lonely for the rest of her life Personality Imogen in kind, loving, compassionate, trustworthy and overprotective. The only time she gets angry and aggressive is if you do something towards some one she cares about. She may seem happy on the outside but if you delve deep into her eyes you can see she is not. She is lonely and out for love. She doesn't seem to care for herself only others. She loves to draw and play the piano. She has a bad memory so she often forgets things if you don't remind her. She hates to fight people, so she has no fighting skills. Biography She parents died in a car crash when she was 8 and she has been living with her aunt for the rest of the years, with her 6 sisters and her one brother. She is the 7th daughter of the 7th daughter. In her earlier years she didn't understand why everyone else had a mother and father to go to there things but she only had an aunt. She found it hard to concentrate in school, because her head kept on flashing back to the day when the cop came to the door and told them the news. Her favourite subjects had always been English and art. Extras She can turn into any animal other then a lion, tiger or bear, OH MY! Species Shapeshifter Abilities Telepathy Fire manipulation shapeshifting Weaknesses Can sometimes reads someones mind when she doesn't want too Sometimes when shes angry things can catch fire

Jack Thomas Gymnase Jack regarda autour de la salle de gym comme une sueur qui coulait sur son visage. Il était de mauvaise humeur pour une raison quelconque. Il n'était pas en colère contre Damien mais il n'était pas vraiment heureux. Il pouvait dire qu'il y avait quelque chose que Damien se cachait de lui et qu'il ne pouvait pas dire ce que c'était et que cela le dérangeait. Il a donc décidé d'éliminer la colère dans son cœur en battant sur un sac de frappe. Bien sûr qu'il en avait un à la maison, mais il préférait toujours la salle de gym puisqu'il pouvait être seul. Il avait enlevé sa chemise pour être un peu plus rapide. Après quelques minutes de plus de coups de poing et d'esquive, il s'est soudainement arrêté. Il a retiré ses gants et a rapidement envoyé un texto à Damien. Bonjour. Retrouve-moi au Gym. Je pense qu'on doit parler à Dami. Il m'a dit de l'envoyer sur le texto. Il est ensuite retourné travailler à battre sur le sac de frappe alors qu'il attendait son match pour se montrer. Il allait attendre pour retourner à son dortoir. Il voulait d'abord parler à Damien. Caleb Nash Comète Dorm Caleb s'est réveillé comme s'il était mort depuis des jours. Il a passé une longue nuit comme M. Nash hier soir et avait travaillé assez dur ces derniers jours. Il avait été à la recherche d'un fantôme dans une ville voisine qui avait été assez violent au sujet de son cimetière étant dépouillé par les agriculteurs locaux. Il avait tué deux personnes essayaient de posséder un garçon local quand Cal avait finalement tué la créature avec un coup de feu bien placé. Il a ensuite utilisé ses pouvoirs pour piéger la chose dans sa tombe où elle ne pouvait blesser personne à nouveau. Ça lui avait pris beaucoup de temps pour qu'il dorme presque toute la journée. Quand il s'est réveillé, il a regardé autour du dortoir et a saisi son livre. Il avait beaucoup de travail à faire et cela nécessitait de la magie et beaucoup de cela. Il avait l'impression que quelque chose de méchant venait par ici. Il avait un très mauvais pressentiment et ça n'a jamais été bon.

Isabella Stern Be it thy nature, or nurture, ones own choice, or the wrong path taken; one will find themself face to face with death. Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/Demi-romantic School Year Collage 1st year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Poetry Warm beverages Cats Black Novels Dislikes Loud noises Surprises Disruptions Hobbies Novelist & Poet Isabella spends a great deal of her free time writing both novels and poetry, often dedicating hours to editing her stories and going to various poetry readings Fears Above all else, Isabella fears being rejected by the ones she loves most and being unnoticed by the objects of her affection. She is careful to avoid such contact and people she would easily get along with simply for this reason, though she is afraid to remain alone just as much as she fears rejection. Personality At her base, Isabella is a quiet girl who enjoys the company of few but resents that of many. She is calm and level headed, rational and yet at times her judgement is clouded by her feelings like any other. She craves companion ship, but often pushes others away without a second thought to preserve her own state of being for she has seen many a girl ruined by love. She is selfless when it comes to helping those she does not have a personal connection with though when she becomes attached to someone she becomes incredibly selfish though that selfishness is masked by a selfless wish for them to be happy. A compassionate and poetic individual she may almost always speak in phrases that resemble a poem of sorts, and hold that which she refuses to speak for herself. Biography A child runs, plays in the sand, Dances and twirls as new moon spans But hence we must give sweet goodbye To the innocent child that we once were. Sadness and doubt could her eyes, Fear and love pine her mind Looking for sweetness in a world of dread As victims pile on her mans hands. Love and betrayal go hand in hand For once we were young, Without knowledge of danger With love and kindness we all seek, Before life turned grey and we died inside. Hands touch where they should not, Rough and calloused; Ropes that bind, Tie and scar, we cannot hide From our grave mistakes. We trusted, Loved and spoke together; Shared and played; We thought we were safe. When he came for us It was our mistake, For trusting and loving Beyond their faith. We were young once, When we tempted fate, Love and lost For our mistake. Extras Bate of Birth December 29th, 20XX Pets She is in possession of two cats, a black one and a white one that she has special permission to keep in her dorm room since she is lacking a dorm mate. Damian Luv We all face them; the discrimination and the hate; Some more than others Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Homosexual/Homo-romantic School Year High School - 3rd Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Older men Cute things Coffee Supernatural; especially Cas Mythology Dislikes Pushy women and men Carrots Tobacco Boredom Hobbies Fashion/Room Design Fears Being alone in the dark; due to past experiences in the dark Personality Humble || Easily Embarrassed || Nerdy || Relaxed || Chill Regardless of how easy it is to make this soft spoken, gentle hearted boy blush it is nearly impossible to anger him enough for him to show it; especially if he doesn't care for the one attempting to anger him. Understanding and a great listener he's a compatible friend for nearly anyone in existence - he's even pretended to be a friends boyfriend to get her out of a sticky situation. On the other hand when he cares for someone they could easily upset him though he's rarely pushed to tears like many would expect of the usually very passionate homosexual. Biography The young man reached behind him to catch onto the nightstand beside his bed, looking for the switch to the lamp he kept there in case of his late night cravings to read or simply need a light on for a time. He found the cool metal stem and his eyes closed in preparation for the light but all he could feel then was heat; all he could smell was sweat, sex and alcohol; he could hear the heavy breathing and the grunts. He did not turn, he did not cower from these memories, instead he stayed still, allowing them to pass before he curled up once again in the dark and allowed himself a fitful rest before the morning light. James Sebastian Miles Lean on me and everything will be alright; I'll always be here Age 23 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual School Year College Third Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Milk Sports Hanging out with friends Nighttime walk Taking pictures Having fun Cookies Dislikes Being alone Thinking too much about the past Being around his ex-fiance Oranges and Orange cake Hobbies Photography James has always had a knack for taking pictures, and more often than not he can be found with his face behind a camera taking pictures or filming. He has an eyes for motions, for capturing emotions in his images. Fears At his very core, James is afraid to fall in love again; regardless of how well a persona he has created and how much confidence he outwardly shows to others, he is afraid of the basic human emotion; he is afraid of love. Fore he has learned that where there is love, there is an endless stream of pain and betrayal, of tears and gaping wounds no one can see. Scars that never heal. Personality Loving, Devoted and Strong. James often does all he can for those he cares about, giving up even the important things to rush to his loved ones side without a second thought to what it was he had been doing before. His own concerns always come after those around him and he often finds himself taking one of his friends out for a night on the town, or staying in and watching movies with them. In some cases he brings over pizza and chocolate when his female friends end up broken hearted. For most everyone he is a rock for them to lean on when they're down, someone they can depend on to be there when they need him most and yet he never seems to need their help, when offered or even insisted upon. Passive, Accepting and Determined. Not one to start an argument with someone else, James will sit back and listen calmly to another before carefully phrasing his own opinions and conclusions after hearing everything that they have to be said. He doesn't threaten others and more often then not doesn't get upset over things as easily as the people around him. Nothing escapes his notice when it comes to the people he chooses to speak to, their urge to accepted if they're an outsider especially so and he always greets someone - new or old - with open arms and a friendly smile to say that they're accepted and welcome with him. Of course when there is something he puts his mind to he has a very bad - or good , depending how you look at it - habit of doing everything in his power to accomplish it; be it finding something good to eat or saving a girl from a man on the street. He will do all in his power to achieve his goals. Seeing him give up is a very rare sign and often one of heartbreak and sadness. Passionate, Protective and Empathetic No matter what James does he always finds something to love about it, something to get excited for, something to give it a point for him, even if it is silly. Very passionate about his hobbies and interests he always tries to find a way to spread that love of an activity or object, no matter how silly it may seem to others. He's not afraid to shown that he loves something or someone, his heart on his sleeve and yet still protected now. When he loves something or someone he will try his best to make them happy, to smile with them and laugh, to protect them from everything that he can so they won't have to turn anymore; even from his own pain he protects them. In the case that someone he cares for his threatened, the not usually violent man, will willingly fight to protect them, putting himself in harms way to see that they don't fall under the wrath of someone else and instead takes that burden for himself, along with any others he can find. He never shows any signs of carrying too much on his shoulders, no cracks o leaks in his smiles, no tears unless it's a sad movie, nothing but that smiling rock that everyone so needs in their life. Emotions on the other hand are an easy thing for him to understand, the hidden tears behind the smiles that he knows, he understands very well. The way that someone will avoid the subject to avoid the pain and any other thing that could show a subtext that even they themselves may not realize are giving off. Careful, Guarded and Depressed. Some people change behind closed doors, when they're alone they find things so much easier than being with others and having to smile. Jame genuinely loves to be around people, to smile and laugh with friends but he still harbors that inner loneliness that comes with great loss to himself. When with others he is careful not to let on toward his own inner struggles as he moves only to help others and see the smiling faces of the people around him. Seeing love makes him happy, but yet it hurts him more than anything else because he knows that he won't have that again. Biography The screeching started again; the battle of two voices rising higher and higher, a seemingly endless contest of will, mockery and anger lacing the two voices that the small boy could hear from his bedroom. Dark hair disheveled from his desperate flight from the living room at the appearance of the second person, a man he was supposed to recognize as his father, his feet pounding on the stairs. He tripped, twisting his ankle in his haste but he ignored it until he was save under the covers of his bed, trying to be as quiet as possible and ignore the sounds coming from downstairs. It was so loud and so scary. It didn't happen much and they always told him it was fine afterward, that they were happy and that nothing was ever wrong but he didn't really believe them. How could he believe them when he came home to it? Years later he boy was a young man in high school, sitting alone in his room with music blasting in his ears. If asked he would say he's gotten used to the yelling and the fights that take place downstairs, detached himself from the situation and perfectly ready to leave when he gets the chance. Hood pulled up and covering his face he lifted his backpack and walked out the door passed the two, silent and obviously fighting again people. They thought he didn't know. The sounds of the students in the halls was lost on him as he weaved his way through, music blasting in his ears as he ignored everyone, eyes downcast and invisible in the crowds. Sophomores found their way o classes but just as he walked passed the room his hood and headphones were yanked off as he lacked the care to pay attention. He was invisible so he wouldn't have expected it either but when he lifted his eyes off the ground he saw a girl standing in front of him with her headphones in her hand; his music still playing clearly. "What do you want?" He asked her, none to kindly and then she smiled. It was so hard to ignore. She was the only person to find him every morning, to take him to class and make sure he went. The only person to smile at him endlessly until he smiled back. The only person he spoke to about anything that went on at home. She was the only person he could ever love. And she broke his heart. On the bridge of twenty, he was just counting down the days before the two of them would get married, all of her family and their friends there to see them happy. To see that he could smile as much as he still did. But that was the day he caught her cheating on him, saying that she never loved him in the first place. He was just a charity case for her. That was the end of the beginning. Extras James was born February 29th He is attending the school on a scholarship offered to him because of his grades, he cares not for the match program but for the education the facility can provide him with. Theme Song = Under and Over by Egypt Central

Damian Luv Cour - Gymnasium Le jeune homme s'était jeté dans la cour pour son après-midi hors de l'école, lisant un livre qu'Isabella et Steven lui avaient recommandé de lire dans son temps libre alors qu'il n'était pas avec Jack câlin, parler ou simplement sortir regarder un film. Le vent s'est légèrement redressé, renversant la page de son roman avant qu'il n'ait fini et soufflant de longs coups noirs dans son visage d'où ils avaient été installés sur les bords de sa vision pendant qu'il lisait pour l'après-midi. Il semblait qu'il y aurait bientôt une tempête; Damian espérait qu'à ce moment-là, ils étaient de retour dans leur chambre et se détendaient avant la vraie pluie. Aucun d'entre eux n'avait leur propre chambre donc ils ont rarement pu passer la nuit ensemble sans que leur compagnon de chambre respectif soit là et les empêcher d'être vraiment capables de câliner ou de baiser. Alors qu'il glissa son signet entre les pages, son téléphone vibrait et déclencha sa sonnerie, le début d'une de ses chansons préférées, et il sortit l'appareil de sa poche pour voir une notification de message flotter sur son écran de verrouillage. C'était un message de son match, le célèbre chaud, Jack Thomas. Parfois, Damian s'est demandé comment il avait jamais été jumelé avec le seul gars sur le campus que même les filles ont fauché sur, beaucoup de femmes ne sachant pas qu'il était encore gay, puisque Jack ne l'avait pas vraiment montré avant à l'un de ses matchs. Jack a fait plusieurs sports tout au long de l'année, contrairement à Damian qui a passé son temps dans des clubs plutôt féminins comme les arrangements floraux et le design de mode, mais il ne lui semblait pas que Jack se souciait de sa douceur de fille. J'arrive bientôt. Jack a souvent fini au gymnase quand il était contrarié ou avait trop réfléchi récemment, bien qu'il n'ait jamais demandé à Damian de venir le voir à ces moments-là. Le mâle se tenait et enfilait le livre dans sa cartable avant de l'épauler et de s'en aller à la salle de gym. Il avait porté aujourd'hui une paire de jeans noirs lâches, avec un t-shirt blanc et un pull noir au-dessus de son corps pâle et lanky. Son col était enveloppé autour de son cou comme toujours, installé sur son tatouage et caché sous les cheveux qui tournaient autour de la nuque comme toujours. Il marchait avec soin et de longs pas, son dos était légèrement dans la crainte de ce que Jack lui avait demandé de venir, bien qu'il n'ait jamais intentionnellement éviter ou ignorer son match - Jack était peut-être le mâle le plus merveilleux qu'il avait rencontré depuis très longtemps, agressif, mais encore il a essayé. Arrivé à la salle de gym Damian est entré avec ses baskets sur immobile et a délibérément marché jusqu'à ce que son petit ami battait sur un vieux sac de frappe usé de l'entrepôt. "Quoi de neuf? Est-ce que ça va?" Damian s'arrêta pas trop loin, ses mains fourmillèrent dans ses poches alors que ses yeux et sa voix racontaient son inquiétude pour le mâle devant lui, son inquiétude et sa peur que quelque chose allait très, très mal entre eux. En dehors du dortoir du Croissant La jeune femme a failli tomber en arrondissant le coin, venant au sommet où elle a vu un jeune homme tenant le chat blanc dans ses bras; Virgil avait du mal à s'échapper quand elle s'est arrêtée pas trop loin, mais s'est tournée pour la regarder avec défiance. "Vraiment Virgil?" Elle regarda le chat avec une main plantée sur sa hanche avant de lever le regard et regarda le mâle qui tenait son chat dans ses bras. Il était ténébreux, grand et beau, bien que la jeune femme bien élevée n'admette jamais une telle chose à haute voix. Ses cheveux étaient désordonnés et enchevêtrés à nouveau, ses franges tombant dans ses yeux avec d'autres plus longs brins mélangés à eux, bien qu'elle n'ait pas l'air embarrassée ou timide pour la façon dont elle était apparue devant le mâle. Elle devait retourner à l'intérieur pour ramener son chat et aller chercher ses affaires, car elle vivait seule dans la chambre et n'avait pas de compagnon de chambre avec des cours plus tard pour amener son chat pour elle. "Il m'en veut parce qu'il a été poussé du lit hier soir." La jeune femme tendit les mains au garçon, et ne le regarda pas vraiment en attendant que le chat soit mis dans ses bras par le mâle qui tenait le tom-cat manifestement ennuyé. Sa fourrure blanche contraste avec les cheveux foncés et la robe noire d'Isabella, sa peau d'albâtre pâle qui correspond presque à la neige étoilée des cheveux qui s'accrochent aux vêtements des garçons. "Puis-je avoir mon chat?" La jeune femme a demandé à l'étranger de ne pas s'arrêter pour des salutations ou des plaisanteries car elle allait déjà être en retard si elle ne retournait pas chercher ses affaires. Elle devait réparer ses cheveux et enlever tous les poils de chat de sa robe avant d'aller à ses cours ce matin, sans compter qu'elle allait à une lecture de poésie ce soir et avait besoin du temps supplémentaire pour travailler sur ses poèmes et les devoirs qu'elle allait devoir finir avant elle ce soir. Il y avait beaucoup à faire pour la goth girl ce soir, bien qu'elle puisse trouver un autre moment pour travailler sur une partie de cela.

Isabella Stern Be it thy nature, or nurture, ones own choice, or the wrong path taken; one will find themself face to face with death. Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/Demi-romantic School Year Collage 1st year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Poetry Warm beverages Cats Black Novels Dislikes Loud noises Surprises Disruptions Hobbies Novelist & Poet Isabella spends a great deal of her free time writing both novels and poetry, often dedicating hours to editing her stories and going to various poetry readings Fears Above all else, Isabella fears being rejected by the ones she loves most and being unnoticed by the objects of her affection. She is careful to avoid such contact and people she would easily get along with simply for this reason, though she is afraid to remain alone just as much as she fears rejection. Personality At her base, Isabella is a quiet girl who enjoys the company of few but resents that of many. She is calm and level headed, rational and yet at times her judgement is clouded by her feelings like any other. She craves companion ship, but often pushes others away without a second thought to preserve her own state of being for she has seen many a girl ruined by love. She is selfless when it comes to helping those she does not have a personal connection with though when she becomes attached to someone she becomes incredibly selfish though that selfishness is masked by a selfless wish for them to be happy. A compassionate and poetic individual she may almost always speak in phrases that resemble a poem of sorts, and hold that which she refuses to speak for herself. Biography A child runs, plays in the sand, Dances and twirls as new moon spans But hence we must give sweet goodbye To the innocent child that we once were. Sadness and doubt could her eyes, Fear and love pine her mind Looking for sweetness in a world of dread As victims pile on her mans hands. Love and betrayal go hand in hand For once we were young, Without knowledge of danger With love and kindness we all seek, Before life turned grey and we died inside. Hands touch where they should not, Rough and calloused; Ropes that bind, Tie and scar, we cannot hide From our grave mistakes. We trusted, Loved and spoke together; Shared and played; We thought we were safe. When he came for us It was our mistake, For trusting and loving Beyond their faith. We were young once, When we tempted fate, Love and lost For our mistake. Extras Bate of Birth December 29th, 20XX Pets She is in possession of two cats, a black one and a white one that she has special permission to keep in her dorm room since she is lacking a dorm mate. Damian Luv We all face them; the discrimination and the hate; Some more than others Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Homosexual/Homo-romantic School Year High School - 3rd Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Older men Cute things Coffee Supernatural; especially Cas Mythology Dislikes Pushy women and men Carrots Tobacco Boredom Hobbies Fashion/Room Design Fears Being alone in the dark; due to past experiences in the dark Personality Humble || Easily Embarrassed || Nerdy || Relaxed || Chill Regardless of how easy it is to make this soft spoken, gentle hearted boy blush it is nearly impossible to anger him enough for him to show it; especially if he doesn't care for the one attempting to anger him. Understanding and a great listener he's a compatible friend for nearly anyone in existence - he's even pretended to be a friends boyfriend to get her out of a sticky situation. On the other hand when he cares for someone they could easily upset him though he's rarely pushed to tears like many would expect of the usually very passionate homosexual. Biography The young man reached behind him to catch onto the nightstand beside his bed, looking for the switch to the lamp he kept there in case of his late night cravings to read or simply need a light on for a time. He found the cool metal stem and his eyes closed in preparation for the light but all he could feel then was heat; all he could smell was sweat, sex and alcohol; he could hear the heavy breathing and the grunts. He did not turn, he did not cower from these memories, instead he stayed still, allowing them to pass before he curled up once again in the dark and allowed himself a fitful rest before the morning light. James Sebastian Miles Lean on me and everything will be alright; I'll always be here Age 23 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual School Year College Third Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Milk Sports Hanging out with friends Nighttime walk Taking pictures Having fun Cookies Dislikes Being alone Thinking too much about the past Being around his ex-fiance Oranges and Orange cake Hobbies Photography James has always had a knack for taking pictures, and more often than not he can be found with his face behind a camera taking pictures or filming. He has an eyes for motions, for capturing emotions in his images. Fears At his very core, James is afraid to fall in love again; regardless of how well a persona he has created and how much confidence he outwardly shows to others, he is afraid of the basic human emotion; he is afraid of love. Fore he has learned that where there is love, there is an endless stream of pain and betrayal, of tears and gaping wounds no one can see. Scars that never heal. Personality Loving, Devoted and Strong. James often does all he can for those he cares about, giving up even the important things to rush to his loved ones side without a second thought to what it was he had been doing before. His own concerns always come after those around him and he often finds himself taking one of his friends out for a night on the town, or staying in and watching movies with them. In some cases he brings over pizza and chocolate when his female friends end up broken hearted. For most everyone he is a rock for them to lean on when they're down, someone they can depend on to be there when they need him most and yet he never seems to need their help, when offered or even insisted upon. Passive, Accepting and Determined. Not one to start an argument with someone else, James will sit back and listen calmly to another before carefully phrasing his own opinions and conclusions after hearing everything that they have to be said. He doesn't threaten others and more often then not doesn't get upset over things as easily as the people around him. Nothing escapes his notice when it comes to the people he chooses to speak to, their urge to accepted if they're an outsider especially so and he always greets someone - new or old - with open arms and a friendly smile to say that they're accepted and welcome with him. Of course when there is something he puts his mind to he has a very bad - or good , depending how you look at it - habit of doing everything in his power to accomplish it; be it finding something good to eat or saving a girl from a man on the street. He will do all in his power to achieve his goals. Seeing him give up is a very rare sign and often one of heartbreak and sadness. Passionate, Protective and Empathetic No matter what James does he always finds something to love about it, something to get excited for, something to give it a point for him, even if it is silly. Very passionate about his hobbies and interests he always tries to find a way to spread that love of an activity or object, no matter how silly it may seem to others. He's not afraid to shown that he loves something or someone, his heart on his sleeve and yet still protected now. When he loves something or someone he will try his best to make them happy, to smile with them and laugh, to protect them from everything that he can so they won't have to turn anymore; even from his own pain he protects them. In the case that someone he cares for his threatened, the not usually violent man, will willingly fight to protect them, putting himself in harms way to see that they don't fall under the wrath of someone else and instead takes that burden for himself, along with any others he can find. He never shows any signs of carrying too much on his shoulders, no cracks o leaks in his smiles, no tears unless it's a sad movie, nothing but that smiling rock that everyone so needs in their life. Emotions on the other hand are an easy thing for him to understand, the hidden tears behind the smiles that he knows, he understands very well. The way that someone will avoid the subject to avoid the pain and any other thing that could show a subtext that even they themselves may not realize are giving off. Careful, Guarded and Depressed. Some people change behind closed doors, when they're alone they find things so much easier than being with others and having to smile. Jame genuinely loves to be around people, to smile and laugh with friends but he still harbors that inner loneliness that comes with great loss to himself. When with others he is careful not to let on toward his own inner struggles as he moves only to help others and see the smiling faces of the people around him. Seeing love makes him happy, but yet it hurts him more than anything else because he knows that he won't have that again. Biography The screeching started again; the battle of two voices rising higher and higher, a seemingly endless contest of will, mockery and anger lacing the two voices that the small boy could hear from his bedroom. Dark hair disheveled from his desperate flight from the living room at the appearance of the second person, a man he was supposed to recognize as his father, his feet pounding on the stairs. He tripped, twisting his ankle in his haste but he ignored it until he was save under the covers of his bed, trying to be as quiet as possible and ignore the sounds coming from downstairs. It was so loud and so scary. It didn't happen much and they always told him it was fine afterward, that they were happy and that nothing was ever wrong but he didn't really believe them. How could he believe them when he came home to it? Years later he boy was a young man in high school, sitting alone in his room with music blasting in his ears. If asked he would say he's gotten used to the yelling and the fights that take place downstairs, detached himself from the situation and perfectly ready to leave when he gets the chance. Hood pulled up and covering his face he lifted his backpack and walked out the door passed the two, silent and obviously fighting again people. They thought he didn't know. The sounds of the students in the halls was lost on him as he weaved his way through, music blasting in his ears as he ignored everyone, eyes downcast and invisible in the crowds. Sophomores found their way o classes but just as he walked passed the room his hood and headphones were yanked off as he lacked the care to pay attention. He was invisible so he wouldn't have expected it either but when he lifted his eyes off the ground he saw a girl standing in front of him with her headphones in her hand; his music still playing clearly. "What do you want?" He asked her, none to kindly and then she smiled. It was so hard to ignore. She was the only person to find him every morning, to take him to class and make sure he went. The only person to smile at him endlessly until he smiled back. The only person he spoke to about anything that went on at home. She was the only person he could ever love. And she broke his heart. On the bridge of twenty, he was just counting down the days before the two of them would get married, all of her family and their friends there to see them happy. To see that he could smile as much as he still did. But that was the day he caught her cheating on him, saying that she never loved him in the first place. He was just a charity case for her. That was the end of the beginning. Extras James was born February 29th He is attending the school on a scholarship offered to him because of his grades, he cares not for the match program but for the education the facility can provide him with. Theme Song = Under and Over by Egypt Central

Max Patel Dorme d'éclipse Dès que Becca a placé l'assiette devant lui, Max a tout oublié de ce qui l'a dérangé. Il s'est empressé de prendre la fourchette et a commencé à se défouler. Soudain se souvenant de ses manières, il a saisi une serviette et essuyé sa bouche. "Oh désolé. Merci pour le repas, Becca. C'est vraiment bien », a-t-il dit, lui donnant un grand sourire comme pour montrer qu'il le voulait vraiment, ce qu'il a fait. "Et pourquoi ça me dérangerait si tu cuisinais pour moi tous les jours? Je devrais être celui qui te supplie de cuisiner pour moi tous les jours." Tout avait bon goût pour Max, mais ça fait un moment qu'il n'a pas mangé un bon repas à la maison comme ça. Et Becca était prête à faire ça tous les jours? Il pourrait s'habituer à ça. Ce n'était pas longtemps avant qu'il ait tout fini sur son assiette. Il ne restait plus qu'une seule miette à voir. Bien qu'il ait déjà fini de manger, il a décidé de rester à table et d'attendre que Becca finisse de manger aussi, d'être poli bien sûr. "Alors," a-t-il commencé, essayant de commencer une conversation. "Nous vivons enfin ensemble. C'est un peu bizarre, hein?" Il a fait l'erreur d'avoir un contact visuel avec la fille. Il n'a pas pu se libérer de son regard doux et bleu. Il sentait son cœur se mettre à battre de plus en plus vite. Mais il ne pouvait pas arrêter de regarder dans ses yeux. Cela n'a été qu'un an, mais elle a mûri à cette époque. Ou au moins quelque chose a changé. Heureusement pour lui, la table était encore entre eux et cela l'empêchait de faire quelque chose qu'il aurait pu regretter. (Désolé pour le mauvais post XD et prendre si longtemps)

Niall Christianson “Happiness can be found even in the darkest times if one only remembers to turn on the light.” - Dumbledore, JK Rowling Age 20 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Straight/Can be romantic when he chooses to be School Year College 2nd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Working out, hunting with his pack, women Dislikes People he deems have no common sense, people that are weak, especially males, the color yellow, mustard yellow in particular Hobbies Hunting, working out, tracking Fears Being challenged when he becomes Alpha, not finding a match Personality Niall is very logical, even when he might not seem that way. He does everything for a very specific reason. He can be romantic when he wishes to be and can be quite charming at times. However his instincts do sway him a lot of the time, there is only so much control a wolf can have. He does his best not to let the wolf show when he's around other people, humans especially but he can be rather volatile as he doesn't have a mate. One thing to note, never run from him. Ever. Walk away if you must but never run. Niall can also be very possessive as most canids can tend to be. It isn't really ever advisable to touch anything that he considers to be his. This can be items, clothes, or even other individuals. Biography Niall was born into a relatively large pack, a 147 members at the time of his birth. Their numbers are slightly less now hovering around a 120 members or so give or take some floater wolves. Niall's father Keenan is the current reigning Alpha of the pack and has been for the last 70 years or so. Niall, of course, being the Alpha's son lived the good life. He was well protected and had everything he could possibly want. However, with the position comes responsibilities, like learning to fight your way out of mess and talk your way out of one too. One must be a warrior and a diplomat all at the same time. Niall wanted for nothing but spend the majority of his time training and learning from his father. As the oldest son Niall will take the throne when he is deemed ready and has completed the mating ceremony. This requirement is what brought him to Ivy Wood Academy. Non-Human Information Species Lycanthrope, Loup Garou Abilities Niall has a secondary form that is a canid-like creature with no current scientific classification. Weaknesses Niall has a mild allergy to silver, it gives him a rash and makes him itchy when it touches his skin. If pure silver were to get into his bloodstream it would kill him. Other than that only severing his spinal cord will kill him. Extras Niall, is the Alpha's oldest son. As such he is the heir and is expected the find a mate and take the position of Alpha when his father deems him ready.

Blake Greyson Dortoir de la comète "Je vois que tu es encore allé à la bibliothèque." Niall a commenté la pile de livres de Blake. "Oui, j'étais juste avec Isabella. Aussi, il est beaucoup plus facile d'obtenir tout un tas de livres à la fois plutôt que d'aller à la bibliothèque tous les jours. Surtout quand on lit autant que moi." Blair a lâché. Il pouvait dire que son colocataire était un peu plus fidget que d'habitude, mais il a décidé de le brosser. Pour ne pas être méchant ou quoi que ce soit, mais pour le moment Blake ne se souciait pas du drame qui se passait dans la vie de son colocataire. Ce n'était pas à Blake. Blake a laissé tomber sa pile de livres sur son bureau et a sorti son portefeuille de sa poche avant d'allumer sa lampe de bureau. Puis il a saisi l'un des livres de sa pile et a commencé à lire. C'était une recommandation d'Isabella. Il s'agissait d'un jeune homme et de ses aventures après s'être perdu sur une île. Il avait apparemment quelques points de vue moraux et philosophiques intéressants. Donc, ignorant son travail d'école, Blake plongea dans la tête du livre d'abord devenant profondément absorbé. Pendant de telles périodes, il était difficile d'attirer son attention. Le match de Blake, James, avait beaucoup de photos qu'il a prises de Blake dans cet état. Blake n'était pas grand à faire prendre sa photo, mais il pouvait faire une exception pour James.

Angelica "Ann" Byrd “In these times I don't, in a manner of speaking, know what I want; perhaps I don't want what I know and want what I don't know.” Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual School Year 2nd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Fall Green fruit comics Dislikes Pressure (both of the pyhysical and emotional kind) Cottage Cheese sleepless nights Hobbies Cooking Fears She has a fear of the future and where her place in will be in it. Like if she will do something big or at least meaningful, or if she'll just dissapear with the rest of history that was to mudane to remember. Personality Ann is a pretty easy person to get along with, able to start up a conversation up with just about anyone. She's also very honest with people, though she's been told that she dosn't really have any tact. Living in the moment and having fun is important to her and she easily stresses about grades, important things that need to be done, and things like that if she spends to long thinking about them. She also can't seem to really hold a grudge or stay angry for long, and even when she is angry she's not to hot tempered. Overall she's just not a serious person. Biography Ann was born to a photographer (her mom) and a history teacher (her father). Growing up she heard amazing stories of the trips her parents took after they graduated and Ann started to have dream big dreams for herself. But as she grew up her dreams started to fade away as she realized that even after her parent's amazing adventures, they had just settled down and lead ordinary lifes. Ann soon started to think that that was her fate as well, and she was unsure of how to change it. Her parents, seeing their daughter like this, decided to have her enroll into Ivy Wood Academy. After all, it was were they met and their lifes changed. While Ann was excited to be going to a new school she wasn't sure if this was the right choice for her, not acedemic wise. It was the match making part that worried her. On one hand, it would feel good to not have to worry about finding the person for her. On the other hand, Ann wasn't sure if she would feel satisfied that she hadn't put in the effort herself to find her match. But Ann wasn't about to let her mixed feelings get in the way of enjoying the adventure of a new school so she packed her bags and set out for Ivy Wood Academy.

En dehors du dortoir du Croissant La première chose que William a notée de la fille était qu'elle avait l'air éblouie. La seconde était qu'elle était incroyablement pâle, et ce n'était pas un tour de la lumière. Elle a demandé le retour du chat qui s'était enfui dans l'ennui pour avoir été expulsé du lit, et William a passé le chat à ses bras étendus, l'arpentant soigneusement. Si elle était pressée, il ne voudrait pas la garder. Mais si elle avait besoin d'aide, William en avait deux libres. Mais techniquement, il n'était pas censé être là, sur le terrain du dortoir des filles. Mais si simple une transgression ne pouvait guère compter contre lui trop mal. Avant qu'elle ne puisse éteindre son talon et se dépêcher, William a mis ses pouces dans ses poches. « Si ça ne vous dérange pas que je vous dise, vous semblez avoir besoin d'aide », a-t-il dit de façon directe, une offre en soi. Il lui est apparu qu'il ne connaissait pas son nom, et il pensait que le métier serait équitable seulement s'il se présentait d'abord. "Mon nom est William, au fait. William Cresthall. Puis-je connaître le vôtre?"

Name: Imogen Carlisle Quote “You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching, Love like you'll never be hurt, Sing like there's nobody listening, And live like it's heaven on earth.” ― William W. Purkey Age 17 Gender Female from birth Sexual/Romantic Preference Straight (is that what you mean) School Year High school: 3rd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Colour likes Lime green Blue Red Colour Dislikes Pink Orange Brown Fears Drowning Being lonely for the rest of her life Personality Imogen in kind, loving, compassionate, trustworthy and overprotective. The only time she gets angry and aggressive is if you do something towards some one she cares about. She may seem happy on the outside but if you delve deep into her eyes you can see she is not. She is lonely and out for love. She doesn't seem to care for herself only others. She loves to draw and play the piano. She has a bad memory so she often forgets things if you don't remind her. She hates to fight people, so she has no fighting skills. Biography She parents died in a car crash when she was 8 and she has been living with her aunt for the rest of the years, with her 6 sisters and her one brother. She is the 7th daughter of the 7th daughter. In her earlier years she didn't understand why everyone else had a mother and father to go to there things but she only had an aunt. She found it hard to concentrate in school, because her head kept on flashing back to the day when the cop came to the door and told them the news. Her favourite subjects had always been English and art. Extras She can turn into any animal other then a lion, tiger or bear, OH MY! Species Shapeshifter Abilities Telepathy Fire manipulation shapeshifting Weaknesses Can sometimes reads someones mind when she doesn't want too Sometimes when shes angry things can catch fire

Croix de Kali Gymnasium Bonjour, Kali. Je viens d'entrer et mes colocataires ne sont pas là. Qu'est-ce que tu mijotes? Tu veux aller prendre à manger? Le texte dit. Kali s'est souri. Elle voulait prendre à manger. Elle était affamée après cette séance d'entraînement. C'est presque comme s'il pouvait lire dans mes pensées. Kali a glissé sur sa pensée ridicule. Puis, elle s'est vite emparée de ses affaires et s'est dirigée vers les douches. Absolument! J'étais juste en train de travailler, donc je dois prendre une douche rapide. Alors sur une échelle de McDonalds au restaurant 5 étoiles quelle est la fantaisie de l'occasion? Kali a tapé sur son vieux téléphone à diapositives, en chemin. Les questions de ce genre sont généralement ce qui inquiète la plupart des filles pendant qu'elles sont assises dans leur chambre, mais Kali vient de leur demander directement. Pas besoin de jouer aux jeux de devinettes quand vous pouvez leur demander et sauver l'anxiété. Au moment de l'envoi du message, elle était déjà dans la salle de douche. C'était plutôt vide, comme d'habitude. Peu de filles de cette école n'ont pas pris le temps de faire de l'exercice. C'était peut-être en rapport avec le fait d'être une école privée? Qui sait? Kali a jeté son téléphone de côté et a sauté dans une douche. Dès qu'elle a allumé la douche, Kali a regretté sa décision. Alors qu'il n'y avait pas beaucoup de filles à la salle de gym, les gars ont inondé l'endroit. Donc naturellement ils utilisent toute l'eau chaude. L'eau verglaçante qui s'est abattue sur le dos de Kali se sentait bien dans l'aspect qu'elle a refroidi, mais bientôt elle tremblait. Kali a pensé à la douche dans son dortoir. Il avait presque toujours de l'eau chaude. Mais Kali ne voulait pas marcher jusqu'à ce qu'ils reviennent, dans sa forme transpirante et collante. Elle s'est donc douchée le plus rapidement possible physiquement.

Angelica "Ann" Byrd “In these times I don't, in a manner of speaking, know what I want; perhaps I don't want what I know and want what I don't know.” Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual School Year 2nd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Fall Green fruit comics Dislikes Pressure (both of the pyhysical and emotional kind) Cottage Cheese sleepless nights Hobbies Cooking Fears She has a fear of the future and where her place in will be in it. Like if she will do something big or at least meaningful, or if she'll just dissapear with the rest of history that was to mudane to remember. Personality Ann is a pretty easy person to get along with, able to start up a conversation up with just about anyone. She's also very honest with people, though she's been told that she dosn't really have any tact. Living in the moment and having fun is important to her and she easily stresses about grades, important things that need to be done, and things like that if she spends to long thinking about them. She also can't seem to really hold a grudge or stay angry for long, and even when she is angry she's not to hot tempered. Overall she's just not a serious person. Biography Ann was born to a photographer (her mom) and a history teacher (her father). Growing up she heard amazing stories of the trips her parents took after they graduated and Ann started to have dream big dreams for herself. But as she grew up her dreams started to fade away as she realized that even after her parent's amazing adventures, they had just settled down and lead ordinary lifes. Ann soon started to think that that was her fate as well, and she was unsure of how to change it. Her parents, seeing their daughter like this, decided to have her enroll into Ivy Wood Academy. After all, it was were they met and their lifes changed. While Ann was excited to be going to a new school she wasn't sure if this was the right choice for her, not acedemic wise. It was the match making part that worried her. On one hand, it would feel good to not have to worry about finding the person for her. On the other hand, Ann wasn't sure if she would feel satisfied that she hadn't put in the effort herself to find her match. But Ann wasn't about to let her mixed feelings get in the way of enjoying the adventure of a new school so she packed her bags and set out for Ivy Wood Academy.

Dean Eaton Comet-Out Front Absolument! J'étais juste en train de travailler, donc je dois prendre une douche rapide. Alors sur une échelle de McDonalds au restaurant 5 étoiles quelle est la fantaisie de l'occasion? Dean hums, pas vraiment avoir considéré où ils devraient aller pour la nourriture. C'est toujours si détendu avec Kali, parfois elle décide et parfois elle le laissera, mais ça n'a jamais l'air d'être un problème. Elle a toujours été douée pour l'entraînement et Dean aime ça, elle est une super partenaire avec qui aller à la gym. Certainement un motivateur quand il n'a pas envie de s'entraîner. Bien sûr que si. Je peux toujours m'attendre à te trouver à la salle de gym. Juste un peu plus haut de McDonalds, j'ai pensé qu'on pourrait prendre un verre et le manger ici. Alors ne vous inquiétez pas beaucoup de ce que vous portez. Je te retrouve devant. Dean se transforme en chemise noire avec un jean sombre avant de se diriger vers l'avant du terrain. Il n'a jamais pensé être plus avec Kali, il ne pense pas qu'elle y pense non plus. C'était une décision mutuelle de garder ça ouvert. "Hé, bébé!" Il appelle quand il la repère et ouvre les bras pour lui faire un câlin. "Comment ça s'est passé loin de moi? Des nouvelles sur les fêtes? Je n'ai rien entendu, mais j'ai l'impression d'avoir été plutôt hors de question récemment. Vous avez l'air bien." Il jette un coup d'œil sur sa tenue avec un humour apprécié. Liam Hanway Comète Dorm Liam erre dans les couloirs et regarde dans les chambres qui ont leurs portes ouvertes, en vérifiant ce que les gens font. Il se promène enfin dans une chambre avec un mec seul, il n'y a pas plus d'une personne installée dans la chambre. Il essaie de savoir s'il connaît le gars qui est là-dedans et frappe à la légère à la porte. "James?" Il demande, se souvenant avoir vu le gars autour de l'école avant. Ils ne se connaissent pas bien, mais il l'a déjà vu. "Comment allez-vous? Est-ce que votre colocataire a déménagé avec son allumette aussi ou est-ce que vous attendez juste un colocataire?" Ce n'est pas comme s'il était en colère contre Max, il est excité qu'il devienne sérieux avec sa relation. Liam n'a pas encore été jumelé, mais il n'est même pas sûr s'il le veut. Il déteste l'idée d'être dit qu'il devrait tomber amoureux de la personne qui est choisie, mais il faut beaucoup de la lutte pour trouver quelqu'un hors du chemin. Ce n'est pas qu'il n'y ait pas quelques gars ici qu'il n'aimerait pas être avec, jumelé ou pas. Il voit à nouveau James et lui sourit doucement. "Je suis Liam, au fait. Nous n'avons pas vraiment parlé avant."

Liam Hanway “One of the greatest regrets in life is being what others would want you to be, rather than being yourself.” ― Shannon L. Alder Age 16 Sexual/Romantic Preference Homosexual School Year 2nd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match (This can change if more pro or anti's are needed) Likes -Sports -Books -Coloring (like books and attempting to draw) -Math -Soft things Dislikes -Being proven wrong -Being put on the spot -Exercising Hobbies -Reading -Writing -Sports -Rping/meeting people online Fears -Spiders, snakes, bugs of any kind -Heights -Public Speaking Personality From the outside Liam would seem to fit perfectly in to the athletic, popular crowd. He may not actually be popular, but he's always been well liked by everyone around him. It's all about fading in to the group, not causing waves and being the quite one that everyone knows and likes. He tries to keep that show up on the outside, but he truly would prefer to just sit in his room on his computer. Life is usually all about keeping up appearances and he can't have people knowing he truly would rather meet people online. It's much easier to talk to his friends on there because he never has to worry about feeling awkward. With people in real life he has to worry about everything he says and if they will find it rude or silly. He's always been worried about what people will think of the true him, so he's fit himself in to the life he thought would get him the farthest and he's grown in that role. He's gotten much better at talking to people, more outgoing with meeting new potential friends, but it's all usually an act and he's wondering when he can get back to his room and in to his bed. Biography Liam's had a rather simple life, he's lived with his mother, stepfather, and older sister. He hardly remembers his father and considers his stepdad to be more of a father then his real dad ever has been. He's sister, Rachel, had actually gone through getting matched before him and she just loves it, which has definitely made it all easier for Liam. He hadn't liked the idea of being told who his soulmate was before Rachel came home talking about how much she loved it. His mother thought it was the greatest thing after the oldest child went through and she pushed Liam in to going, not that he could truly say no to her. Of course his family has their fights, and they can get very heated, but he thinks he was really blessed getting the family he did. Life could have been much harder for him. Extras Liam truly just wants to be taken care of, especially when he's sick. He hates feeling needy, but he will feel like he needs to be around good friends sometimes. It makes him feel clingy and annoying to try and hang out with friends after he may have pushed them away for a few days.

Rebecca Callaghan Dormes d'éclipse Rebecca n'a pas pu aider la lueur d'amusement qu'elle ressentait quand Max a mentionné comment ils vivaient enfin ensemble. Il avait fallu des mois de subtilités et de demandes polies avant qu'elle n'ait réussi à éroder sa volonté assez pour qu'il accepte le déménagement. "Je ne dirais pas que c'est bizarre, juste... différent." Elle a dit entre deux bouches. "D'une certaine façon, je suis excitée. C'est une aventure." Elle avait l'air sincère comme elle l'a dit. Notant que Max avait déjà fini son repas, Rebecca a rapidement fini le dernier de ses repas et s'est levée pour nettoyer la vaisselle. Elle les a placés dans l'évier de la cuisine, faisant une note mentale pour les laver plus tard. -- Alors... dit-elle, en se penchant sur le comptoir de la cuisine, alors qu'elle le regardait. "Y a-t-il quelque chose que vous aimeriez faire? Je ne sais pas vraiment quel est le protocole avec les nouveaux... colocataires?" Elle s'aventurait, ne savait pas comment exactement marquer leur relation. Elle devrait l'appeler son petit ami? Son match? "Je suis heureux de tout ce que vous voulez faire..." Elle a dit, un peu sans but, flippant encore une fois entre excité et nerveux.

Rebecca Callaghan "A book is a portal to a new life. One day I'm a child detective, and the next I'm a swashbuckling pirate. I just have to open a book and dive in." Age 16 years old Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual School Year 2nd year of High School Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Peace and quiet Books Warm sunny days Dislikes Loud crowds Rain People who disrespect literature Hobbies Reading Fears Heights Insects Personality Rebecca has always been a friendly if somewhat quiet person, rarely raising her voice. Despite her soft spoken demeanor, however she has strong beliefs about the value of literature and takes any disrespect towards books very badly. It is these moments that she does raise her voice and has been known to go off lengthy tirades at times. Biography Rebecca was born into a family of male athletes. He father was a track and field star and her three brothers shared his passion for sports, which left Rebecca as the odd duck of the family. She was the only girl and didn't feel much of any pull towards athletics. She didn't have any interest in sports, so her father didn't have any time for her. Fortunately Rebecca still had her mother. Rebecca's mother was an aspiring writer, and while she'd never managed to get anything published, she had an undying love of the written word and the fantastical worlds that could be created with them. She passed this love onto Rebecca and they would spend many nights reading together. When Rebecca's mother passed away from illness, Rebecca considered her love of books to be her mother's greatest gift to her.

Niall Christianson Comet Dormitory - Bureau de Match Niall pouvait dire à Blake qu'il était dans son petit monde à l'intérieur du livre maintenant donc il l'a laissé, il avait besoin de bouger de toute façon. Il avait toujours ses bottes quand il était arrivé ici il y a près de trois heures et n'avait tout simplement pas pris la peine de les enlever. Il a pensé qu'il pourrait aussi bien aller au bureau des allumettes et trouver son nouveau match. Son nom était Amanda et il a prié la Lune qu'elle serait celle qu'il pourrait enfin ramener à la maison à la meute. Ils n'étaient pas tous liés, mais ils étaient sa famille et tout ce qu'il avait et il était leur futur roi. Il les dirigerait un jour, peut-être avec Amanda à ses côtés si elle pouvait gérer les sauvages qui vivaient en lui et dans sa meute. Alors il sort de leur chambre en offrant une vague à Blake, même s'il doutait qu'il le verrait encore moins remarquer qu'il était parti pour un certain temps. Il a gardé ses pas mesurés, comme il était d'usage de garder la bête en lui dans la ligne. Il était encore jeune et il apparaîtrait ainsi pendant un certain temps. S'il devait épouser un homme, le vieillissement de sa femme serait lié à la sienne et ralentirait pour correspondre à la sienne ou accélérerait pour correspondre à la sienne. Il est arrivé assez vite, quand vous avez six pieds six près de six sept, vous avez tendance à arriver à des endroits à pied assez rapidement. Surtout quand tu es un Lycan et que tu bouges un peu plus vite que tu ne devrais. Niall s'est assuré d'apaiser la bête avant qu'il ne rentre. Se poser mentalement et émotionnellement et enlever toute trace du loup avant d'entrer dans l'immeuble. Il a ouvert la porte et a fait son chemin à l'intérieur.

Amanda James "I think that 'Weird' is great. It leads to new things and possibilities." Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/romantic School Year College First Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes ♡Cute things ♡Desserts ♡Being Herself Dislikes ♤Dark Chocolate ♤Bullies ♤Extremely narrow minded people ♤Avacados Hobbies ♢Writing ♢Doing DIY projects Fears •Giant Bugs •Being completely alone in the world. (In all aspects) Personality Amanda is a girl who definitely marches to the beat of her own drum. She loves cracking jokes and making stupid puns just because she likes putting smiles on people's faces. She is a girl who is generally happy and looks for the good in things. Though she isn't always so confident. There are times where she doesn't feel good enough to be with those around her and she hides away for a day or 2. Amanda is also a bit stubborn at times. Biography Amanda has led a normal life. She hasn't done anything over the top (at least by her standards) that would be considered different. She has had crushes and the occasional broken heart but usually has managed to bounce back from those seemingly untouched. Coming from a middle class family,  she managed to get a scholarship to Ivy Wood and continues to try and make her family proud, and maybe find a companion along the way.

Amanda JamesCressent Dorms - Bureau de Match Amanda a regardé Magdaline avec un petit sourire plein d'espoir sur son visage.  "Je vais aller dans le domaine médical. Je veux être un procureur, en particulier. " Elle était heureuse de voir que son compagnon de chambre voulait commencer à la connaître. "Bien sûr! Laisse-moi finir. Son téléphone a commencé à vibrer.  "Huh?" Elle l'a ramassée et a été un peu surprise. "Désolé, mais mon Match veut me rencontrer pour la première fois maintenant. Il faut que je me change et que je passe au bureau du match. Peut-être pourrions-nous sortir prendre un café ou quelque chose à mon retour?" Elle a commencé à creuser dans son sac et a sorti une robe bleu clair avant de courir dans la salle de bains pour changer rapidement. Elle s'est emparée de ses appartements et s'est amusée après quelques minutes. Elle a commencé pour le bureau de match.  Un million de pensées ont traversé son esprit en allant là-bas. Est-ce qu'elle avait l'air d'aller bien?  Est-ce qu'il la voudrait? Était-il impliqué avec quelqu'un d'autre et voulait juste la laisser tomber avant qu'elle n'ait des idées?  J'espère qu'elle n'a pas trop parlé autour de lui ou l'énerve trop. Elle est arrivée à la porte d'entrée, prenant une respiration profonde avant d'entrer. Il y avait quelques personnes à l'intérieur, mais un seul gars était seul et semblait attendre quelqu'un. Il était grand. Elle n'avait que 3 pieds.  Elle aurait dû porter des talons. Amanda a regardé son téléphone pour savoir quel était son nom avant de rassembler un peu de courage pour marcher vers lui.  "Hé, vous êtes Niall?" La fille a demandé quand elle s'est approchée de lui.

Amanda James "I think that 'Weird' is great. It leads to new things and possibilities." Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/romantic School Year College First Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes ♡Cute things ♡Desserts ♡Being Herself Dislikes ♤Dark Chocolate ♤Bullies ♤Extremely narrow minded people ♤Avacados Hobbies ♢Writing ♢Doing DIY projects Fears •Giant Bugs •Being completely alone in the world. (In all aspects) Personality Amanda is a girl who definitely marches to the beat of her own drum. She loves cracking jokes and making stupid puns just because she likes putting smiles on people's faces. She is a girl who is generally happy and looks for the good in things. Though she isn't always so confident. There are times where she doesn't feel good enough to be with those around her and she hides away for a day or 2. Amanda is also a bit stubborn at times. Biography Amanda has led a normal life. She hasn't done anything over the top (at least by her standards) that would be considered different. She has had crushes and the occasional broken heart but usually has managed to bounce back from those seemingly untouched. Coming from a middle class family,  she managed to get a scholarship to Ivy Wood and continues to try and make her family proud, and maybe find a companion along the way.

En dehors du dortoir du Croissant Avec le chat de retour en toute sécurité dans ses bras Isabella s'était tournée pour laisser le mâle derrière dehors sans tant qu'un merci bien qu'il lui ait parlé à nouveau. Il essayait d'être un gentleman, elle pouvait le dire comme il lui offrait son aide et elle se tourna pour le regarder de nouveau, n'ayant pas encore pris un seul pas loin de lui. « Là où on ne peut pas entrer, il est sûr d'attendre; la patience est toujours récompensée. » La jeune femme n'a pas attendu une réponse du mâle et s'est détournée de lui, marchant calmement de retour à la porte et à l'intérieur pour ramener son chat jusqu'à sa chambre. Il lui a fallu plus de dix minutes pour remonter avec le félin en difficulté dans ses bras et rassembler ses affaires ; fermer la porte rapidement pour que Virgil ne puisse plus s'échapper. Alors qu'elle était dans sa chambre, elle avait réparé ses cheveux et retiré les cheveux de chat de sa robe, le tissu purement noir à nouveau en contraste avec sa peau pâle. Les lèvres noires et les longs cils ajoutent à ses traits élégants, encadrés par une frange de cheveux noirs corbeaux naturels avec des serrures tombant de chaque côté de son visage. C'était droit et long, les bouts qui s'arrêtaient au petit de son dos et le plus souvent elle le retirerait dans une sorte de vieux style gothique bien qu'aujourd'hui il soit resté long et plat; brillant et doux. En rentrant du dortoir, je regardais si bien pour voir si le mâle l'avait vraiment attendue.

Isabella Stern Be it thy nature, or nurture, ones own choice, or the wrong path taken; one will find themself face to face with death. Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/Demi-romantic School Year Collage 1st year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Poetry Warm beverages Cats Black Novels Dislikes Loud noises Surprises Disruptions Hobbies Novelist & Poet Isabella spends a great deal of her free time writing both novels and poetry, often dedicating hours to editing her stories and going to various poetry readings Fears Above all else, Isabella fears being rejected by the ones she loves most and being unnoticed by the objects of her affection. She is careful to avoid such contact and people she would easily get along with simply for this reason, though she is afraid to remain alone just as much as she fears rejection. Personality At her base, Isabella is a quiet girl who enjoys the company of few but resents that of many. She is calm and level headed, rational and yet at times her judgement is clouded by her feelings like any other. She craves companion ship, but often pushes others away without a second thought to preserve her own state of being for she has seen many a girl ruined by love. She is selfless when it comes to helping those she does not have a personal connection with though when she becomes attached to someone she becomes incredibly selfish though that selfishness is masked by a selfless wish for them to be happy. A compassionate and poetic individual she may almost always speak in phrases that resemble a poem of sorts, and hold that which she refuses to speak for herself. Biography A child runs, plays in the sand, Dances and twirls as new moon spans But hence we must give sweet goodbye To the innocent child that we once were. Sadness and doubt could her eyes, Fear and love pine her mind Looking for sweetness in a world of dread As victims pile on her mans hands. Love and betrayal go hand in hand For once we were young, Without knowledge of danger With love and kindness we all seek, Before life turned grey and we died inside. Hands touch where they should not, Rough and calloused; Ropes that bind, Tie and scar, we cannot hide From our grave mistakes. We trusted, Loved and spoke together; Shared and played; We thought we were safe. When he came for us It was our mistake, For trusting and loving Beyond their faith. We were young once, When we tempted fate, Love and lost For our mistake. Extras Bate of Birth December 29th, 20XX Pets She is in possession of two cats, a black one and a white one that she has special permission to keep in her dorm room since she is lacking a dorm mate. Damian Luv We all face them; the discrimination and the hate; Some more than others Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Homosexual/Homo-romantic School Year High School - 3rd Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Older men Cute things Coffee Supernatural; especially Cas Mythology Dislikes Pushy women and men Carrots Tobacco Boredom Hobbies Fashion/Room Design Fears Being alone in the dark; due to past experiences in the dark Personality Humble || Easily Embarrassed || Nerdy || Relaxed || Chill Regardless of how easy it is to make this soft spoken, gentle hearted boy blush it is nearly impossible to anger him enough for him to show it; especially if he doesn't care for the one attempting to anger him. Understanding and a great listener he's a compatible friend for nearly anyone in existence - he's even pretended to be a friends boyfriend to get her out of a sticky situation. On the other hand when he cares for someone they could easily upset him though he's rarely pushed to tears like many would expect of the usually very passionate homosexual. Biography The young man reached behind him to catch onto the nightstand beside his bed, looking for the switch to the lamp he kept there in case of his late night cravings to read or simply need a light on for a time. He found the cool metal stem and his eyes closed in preparation for the light but all he could feel then was heat; all he could smell was sweat, sex and alcohol; he could hear the heavy breathing and the grunts. He did not turn, he did not cower from these memories, instead he stayed still, allowing them to pass before he curled up once again in the dark and allowed himself a fitful rest before the morning light. James Sebastian Miles Lean on me and everything will be alright; I'll always be here Age 23 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual School Year College Third Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Milk Sports Hanging out with friends Nighttime walk Taking pictures Having fun Cookies Dislikes Being alone Thinking too much about the past Being around his ex-fiance Oranges and Orange cake Hobbies Photography James has always had a knack for taking pictures, and more often than not he can be found with his face behind a camera taking pictures or filming. He has an eyes for motions, for capturing emotions in his images. Fears At his very core, James is afraid to fall in love again; regardless of how well a persona he has created and how much confidence he outwardly shows to others, he is afraid of the basic human emotion; he is afraid of love. Fore he has learned that where there is love, there is an endless stream of pain and betrayal, of tears and gaping wounds no one can see. Scars that never heal. Personality Loving, Devoted and Strong. James often does all he can for those he cares about, giving up even the important things to rush to his loved ones side without a second thought to what it was he had been doing before. His own concerns always come after those around him and he often finds himself taking one of his friends out for a night on the town, or staying in and watching movies with them. In some cases he brings over pizza and chocolate when his female friends end up broken hearted. For most everyone he is a rock for them to lean on when they're down, someone they can depend on to be there when they need him most and yet he never seems to need their help, when offered or even insisted upon. Passive, Accepting and Determined. Not one to start an argument with someone else, James will sit back and listen calmly to another before carefully phrasing his own opinions and conclusions after hearing everything that they have to be said. He doesn't threaten others and more often then not doesn't get upset over things as easily as the people around him. Nothing escapes his notice when it comes to the people he chooses to speak to, their urge to accepted if they're an outsider especially so and he always greets someone - new or old - with open arms and a friendly smile to say that they're accepted and welcome with him. Of course when there is something he puts his mind to he has a very bad - or good , depending how you look at it - habit of doing everything in his power to accomplish it; be it finding something good to eat or saving a girl from a man on the street. He will do all in his power to achieve his goals. Seeing him give up is a very rare sign and often one of heartbreak and sadness. Passionate, Protective and Empathetic No matter what James does he always finds something to love about it, something to get excited for, something to give it a point for him, even if it is silly. Very passionate about his hobbies and interests he always tries to find a way to spread that love of an activity or object, no matter how silly it may seem to others. He's not afraid to shown that he loves something or someone, his heart on his sleeve and yet still protected now. When he loves something or someone he will try his best to make them happy, to smile with them and laugh, to protect them from everything that he can so they won't have to turn anymore; even from his own pain he protects them. In the case that someone he cares for his threatened, the not usually violent man, will willingly fight to protect them, putting himself in harms way to see that they don't fall under the wrath of someone else and instead takes that burden for himself, along with any others he can find. He never shows any signs of carrying too much on his shoulders, no cracks o leaks in his smiles, no tears unless it's a sad movie, nothing but that smiling rock that everyone so needs in their life. Emotions on the other hand are an easy thing for him to understand, the hidden tears behind the smiles that he knows, he understands very well. The way that someone will avoid the subject to avoid the pain and any other thing that could show a subtext that even they themselves may not realize are giving off. Careful, Guarded and Depressed. Some people change behind closed doors, when they're alone they find things so much easier than being with others and having to smile. Jame genuinely loves to be around people, to smile and laugh with friends but he still harbors that inner loneliness that comes with great loss to himself. When with others he is careful not to let on toward his own inner struggles as he moves only to help others and see the smiling faces of the people around him. Seeing love makes him happy, but yet it hurts him more than anything else because he knows that he won't have that again. Biography The screeching started again; the battle of two voices rising higher and higher, a seemingly endless contest of will, mockery and anger lacing the two voices that the small boy could hear from his bedroom. Dark hair disheveled from his desperate flight from the living room at the appearance of the second person, a man he was supposed to recognize as his father, his feet pounding on the stairs. He tripped, twisting his ankle in his haste but he ignored it until he was save under the covers of his bed, trying to be as quiet as possible and ignore the sounds coming from downstairs. It was so loud and so scary. It didn't happen much and they always told him it was fine afterward, that they were happy and that nothing was ever wrong but he didn't really believe them. How could he believe them when he came home to it? Years later he boy was a young man in high school, sitting alone in his room with music blasting in his ears. If asked he would say he's gotten used to the yelling and the fights that take place downstairs, detached himself from the situation and perfectly ready to leave when he gets the chance. Hood pulled up and covering his face he lifted his backpack and walked out the door passed the two, silent and obviously fighting again people. They thought he didn't know. The sounds of the students in the halls was lost on him as he weaved his way through, music blasting in his ears as he ignored everyone, eyes downcast and invisible in the crowds. Sophomores found their way o classes but just as he walked passed the room his hood and headphones were yanked off as he lacked the care to pay attention. He was invisible so he wouldn't have expected it either but when he lifted his eyes off the ground he saw a girl standing in front of him with her headphones in her hand; his music still playing clearly. "What do you want?" He asked her, none to kindly and then she smiled. It was so hard to ignore. She was the only person to find him every morning, to take him to class and make sure he went. The only person to smile at him endlessly until he smiled back. The only person he spoke to about anything that went on at home. She was the only person he could ever love. And she broke his heart. On the bridge of twenty, he was just counting down the days before the two of them would get married, all of her family and their friends there to see them happy. To see that he could smile as much as he still did. But that was the day he caught her cheating on him, saying that she never loved him in the first place. He was just a charity case for her. That was the end of the beginning. Extras James was born February 29th He is attending the school on a scholarship offered to him because of his grades, he cares not for the match program but for the education the facility can provide him with. Theme Song = Under and Over by Egypt Central

Croix de Kali Comet Dormatoire - Front Quand Kali est sortie de la douche, la première fois qu'elle a vérifié son téléphone. Bien sûr que si. Je peux toujours m'attendre à te trouver à la salle de gym. Juste un peu plus haut de McDonalds, j'ai pensé qu'on pourrait prendre un verre et le manger ici. Alors ne vous inquiétez pas beaucoup de ce que vous portez. Je te retrouve devant. Kali s'est moquée du commentaire de Dean. Il n'avait pas tort, l'exercice était un anti-stress pour Kali, donc elle a passé un peu de temps là-bas. Avec cette nouvelle info, Kali a jeté sur un tanktop blanc lâche, avec jeans noir maigre, et convers noir qu'elle avait avec elle. Puis elle a jeté ses vêtements d'entraînement dans un sac avec ses chaussures de tennis. Kali marchait rapidement vers Comet Dorm, ne voulant pas faire attendre Dean. "Hé bébé!" Il l'a appelée. "Hé," Elle a souri, Kali a vraiment aimé quand il l'a appelée bébé. C'était quelque chose à propos de la façon dont il l'a dit qui a fait Kali se sentir spécial. Bien sûr qu'elle n'est pas la seule qu'il appelle "babe", mais c'est le seul à l'avoir appelée comme ça. "Comment ça s'est passé loin de moi? Des nouvelles sur les fêtes? Je n'ai rien entendu, mais j'ai l'impression d'avoir été plutôt hors de question récemment. Vous avez l'air bien." Il s'est moqué de Kali. "C'était plutôt ennuyeux sans toi." Kali gémit. Elle détestait s'ennuyer. « Quant aux parties, j'ai entendu dire qu'une troisième année de lycée où il y aura une grande fête dans l'un des dortoirs d'Eclipse. Je ne connais pas les détails ou quelqu'un qui y va, mais vous êtes intéressé?" Kali demanda alors qu'ils s'éloignaient du dortoir, elle laissa Dean diriger la route puisqu'elle n'avait aucune idée d'où ils allaient. En parlant de ça, "Où allons-nous?" Elle a demandé, son sac de gym se balançait dans sa main droite. Elle ne voulait pas frapper Dean, qui était sur sa gauche, avec.

Angelica "Ann" Byrd “In these times I don't, in a manner of speaking, know what I want; perhaps I don't want what I know and want what I don't know.” Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Bisexual School Year 2nd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Fall Green fruit comics Dislikes Pressure (both of the pyhysical and emotional kind) Cottage Cheese sleepless nights Hobbies Cooking Fears She has a fear of the future and where her place in will be in it. Like if she will do something big or at least meaningful, or if she'll just dissapear with the rest of history that was to mudane to remember. Personality Ann is a pretty easy person to get along with, able to start up a conversation up with just about anyone. She's also very honest with people, though she's been told that she dosn't really have any tact. Living in the moment and having fun is important to her and she easily stresses about grades, important things that need to be done, and things like that if she spends to long thinking about them. She also can't seem to really hold a grudge or stay angry for long, and even when she is angry she's not to hot tempered. Overall she's just not a serious person. Biography Ann was born to a photographer (her mom) and a history teacher (her father). Growing up she heard amazing stories of the trips her parents took after they graduated and Ann started to have dream big dreams for herself. But as she grew up her dreams started to fade away as she realized that even after her parent's amazing adventures, they had just settled down and lead ordinary lifes. Ann soon started to think that that was her fate as well, and she was unsure of how to change it. Her parents, seeing their daughter like this, decided to have her enroll into Ivy Wood Academy. After all, it was were they met and their lifes changed. While Ann was excited to be going to a new school she wasn't sure if this was the right choice for her, not acedemic wise. It was the match making part that worried her. On one hand, it would feel good to not have to worry about finding the person for her. On the other hand, Ann wasn't sure if she would feel satisfied that she hadn't put in the effort herself to find her match. But Ann wasn't about to let her mixed feelings get in the way of enjoying the adventure of a new school so she packed her bags and set out for Ivy Wood Academy.

Niall Chrstianson Bureau d'appariement Niall n'a attendu que quelques instants avant d'entendre une série de pas à l'extérieur. Ils étaient de légers pas, non pas dures ou bouleversés, mais rapides et presque excités sonnant. Cependant, ils ont hésité avant que le bruit de la porte s'ouvre et la pièce remplie d'air extérieur plus chaud rempli de différentes senteurs. Il a inhalé, certainement une femme, il a gardé le dos tourné comme s'il ne pouvait pas entendre la fille, Amanda. Il était reconnaissant qu'il se soit souvenu de se raser ce matin maintenant. Il était presque un peu nerveux, mais la bête l'a écarté, lui rappelant qui et ce qu'il était. Il avait apaisé le loup presque dans un sommeil, mais il avait réveillé, une présence constante dans son esprit et son corps. Il pouvait sentir l'arrêt d'air comme elle hésitait avant de se rapprocher et de parler. "Hé, vous êtes Niall?" vint une belle voix qui lui rappela le doux cou des colombes qui étaient des vues fréquentes sur le territoire de son sac. Il a presque été surpris mais a gardé son visage calme. Il a baissé les manches du t-shirt noir qu'il avait mis pour cacher ce qu'il pouvait cacher de ses tatouages, parfois ils pouvaient effrayer les gens. Il se retourna dans un mouvement assez rapide, tournant un peu sur son talon pour faire face à la fille. Il était tellement habitué aux femmes de son sac étant au moins légèrement grand, environ cinq pieds dix, quand il a dû regarder presque tout droit vers le bas, il a été un peu surpris par combien cette fille était petite. Il était bien plus grand qu'elle, sinon plus grand qu'elle. Elle était mince et presque délicate, ressemblant à une fleur aux longs cheveux moyens foncés. Il a fait de son mieux pour garder son visage aussi amical que possible. Il lui sourit : « Oui, je le suis. Vous devez être Amanda, c'est sympa de vous rencontrer enfin. Je suis désolé de ne pas avoir pu être ici plus tôt, j'avais quelques choses à faire."

Amanda James "I think that 'Weird' is great. It leads to new things and possibilities." Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/romantic School Year College First Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes ♡Cute things ♡Desserts ♡Being Herself Dislikes ♤Dark Chocolate ♤Bullies ♤Extremely narrow minded people ♤Avacados Hobbies ♢Writing ♢Doing DIY projects Fears •Giant Bugs •Being completely alone in the world. (In all aspects) Personality Amanda is a girl who definitely marches to the beat of her own drum. She loves cracking jokes and making stupid puns just because she likes putting smiles on people's faces. She is a girl who is generally happy and looks for the good in things. Though she isn't always so confident. There are times where she doesn't feel good enough to be with those around her and she hides away for a day or 2. Amanda is also a bit stubborn at times. Biography Amanda has led a normal life. She hasn't done anything over the top (at least by her standards) that would be considered different. She has had crushes and the occasional broken heart but usually has managed to bounce back from those seemingly untouched. Coming from a middle class family,  she managed to get a scholarship to Ivy Wood and continues to try and make her family proud, and maybe find a companion along the way.

Bureau d'Amanda JamesMatch "Ça s'est bien passé, j'étais un peu en retard pour arriver ici." Elle sourit un peu, frottant l'arrière de son cou. -- Tout d'abord, je vous garantis que je n'ai pas 12 ans, mais, en fait, 18 ans. La fille plus courte plaisante à la légère. Son visage de bébé l'a généralement retenue et interrogée avant d'être finalement autorisée à entrer. Elle l'a inspecté et a trouvé que son match était attrayant physiquement. Elle ne pouvait que rêver qu'il avait une personnalité à égaler. Elle se demande brièvement ce qu'ils devraient faire avant de le regarder à nouveau. Elle aurait dû porter des talons. "Y a - t - il quelque chose que vous voulez faire en particulier? " Elle a demandé un peu curieusement. Peu de choses ont traversé son esprit à la possibilité de ce qu'ils pourraient faire pour apprendre à se connaître. Peut-être qu'elle devrait commencer une conversation sur leurs intérêts. "Alors Niall, qu'aimes-tu faire pour t'amuser?" Elle a demandé après qu'un petit silence soit tombé sur eux. C'était peut-être un écrivain comme elle et Magdaline. Ou peut-être qu'ils n'étaient pas son truc. Elle était sûre qu'elle ne préférait pas les entrevues qu'elle avait menées avec l'école en ligne. Amanda sentit la nervosité mise en place, et avec cela vint le besoin de remplir le silence. Alors qu'elle pouvait résister plutôt bien à l'envie, cela ne voulait pas dire qu'elle ne pouvait pas commencer accidentellement à trop parler. "Je, euh, ne sais pas vraiment mon chemin, donc je ne suis pas trop familier avec ce que nous pourrions faire ici."

Amanda James "I think that 'Weird' is great. It leads to new things and possibilities." Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/romantic School Year College First Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes ♡Cute things ♡Desserts ♡Being Herself Dislikes ♤Dark Chocolate ♤Bullies ♤Extremely narrow minded people ♤Avacados Hobbies ♢Writing ♢Doing DIY projects Fears •Giant Bugs •Being completely alone in the world. (In all aspects) Personality Amanda is a girl who definitely marches to the beat of her own drum. She loves cracking jokes and making stupid puns just because she likes putting smiles on people's faces. She is a girl who is generally happy and looks for the good in things. Though she isn't always so confident. There are times where she doesn't feel good enough to be with those around her and she hides away for a day or 2. Amanda is also a bit stubborn at times. Biography Amanda has led a normal life. She hasn't done anything over the top (at least by her standards) that would be considered different. She has had crushes and the occasional broken heart but usually has managed to bounce back from those seemingly untouched. Coming from a middle class family,  she managed to get a scholarship to Ivy Wood and continues to try and make her family proud, and maybe find a companion along the way.

En dehors du dortoir du Croissant William n'a pas eu son nom, mais au lieu de cela, « Là où on ne peut pas entrer, il est sûr d'attendre ; la patience est toujours récompensée ». Perplexion ridé son front - était-ce une énigme qu'il était censé déchiffrer? Le sens était assez clair, mais la façon dont il a été transmis... qui l'a confondu. Au moment où il a réussi à effacer l'expression de son visage cependant, la fille était partie, chat dans le remorquage. En frottant la nuque, William trouva un mur contre lequel il se penchait. Elle ne lui avait pas expressément dit d'être parti, avait parlé de patience, alors attendez qu'il l'ait fait, pendant dix minutes pour passer. Quand la fille est revenue du dortoir, William s'est poussé du mur, son sac se balançait derrière lui. Ses cheveux, longs et soyeux, lui ont brossé le bas du dos. Même de loin, il pouvait voir des lèvres noires et de longs cils pendant que le regard de la fille balayait la cour. Il clignait momentanément sur elle, prenant dans les détails de son apparence, avant de se rappeler de rassembler ses pieds et de faire quelques pas vers elle, un sourire doux sur son visage. En regardant ses affaires, il a offert des paumes ouvertes, mais il ne s'attendait pas à ce qu'on lui remette des livres. C'était un étranger, après tout, et elle ne semblait pas être le type de confiance. Mais peu importe si c'est le cas. "Vous ne m'avez toujours pas dit votre nom," a-t-il dit, un côté de ses lèvres se fronçant vers le haut d'une manière presque taquine. Tournant sur son talon pour faire face à la porte du Dortoir du Croissant, il a hurlé sur le chemin. "Où vas-tu?"

Name: Imogen Carlisle Quote “You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching, Love like you'll never be hurt, Sing like there's nobody listening, And live like it's heaven on earth.” ― William W. Purkey Age 17 Gender Female from birth Sexual/Romantic Preference Straight (is that what you mean) School Year High school: 3rd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Colour likes Lime green Blue Red Colour Dislikes Pink Orange Brown Fears Drowning Being lonely for the rest of her life Personality Imogen in kind, loving, compassionate, trustworthy and overprotective. The only time she gets angry and aggressive is if you do something towards some one she cares about. She may seem happy on the outside but if you delve deep into her eyes you can see she is not. She is lonely and out for love. She doesn't seem to care for herself only others. She loves to draw and play the piano. She has a bad memory so she often forgets things if you don't remind her. She hates to fight people, so she has no fighting skills. Biography She parents died in a car crash when she was 8 and she has been living with her aunt for the rest of the years, with her 6 sisters and her one brother. She is the 7th daughter of the 7th daughter. In her earlier years she didn't understand why everyone else had a mother and father to go to there things but she only had an aunt. She found it hard to concentrate in school, because her head kept on flashing back to the day when the cop came to the door and told them the news. Her favourite subjects had always been English and art. Extras She can turn into any animal other then a lion, tiger or bear, OH MY! Species Shapeshifter Abilities Telepathy Fire manipulation shapeshifting Weaknesses Can sometimes reads someones mind when she doesn't want too Sometimes when shes angry things can catch fire

Niall Christianson Bureau d'appariement Niall lâcha un ronflement qui était un peu proche d'un grognement à son goût, mais il la regarda attentivement, il put dire qu'elle était nerveuse. "Ça ne m'a jamais traversé l'esprit que tu étais si jeune." Il est revenu à Amanda. Maintenant qu'elle l'avait mentionné, il a noté qu'elle semblait très jeune, mais c'était plus un truc de taille que trop d'un visage de bébé. Elle était très petite. Il a pensé un moment qu'il pouvait l'emballer pendant des jours sur son dos sans la fatiguer, elle était si petite. Quand elle a commencé à poser des questions, il avait un besoin soudain de la calmer, il pouvait sentir la nervosité maintenant. La nervosité était quelque chose qu'elle devait apprendre à se cacher si elle rentrait avec lui. Il a assez excité son propre loup pour faire de son acier sa volonté et garder son loup en contrôle afin qu'il ne lui fasse pas peur. « J'aime faire de la randonnée et passer du temps dans les bois sur le campus. Je suis aussi une cuirasse et des peaux d'animaux tannées et je fais des vêtements et d'autres choses." Lorsqu'elle a expliqué qu'elle était nouvelle et qu'elle ne savait pas où rien n'était encore et ce qu'il y avait à faire autour du campus, il a compris le sentiment. "C'est très bien, je connais assez bien mon chemin maintenant. Qu'est-ce que tu penses d'aller faire un peu de marche et d'obtenir quelque chose à manger?" Il s'est interrogé pour essayer de calmer sa nervosité.

Amanda James "I think that 'Weird' is great. It leads to new things and possibilities." Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/romantic School Year College First Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes ♡Cute things ♡Desserts ♡Being Herself Dislikes ♤Dark Chocolate ♤Bullies ♤Extremely narrow minded people ♤Avacados Hobbies ♢Writing ♢Doing DIY projects Fears •Giant Bugs •Being completely alone in the world. (In all aspects) Personality Amanda is a girl who definitely marches to the beat of her own drum. She loves cracking jokes and making stupid puns just because she likes putting smiles on people's faces. She is a girl who is generally happy and looks for the good in things. Though she isn't always so confident. There are times where she doesn't feel good enough to be with those around her and she hides away for a day or 2. Amanda is also a bit stubborn at times. Biography Amanda has led a normal life. She hasn't done anything over the top (at least by her standards) that would be considered different. She has had crushes and the occasional broken heart but usually has managed to bounce back from those seemingly untouched. Coming from a middle class family,  she managed to get a scholarship to Ivy Wood and continues to try and make her family proud, and maybe find a companion along the way.

Bureau d'Amanda JamesMatch Il devait être à demi-giant ou quelque chose comme ça. Non pas que c'était un problème, elle préférait les gars du côté plus grand, mais... son cou lui ferait mal après un moment de la regarder. Elle se sentait mal pour lui, prenant part à la faute dans son esprit. Elle a levé un sourcil et a été un peu surprise.  "Sur le chemin de l'entrée, certaines personnes m'ont demandé si j'étais au collège." Elle s'est ridiculisée. "C'est aussi une sorte de force d'habitude. Je ne peux pas l'aider quand je rencontre de nouvelles personnes et il n'est pas évident que je suis plus âgé que ce que la plupart pensent en se basant sur mon look si jeune. » Elle plaisantait avec un petit rire. Amanda a fait signe alors qu'il répondait à sa question. "Je vois. J'aime les bois ici, je n'ai jamais vraiment fait de randonnées, ainsi que des forges en cuir. Qu'est-ce que tu fabriques d'autre avec ton cuir? » Amanda s'est tapotée mentalement sur le dos pour avoir commencé la conversation. Sa tentative de l'apaiser a fonctionné un peu, elle s'est presque visiblement calmée à la mention d'une promenade et éventuellement d'attraper de la nourriture après. "C'est une bonne idée, Niall." Elle a fait l'éloge, se tournant sur son talon. Elle s'en sortait bien jusqu'ici. Il n'avait pas l'air ennuyé non plus, alors elle devait faire quelque chose de bien. Elle se demande ce qu'elle demandera s'il y a un autre silence. Peut-être que sa nourriture préférée ou peut-être ce qu'il a le moins à faire était.

Amanda James "I think that 'Weird' is great. It leads to new things and possibilities." Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/romantic School Year College First Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes ♡Cute things ♡Desserts ♡Being Herself Dislikes ♤Dark Chocolate ♤Bullies ♤Extremely narrow minded people ♤Avacados Hobbies ♢Writing ♢Doing DIY projects Fears •Giant Bugs •Being completely alone in the world. (In all aspects) Personality Amanda is a girl who definitely marches to the beat of her own drum. She loves cracking jokes and making stupid puns just because she likes putting smiles on people's faces. She is a girl who is generally happy and looks for the good in things. Though she isn't always so confident. There are times where she doesn't feel good enough to be with those around her and she hides away for a day or 2. Amanda is also a bit stubborn at times. Biography Amanda has led a normal life. She hasn't done anything over the top (at least by her standards) that would be considered different. She has had crushes and the occasional broken heart but usually has managed to bounce back from those seemingly untouched. Coming from a middle class family,  she managed to get a scholarship to Ivy Wood and continues to try and make her family proud, and maybe find a companion along the way.

Max Patel Dormes d'éclipse "Y a-t-il quelque chose que vous aimeriez faire?" Je ne sais pas vraiment quel est le protocole avec les nouveaux... colocataires?" Max s'est retourné dans la conversation, brisant finalement le contact visuel avec Becca. « Eh bien, je voulais déballer d'abord », a-t-il dit en me levant et en poussant dans sa chaise. Il avait l'intention d'aller à la table, mais Becca l'avait battu. Il est retourné dans sa chambre et a mieux regardé. Becca s'était déjà installé apparemment et il pouvait dire que toutes ses affaires étaient déjà déballées. Attends, alors ils allaient partager cette pièce? Il a jeté un coup d'œil sur le grand lit king-size. Ils allaient dormir dans le même lit? Il est sorti de la chambre et est retourné dans la cuisine. "Uh... Becca? Tu es sûre de vouloir dormir dans la même chambre? Sommes-nous prêts pour cela?" il demanda nerveusement, se griffant la tête de la main gauche. Il pensait que ce n'était pas si grave s'ils ne faisaient rien... Mais ça serait gênant. Cependant, si elle était d'accord avec cet arrangement, il s'en occuperait. Il a été un peu choqué par la rapidité de leur relation.

Niall Christianson “Happiness can be found even in the darkest times if one only remembers to turn on the light.” - Dumbledore, JK Rowling Age 20 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Straight/Can be romantic when he chooses to be School Year College 2nd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Working out, hunting with his pack, women Dislikes People he deems have no common sense, people that are weak, especially males, the color yellow, mustard yellow in particular Hobbies Hunting, working out, tracking Fears Being challenged when he becomes Alpha, not finding a match Personality Niall is very logical, even when he might not seem that way. He does everything for a very specific reason. He can be romantic when he wishes to be and can be quite charming at times. However his instincts do sway him a lot of the time, there is only so much control a wolf can have. He does his best not to let the wolf show when he's around other people, humans especially but he can be rather volatile as he doesn't have a mate. One thing to note, never run from him. Ever. Walk away if you must but never run. Niall can also be very possessive as most canids can tend to be. It isn't really ever advisable to touch anything that he considers to be his. This can be items, clothes, or even other individuals. Biography Niall was born into a relatively large pack, a 147 members at the time of his birth. Their numbers are slightly less now hovering around a 120 members or so give or take some floater wolves. Niall's father Keenan is the current reigning Alpha of the pack and has been for the last 70 years or so. Niall, of course, being the Alpha's son lived the good life. He was well protected and had everything he could possibly want. However, with the position comes responsibilities, like learning to fight your way out of mess and talk your way out of one too. One must be a warrior and a diplomat all at the same time. Niall wanted for nothing but spend the majority of his time training and learning from his father. As the oldest son Niall will take the throne when he is deemed ready and has completed the mating ceremony. This requirement is what brought him to Ivy Wood Academy. Non-Human Information Species Lycanthrope, Loup Garou Abilities Niall has a secondary form that is a canid-like creature with no current scientific classification. Weaknesses Niall has a mild allergy to silver, it gives him a rash and makes him itchy when it touches his skin. If pure silver were to get into his bloodstream it would kill him. Other than that only severing his spinal cord will kill him. Extras Niall, is the Alpha's oldest son. As such he is the heir and is expected the find a mate and take the position of Alpha when his father deems him ready.

Steven Rite Dortoir de la comète Steven n'avait pas grand-chose à faire, et il aimait ça. Il s'assit à son bureau, écouteurs dans, faisant sauter chaque album Tool, dans l'ordre, à plein volume. Il avait travaillé sur le même dessin pour ce qui semblait être la dernière heure, frustré par la haine absolue qu'il avait pour dessiner des animaux."Pourquoi ai-je pensé que c'était une bonne idée?" Steven murmura à lui-même, tout en se reposant le front dans sa main droite et en regardant vers le bas l'excuse pitoyable du réalisme. Il s'était donné un défi, et il avait perdu une heure à y manquer, du moins, c'est ce qu'il ressentait. Il soupira, arrachant le dessin pitoyable d'un chien hors du bureau, le grimpant, et le jetant dans une petite poubelle, presque rempli au bord avec des rappels que Steven Rite ne pouvait pas dessiner des chiens. Steven a enlevé son téléphone de son bureau, où il a joué les sons de "sultre" de Maynard, et a éteint la musique. Pendant un certain temps, il avait été curieux de savoir avec qui il serait jumelé, mais avec l'absence de toute parole à ce sujet, il avait commencé à perdre espoir. Cependant, Steven était confus quant à la raison pour laquelle il perdait espoir, car il avait pensé qu'il n'y avait aucun intérêt. Peut-être que je suis juste curieux? Oui, c'est ça, juste curieux. Il pensait à lui-même, tout en marchant dans le silence total. Steven ne voulait pas s'y attarder longtemps, et donc, il a décidé qu'il avait besoin d'air frais. Il a rapidement nettoyé son bureau, a visé quelques mots de choix à la poubelle du mécontentement, et est parti.

Steven Rite "I have nothing to say, though, I'll probably end up saying something stupid anyway." Age 17 Sex/Gender Identity Male Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual School Year Highschool 3rd year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes Card Games Drawing Thinking Order Dislikes Assholes Mischief Disorder Loud noises Himself Hobbies Drawing Playing card games (TCGs and such) Fears Judgement- If there is anything that Steven is afraid of, it's how others view him, though he always feels this fear is irrational, and what other people think doesn't matter, he always finds himself worrying about what everyone else thinks. Personality Steven is awkward, to say the least. He always worries about what others think, but tends towards the most odd, and painful jokes and statements. He just isn't good with other people, unless those people are on the other side of a table, holding a hand of cards. He always ends up relying on others to accept him for the awkward, hopeless loser that he his. Though, he does have traits he considers to be worthwhile. He's dependable, trustworthy, and logical. He believes he can at least hold up an intelligent conversation, even if he isn't that interesting of a person. Biography Steven was born into a rather normal family, and has so far lived a rather unassuming life. His parents had boring office jobs, and he had no siblings. Most of the time, he would sit at home, play games on his computer, and clean. He wasn't very talkative until middle school, where people would laugh at how weird he was around others. Only a few people accepted him for who he was, but he thought they only did so out of pity. He hated others, and he hated himself. He wasted time by sitting around doing nothing, but thinking about everything. Over time, he started playing card games with a group of friends at their local card shop. During this time, he stopped being so bitter, but he still acknowledged the fact that he was flawed. There was no reason to be mad at the world, as there was no way he could change it. When Steven was sent off to Ivy Wood Academy, he was in full support of the match system, even though it would probably never help him in any way. Extras None

Niall Christianson Bureau de correspondance - Bois Niall regarda Amanda attentivement, quand elle le traita de menteur, il fut tout à fait surpris. Personne ne l'avait jamais appelé d'une telle manière, on n'a tout simplement pas appelé l'héritier à un paquet aussi substantiel que son propre menteur à leur visage. Il a commencé à s'offenser et s'est souvenu de qui il avait affaire. Il était parmi les humains et ils se disaient ces choses en plaisanterie les uns aux autres tandis que les Lycans ne faisaient pas quelque chose de cette nature à moins qu'ils ne voulaient un combat. Bien sûr, tout cela n'a pris que quelques instants. "Je ne pense pas qu'une telle chose, je ne pense pas qu'ils me joindraient à quelqu'un tellement plus jeune que moi." Niall lui a riposté avec un sourire facile. Il a essayé de garder son visage ouvert et amical, les choses étaient beaucoup moins compliquées avec son propre genre que avec les humains. Il a fait le pas qui l'amenait à la porte et l'ouvrait, en lui donnant la gestuelle de sortir de la porte devant lui. "Je peux faire toutes sortes de vêtements ou de packs, même des portefeuilles et certains d'entre eux je laisse les cheveux et les vends comme des cheveux sur des peaux bronzées. Ils sont très populaires avec certaines personnes. Ce n'est pas grand chose si vous n'avez pas déjà fait de randonnées. On peut aller se promener aujourd'hui." Il était assez facile à aller la plupart du temps, surtout ici à l'école où il ne s'est pas constamment prouvé d'avoir la force de gouverner la meute. C'était plutôt sympa, mais son rôle était beaucoup moins défini ici. À la maison, tout le monde avait sa place et les choses étaient beaucoup plus simples. Il marcha aussi lentement qu'il put avec sa longue marche, mais se dirigea vers le bord des bois, puis s'arrêta un instant. Il l'emmenait sur un sentier jusqu'au lac et retour. C'était probablement un mile aller-retour, rien de trop dur pour lui.

Amanda James "I think that 'Weird' is great. It leads to new things and possibilities." Age 18 Sex/Gender Identity Female Sexual/Romantic Preference Heterosexual/romantic School Year College First Year Pro/Anti/Neutral Match Likes ♡Cute things ♡Desserts ♡Being Herself Dislikes ♤Dark Chocolate ♤Bullies ♤Extremely narrow minded people ♤Avacados Hobbies ♢Writing ♢Doing DIY projects Fears •Giant Bugs •Being completely alone in the world. (In all aspects) Personality Amanda is a girl who definitely marches to the beat of her own drum. She loves cracking jokes and making stupid puns just because she likes putting smiles on people's faces. She is a girl who is generally happy and looks for the good in things. Though she isn't always so confident. There are times where she doesn't feel good enough to be with those around her and she hides away for a day or 2. Amanda is also a bit stubborn at times. Biography Amanda has led a normal life. She hasn't done anything over the top (at least by her standards) that would be considered different. She has had crushes and the occasional broken heart but usually has managed to bounce back from those seemingly untouched. Coming from a middle class family,  she managed to get a scholarship to Ivy Wood and continues to try and make her family proud, and maybe find a companion along the way.

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 "Richard! Sors tes fesses du lit, tu vas être en retard!" Richard Calhoun gémit et roula, poussant sa couverture de côté, et glissa lentement hors du lit et jusqu'à une position debout. "Oui, maman," il bourdonnait à moitié dans la direction de l'escalier menant à la cuisine. Il est tombé de sa chambre, de l'autre côté du hall et dans la salle de bains pour éclabousser de l'eau et son visage et se brosser les dents. Le rituel du matin a officiellement commencé il a commencé à se sentir un peu plus vivant, plus humain, et en quelques minutes était de retour dans sa chambre, alerte, et l'habillage pour l'école. "Richard! Est-ce que tu es debout?" "Oui, je suis presque habillée", a-t-il rappelé et roulé les yeux. "Je sais que tu as roulé les yeux", a crié sa mère et il a cogné. Il a mis ses bottes et a tiré ses menottes de jean sur le dessus d'eux. T-shirt noir simple avec un bouton ouvert vers le bas chemise tiré dessus et il était prêt à partir. Il descendit l'escalier, les bottes enfilaient fort sur la surface en bois, et s'occupait de la cuisine comme une boule d'épave fugueuse. Sa mère a crié alors qu'il filait rapidement sur son talon, évitant étroitement de s'écraser sur elle et l'assiette de la nourriture dans ses mains. "Richard!" Elle a pleuré. "Désolé, maman. Il faut que j'y aille en retard." Il lui a pris l'assiette, empilé haut avec du bacon et des œufs brouillés et l'a posé sur l'île centrale des cuisines. Oeufs sur le dessus de toast, bacon sur le dessus d'oeufs, toast sur le dessus de bacon. Enveloppez tout et il avait un beau bacon et un sandwich à l'oeuf à emporter. -- A plus tard, dit-il, l'embrassa sur la joue et était dehors avant qu'elle n'ait eu la chance de réagir. Richard a pris une grosse bouchée de son sandwich et a couru à travers la bande d'herbe séparant sa maison des voisins. Il la connaissait depuis des années, son meilleur ami depuis qu'il avait 4 ans. "SOPHIE!" Il a soufflé et frappé à la porte d'entrée d'un poing fermé. "Allez! Nous allons être en retard pour l'école!"

Name: Mina Cain (Can be called Min) Gender: Straight female Age: 14 Appearance: Picture Above Background: Mina is very much like a kuudere (only occasionally shows her caring side), and because of this, she acts very cold to others. This is only because her father passed away when Mina was only 3 due to cancer, and her mother passed away three years later in a car accident. Relations: Because Mina is a kuudere, she does not have any friends. She will reply with one-word phrases if someone talks to her, but as soon as she becomes friends with somebody, she’ll be like an open book. Power:

La journée a commencé avec les airs mélodiques d'une chanson filtrant à partir d'un téléphone qui était couché sur le sol. Les notes montèrent régulièrement dans le terrain, perçant dans le sommeil et le rêve. Il a continué pendant plusieurs secondes, puis, à partir du paquet enchevêtré de draps et de couvertures qui ont été répartis à travers le matelas adjacent, un seul bras a émergé et a commencé à tâtonner vers la source de l'irritant. Un bruit de grognement fort, provenant du lit de l'autre côté de la pièce, s'est joint à la chanson, puis les deux ont été amenés à une fin. Avec l'état auditif de la pièce retourné au silence désirable, le bras se replia dans son havre. Pendant plusieurs minutes, le monticule est resté intact, puis une forme a commencé à pousser vers le haut près du bord supérieur, se percutant finalement à la surface. Sophia cligne des clins d'œil, frottant les yeux pendant qu'elle bâille, puis retombe sur le lit. Elle y est restée encore quelques minutes, grogneant intérieurement à elle-même sur les inconvénients de se réveiller. La raison et l'habitude ont finalement gagné, et elle s'est réveillée à nouveau, se désenchantant de la pile de draps et faisant lentement son chemin vers les escaliers du sous-sol. Le seul occupant de la cuisine à son arrivée était son oncle Joseph, sirotant un peu de thé alors qu'il étudiait sa tablette. Il leva les yeux quand elle arriva, et retourna vers l'escalier. "Règles, Madame. Mets une chemise avant de monter. Sophia s'arrêta, puis souffla un souffle à travers ses lèvres et retourna dans la chambre d'amis qu'elle partageait avec sa mère, creusant un t-shirt dans un panier de linge sale. Maintenant au moins vêtue, elle est retournée à la cuisine et a donné à son oncle une présentation fictive, comme pour dire « là, heureux maintenant? » Joseph fit un bref coup d'œil à sa nièce, puis retourna à l'article sur sa tablette. Son ton sec, et le sourire sur leurs deux visages, suggéraient que cette interaction était un rituel presque quotidien pour eux, un rituel qui avait souvent été répété au fil des ans. Une violation subtile et l'application des règles. Le reste de la matinée se passa en silence, tandis que Sophia préparait son propre petit déjeuner d'oeufs, toastait avec du fromage et de la confiture, et une pomme coupée en tranches. Joseph est resté assis un peu plus longtemps, puis a glissé sa tablette dans son sac à dos et a fait son chemin vers la porte d'entrée. À tout à l'heure, Lady.Sophie lui donna une vague paresseuse, puis se frotta les yeux et retourna à son repas. Nettoyer et glisser dans les escaliers, elle s'est changée en vêtements de course et s'est glissée dehors, ligotant ses cheveux dans une queue de cheval. L'air était plutôt vif, et le soleil était un peu plus qu'un éclat à l'horizon alors qu'elle s'étirait. En donnant une paire d'écouteurs et en sélectionnant une playlist, elle a mis son téléphone dans la poche arrière de son short et s'est mise au jogging. Six tours dans le quartier plus tard (elle en faisait normalement cinq, mais avait eu envie de se pousser ce matin-là), elle rentrait chez elle, maintenant complètement trempée de sueur, quand elle espionnait Richard en train de frapper sur sa porte d'entrée. Un sourire sournois a traversé son visage, et elle a commencé à ramper derrière lui. Elle s'arrêta seulement quand la porte s'ouvrit, révélant sa tante Kailey. Elle a appuyé un doigt sur ses lèvres, et sa tante a souri. Un peu tôt le matin pour faire autant de racket, n'est-ce pas Richard? Sophia'll sera là dans un instant. Avant que le garçon ne puisse répondre, Sophia sauta sur son dos et lui bourdonna la joue dans le cou, frémissant contentement.

Name: Sophia Callahan Gender: female Age: 15 Sophia is shorter than average, in fact she has never met anyone who could look her in the eye without looking down or bending their legs. Her face is very expressive, particularly her grey eyes, due to it being one of her primary ways of communicating. She has a very lithe, slightly muscular build from all the running and climbing she does. Because of her active lifestyle, she prefers to wear t-shirts, shorts, and running shoes or hiking boots. She also wears a shark-tooth necklace. Personality: Sophia doesn’t speak. Period. She has not spoken so much as a single word her entire life, and it is not known whether this is due to some unknown brain condition, or if she simply chooses not to. Regardless, this does not seem to hamper her much, as she always finds some other way to communicate what she wants to others. She’s also very active and athletic, usually going on a run before school, participating in her school’s track team, as well as being a parkour expert; if she doesn’t want to be caught, then no one can catch her short of flying. She’s also recently started teaching herself MMA, mostly by watching videos on the interwebs. Because of her apparent “disability”, she is subject to a fair degree of ridicule and teasing, particularly from those who believe that she just chooses not to speak (her most common nickname is “Silent Sophy”). Her typical responses to this are scathing looks, sarcastic comments delivered via a text-to-speech app on her phone that she had downloaded, and rude gestures delivered at point blank range. In fact, Sophia doesn’t seem to place much, if any great importance on personal space; she loves to communicate through physical contact, particularly with hugs, slight caresses, or drawing on someone’s skin. However, she will give space if she sees that her actions are making the recipient particularly uncomfortable. Those who know her know that this is just her way of demonstrating affection. Background: At the tender age of 18, Madeline Callahan left her small town roots and made her way to the sunny shores of California, in pursuit of great dreams, good friends and a bright future. Upon arrival, she promptly shirked those dreams and indulged in every pleasure possible. She was a party girl, living the good life without a care in the world… Until reality came knocking, and she found herself pregnant. Abandoned by most of her friends, Madeline was still determined to live her life her own way. She decided to keep the baby, more or less cleaned up, and managed to support herself and her daughter, whom she named Sophia, as a waitress. It was not an easy life, but with the help of a couple remaining friends, it was a more or less good one for the first couple years. However, Madeline became troubled. Even up to the age of four, Sophia had still not spoken a single word. There didn’t seem to be any apparent medical reason preventing her from doing so, and she seemed to understand others perfectly; she just didn’t speak herself. Madeline attempted to get a speech therapist to help her daughter, however she was unable to continue paying for them. Additionally, Sophia had seemed to have inherited some of her mother’s wilful attitude, since she didn’t pay the slightest attention during the few sessions that she did have. Out of both options and money, Madeline made the grudging decision to move back home, where she has lived with her brother and sister-in-law ever since. Relationships: Richard Calhoun has been Sophia's best friend almost since the day she and her mother moved in with her uncle. People love to tease about them being an "item", and while Sophia has never said yes, she's never said no either. Powers:

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 Les yeux d'Alden s'ouvrirent aux oiseaux qui chantaient sereinement, avec des yeux à moitié lis, il regarda l'ornement doré or d'une horloge accrochée au mur en face de son lit. Cinq heures, quelques heures avant le jour de l'école. Il se leva rapidement et marcha jusqu'au travail, tournant sur le chauffage puis faisant face au verre avant de voir son visage à moitié endormi dessus. Il a soigneusement examiné son propre visage pour trouver des plis, il était beau ses cheveux était en bonne santé, et son visage aussi. Il ouvrit l'armoire qui se trouvait derrière le verre et sortit sa brosse à dents bleue et y mit du dentifrice ordinaire. Il a méticuleusement brossé chaque coin et ruse de ses dents. Ses gencives ont commencé à saigner légèrement. Alden s'est claqué la langue alors qu'il gorgait de l'eau du robinet et crachait l'eau parsemée de morceaux de son propre sang. Il s'est trop brossé, ou trop cette fois? "Alden. Etes-vous déjà debout?" Une voix appelée calmement d'en bas, c'était la voix de sa mère, "... Bien sûr que vous êtes déjà debout, voulez-vous réveiller votre sœur pour moi?" "Oui Mère." Il répondit: Alden réparait lentement l'ourlet de ses vêtements. Il portait des vêtements bien ajustés, presque comme si c'était fait à son goût. Il portait un polo sombre, un gilet bleu foncé qui s'y trouvait correctement. Il regardait le miroir dans sa chambre cette fois-ci, se léchant lentement les cheveux correctement avec ses mains. Tout ce qu'il a fait était méticuleux et réfléchi. Un petit parfum sur lui, pas trop pour sentir comme une bête sauvage, mais juste assez pour sentir quand vous passez près de lui. Il regarda le miroir sur son propre 'produit final', et un léger et sournois sourire se cramponna sur le visage. "Parfait." Il a ensuite commencé sa démarche lente vers la chambre de sa sœur, dont les portes étaient encore fermées. Alden a placé ses doigts contre le cadre de la porte rickety et a frappé trois fois, « Ohhh soeur la plus chère, c'est l'heure de l'école. » Alden a appelé entre ses coups, après un moment sans réponse Alden s'est penché contre la porte et a entendu ses soeurs ronfler doucement, "Je me laisse entrer." Il a dit qu'il était débordé avant d'aller la voir. La chambre était sombre, des vêtements parsemés partout. Bien que ce n'était pas déguisement en soi, ce n'était pas aussi bien rangé qu'il aurait dû l'être et a irrité Alden si légèrement. Il a fait une note mentale pour réparer cette pièce plus tard. Il s'élança vers les fenêtres et s'ouvrit soudain aux rideaux, les ténèbres restant dévorées par la lumière qui s'approchait. Helena, la sœur d'Alden a dit groggily. "Je ne peux pas faire ça, maman m'avait demandé de te réveiller, plus tu n'as qu'environ deux heures pour te préparer." Alden répondit, marchant maintenant vers son lit et tirant lentement ses couvertures qu'elle avait placées au-dessus de sa tête. "DEUX HEURES? Mais c'est tellement tiiime- bien, je ne peux pas gagner contre grand frère après tout." Elle répondit en se levant de son lit, puis elle étendit les bras vers Alden, « Portez-moi! » Alden soupira et lui sourit doucement, il laissa sa sœur s'appuyer sur son dos pendant qu'il la portait en bas. "Tu sens vraiment bon!" Elle m'a dit de se branler dans le dos. Il faudrait qu'il redresse ses vêtements plus tard. Après qu'il eut atteint le bas, il regarda l'horloge du grand-père dans le couloir, il était 6h15. Le temps qu'il a fallu de sa maison à l'école était d'environ 45 minutes au plus. Alden courait un peu tard, et a mordu sa propre langue à son retard. Il avait voulu atteindre au moins à 6h30. Il a décidé d'avoir un sandwich matinal d'oeufs et de bacon. Son déjeuner était déjà bien préparé dans son sac à dos. Il a compté son stationnaire et il avait trois de chacun, trois stylos, crayons, caoutchoucs et ainsi de suite. Ses devoirs étaient rangés sur le côté à côté de ses livres. Le petit déjeuner a pris environ 20 minutes, principalement à cause de la lenteur avec laquelle il a mangé. "Je vais y aller." Alden a dit de regarder en arrière sa mère et sa sœur, qui l'ont tous deux agité. Le trajet était horrible, Alden a été jeté autour de l'ancien train, légèrement heurté à des passagers aléatoires. Son œil secoua chaque fois qu'il entra en collision avec un étranger, et fit une autre note mentale pour examiner son apparence. Il a essayé de concentrer toute son attention sur le livre sur ses mains, "Hitchhiker's guide to the Galaxy." mais ne pouvait pas à cause de toutes les odeurs et les bruits qui polluent autour de lui. Dès que l'annonceur a mentionné sa station, il a fermé son livre avec un huff et est parti. Il regarda sa montre à 7 h 30. Il a mordu les lèvres cette fois, il était hors de sa portée d'une heure entière. Même si l'école commençait dans environ 45 minutes, il était encore dans la détresse, une autre note mentale pour mieux gérer son temps plus tard. Il se tenait devant les portes encore fermées de l'école, et soupirait à lui-même. Il avait un peu de temps avant que tout commence, donc il a eu le livre qu'il essayait de lire dans le train et s'est penché contre le mur. Il a remarqué sur sa vision périphérique qu'une fille de son école est arrivée plus tôt que lui. Avec un autre soupir, il a mordu sa langue une fois de plus, comment quelqu'un aurait pu être là plus tôt que lui. La fille était Mina Cain, tristement célèbre pour être une reine de glace ou alors les rumeurs disent. Alden n'a pas vraiment écouté les rumeurs, mais n'a toujours pas interagi avec elle, ne faisant que faire connaître sa présence par une légère toux avant de casser son regard d'elle à son livre. Comme Alden détestait être "dernier".

Name: Alden Sebastian Gender: Male Age: 16 Appearance: Alden stands at about 5'8". His body is kept at the fit side of things, as Alden cares about his appearance the most. He dresses prim and posh. Most of his effort goes towards his clothing and fashion sense. He gravitates towards black and a darkish hue of blue. His hair is a dark maroon brown, which is always properly styled. The most outstanding feature are his teal-coloured eyes, the eyes almost seem to pierce right through you. It seems that he is also fairly attractive according to some of his classmates, but he simply scoffs at this. Personality: Alden had become a perfectionist over the years, because of him secretly striving for his parents attention. Everything he does, he tries to do to the best of his capabilities. Whenever something doesn't perfectly fit the scenario in his mind, he becomes visibly irritated, clicking his tongue and sometimes even glaring. In the situation where everything isn't a '100%' Alden would try to strive for the 'perfect picture' in his mind. Whilst interacting with others, he can be blunt and painfully honest. Over the years he has become more intuitive because of his attitude, and so can easily pick out faults, shortcomings or problems and point it out. Occasionally even giving his two cents on how he himself would 'remedy' the situation. Because of this he tends to not have many friends, though he doesn't really care and would even sarcastically remark this. He is cited as 'attractive yet a pain in the ass' by his classmates at school. Though once you become his friends, the blunt honesty tend reduces to a minimum and you see the softer side of Alden. See that confident smile of his? It's a facade. In truth he has a side to him that he frantically tries to hide is that Alden has the tendency to blame himself, even when it isn't his fault. He is a 'self-serving martyr', so to speak. An inferiority complex of sorts which stems directly from his past. Only the closest people know this side of him, like his sister. He desperately tries to hide under a mask, the mask being actually how he wants to be. Background: Alden was born to a normal family, Quentin. His parents loved him and cared for him. Then his sister was born, he was then mostly neglected by his parents to favor his younger sister who was born a few years later after him. While he did not blame his sister for his parents actions, he blamed himself. He began performing everything perfectly, without a fault. His grades were almost always perfect as he began being more studious. Even his attention to his appearance stemmed from this. His primary thoughts were, 'Maybe if I did perfectly, they would notice, maybe...' Alden never actually realized that his parents thought he was mature enough to do things by himself. and him being a perfect little boy further proved this, with them now focusing fully on his younger sister. However due to this nature, he had become more self-dependent, and slightly arrogant and snobbish, even being sarcastic and blunt to a fault at times, pointing out inadequacy or shortcomings when he sees it because of developed habit of being 'perfect'. Relations: TBD Power: ??? Miscellanious: Theme song

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 Ses chaussures grondaient tranquillement le long du trottoir pendant qu'il marchait. Il était grand et lanky, un brouillon inébranlable qui recouvrait son menton et ses joues et une cigarette qui sortait de ses lèvres, un mince brin de fumée qui tournait dans l'air autour de sa tête. Il a pris une traînée, la cerise brûlant un moment avec brillance alors qu'il a sucé la fumée profondément dans ses poumons et a soufflé un nuage épais dans l'air glacial tôt le matin. Grandnt a flanqué le cul sur le côté et a tourné le coin, son lycée entrant en vue devant lui. Là, comme toujours, assis à côté de la porte était la même salope frigide qui a toujours refusé de lui parler. Elle avait son portable ouvert et cliquait sur quelque chose mais il ne pouvait pas être dérangé. Il devait rencontrer quelqu'un. Il est monté à la porte, toujours verrouillé, et l'a ignorée comme elle l'a ignoré. Il s'approchait des barres de métal, les doigts longs enroulant étroitement autour de la matière fraîche et s'éloignait lui-même. Dans quelques instants, il était au-dessus de la porte et a chuté de l'autre côté. "Plus tard," il murmura et marcha plus profondément dans l'école, les mains fourrées dans les poches de sa veste à fils. Il se blottit, installant son sac à dos un peu plus à l'aise sur ses épaules et se dirigea vers les gradins de l'autre côté de l'école qui sonnait d'un côté du terrain de football. "Hé," il a appelé dans l'ombre sous les gradins. "On va faire ça ou quoi?" Un gamin court et basanné portant une veste lettreman est venu en vue de sous les gradins, des sacs profonds sous ses yeux et un nerveux mis à ses épaules et position. Il a constamment déplacé ses pieds d'un pied à l'autre, les yeux se faufilant sans cesse. Il entrait dans sa poche et tirait une grosse bande de vingt billets de dollars, tous enveloppés d'une bande de caoutchouc. -- Ici, dit-il, et jeta le wad à Largent. Il l'a pris d'une main, le regardant attentivement un moment avant de hocher la tête et de farcir l'argent dans sa poche de pantalon. Il tira son autre main de sa veste et jeta un sac à sandwich rempli de diverses pilules aux couleurs vives au jock qui les attrapèrent et s'écoulèrent avant qu'on puisse dire autre chose. Grandnt lâcha son sac à dos à côté des gradins, s'appuya contre eux et jeta une cigarette du sac dans sa poche intérieure de vestes. Un briquet est venu de sa poche de jeans et avec un clic tranquille, il a ouvert la tyrolienne et a piqué la roue avec son pouce. Le briquet s'est allumé et il a touché la flamme à l'extrémité de la cigarette, puisant profondément dans la fumée chargée de poison alors qu'il attendait que le reste du corps étudiant arrive et que la classe commence. _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ -- Oh, désolé Mme Callahan, dit Richard, rougissant légèrement et se baissant les épaules alors qu'elle l'exhortait. "Nous courons un peu tard alors j'étais-" il a coupé comme un poids a soudainement atterri sur son dos et une joue trempée de sueur a été pressé contre son cou. "Gah!" Il cria et trébucha un peu avant de prendre ses pieds. "Bon Noël au chocolat sur un cracker. Tu es une pagaille en sueur Sophia," il a grondé. Il est revenu avec un bras et a pris le dos de ses cuisses, la tenant en place, et a commencé à tourner aussi vite qu'il le pouvait, riant comme un idiot jusqu'à ce qu'ils soient à la fois vertigineuses et Sophia glissa de son dos, les deux atterrissant lourdement sur la pelouse avant. Quand le monde a cessé de tourner autour de lui et qu'il avait déterminé que son sandwich avait survécu à la manoeuvre impromptue de la planche, il a grondé la chaussure de Sophia avec son pied. "Allez, Soph," dit-il. "Il faut qu'on bouge ou on va vraiment être en retard pour l'école. Je vais attendre ici." Il a levé son sandwich et a pris une autre bouchée, attendant que Sophia se fasse une idée d'elle.

Name: Sophia Callahan Gender: female Age: 15 Sophia is shorter than average, in fact she has never met anyone who could look her in the eye without looking down or bending their legs. Her face is very expressive, particularly her grey eyes, due to it being one of her primary ways of communicating. She has a very lithe, slightly muscular build from all the running and climbing she does. Because of her active lifestyle, she prefers to wear t-shirts, shorts, and running shoes or hiking boots. She also wears a shark-tooth necklace. Personality: Sophia doesn’t speak. Period. She has not spoken so much as a single word her entire life, and it is not known whether this is due to some unknown brain condition, or if she simply chooses not to. Regardless, this does not seem to hamper her much, as she always finds some other way to communicate what she wants to others. She’s also very active and athletic, usually going on a run before school, participating in her school’s track team, as well as being a parkour expert; if she doesn’t want to be caught, then no one can catch her short of flying. She’s also recently started teaching herself MMA, mostly by watching videos on the interwebs. Because of her apparent “disability”, she is subject to a fair degree of ridicule and teasing, particularly from those who believe that she just chooses not to speak (her most common nickname is “Silent Sophy”). Her typical responses to this are scathing looks, sarcastic comments delivered via a text-to-speech app on her phone that she had downloaded, and rude gestures delivered at point blank range. In fact, Sophia doesn’t seem to place much, if any great importance on personal space; she loves to communicate through physical contact, particularly with hugs, slight caresses, or drawing on someone’s skin. However, she will give space if she sees that her actions are making the recipient particularly uncomfortable. Those who know her know that this is just her way of demonstrating affection. Background: At the tender age of 18, Madeline Callahan left her small town roots and made her way to the sunny shores of California, in pursuit of great dreams, good friends and a bright future. Upon arrival, she promptly shirked those dreams and indulged in every pleasure possible. She was a party girl, living the good life without a care in the world… Until reality came knocking, and she found herself pregnant. Abandoned by most of her friends, Madeline was still determined to live her life her own way. She decided to keep the baby, more or less cleaned up, and managed to support herself and her daughter, whom she named Sophia, as a waitress. It was not an easy life, but with the help of a couple remaining friends, it was a more or less good one for the first couple years. However, Madeline became troubled. Even up to the age of four, Sophia had still not spoken a single word. There didn’t seem to be any apparent medical reason preventing her from doing so, and she seemed to understand others perfectly; she just didn’t speak herself. Madeline attempted to get a speech therapist to help her daughter, however she was unable to continue paying for them. Additionally, Sophia had seemed to have inherited some of her mother’s wilful attitude, since she didn’t pay the slightest attention during the few sessions that she did have. Out of both options and money, Madeline made the grudging decision to move back home, where she has lived with her brother and sister-in-law ever since. Relationships: Richard Calhoun has been Sophia's best friend almost since the day she and her mother moved in with her uncle. People love to tease about them being an "item", and while Sophia has never said yes, she's never said no either. Powers:

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 7 h 53 Mina a mis son ordinateur à l'écart quand elle a décidé qu'elle avait assez étudié. Trop d'études est mauvais pour le cerveau. Elle a regardé autour. Il y avait encore quelques personnes. Mina s'est ébranlée la tête. Pourquoi ces gens veulent-ils risquer d'être en retard pour les cours? Elle était sur le point de se lever et de l'étirer quand elle a entendu une toux. Elle a tourné la tête vers le son. La seule personne qui était là était un garçon. Un garçon parfait, s'il le faut. Elle ne pouvait pas repérer une seule ride dans ses vêtements, et ses cheveux étaient soigneusement peignés. Ses yeux semblaient avoir un esprit propre, car ils n'arrêtaient pas de scanner son corps, et la façon dont il tenait le livre. Pour une raison quelconque, Mina l'a aimé. Oh, elle l'adorait. Après s'être debout stupidement pendant une minute ou deux, Mina secoua la tête rapidement. Qu'est-ce qu'elle faisait? Il m'ignore exprès. Il ne veut probablement rien à voir avec moi. Elle soupira intérieurement et ramassa son sac. Elle est entrée dans l'école et tout droit vers sa première classe, Histoire 11. Elle avait dépassé une note dans ce domaine, comme elle l'avait fait avec tous les autres. Mina aimait penser que les gens étaient étonnés du fait qu'elle prenait AP Calculus en 9e année. 8 h 12 Elle s'est assise à l'avant à gauche, pour ne parler à personne. Sa note avait baissé de 2 pour cent, et elle voulait désespérément la ramener à 100. Mina a sorti son carnet d'histoire, et ses crayons et stylos soigneusement arrangés. Peut-être que la raison pour laquelle elle était si studieuse était à cause des jolis stylos qu'elle avait. Ils ne sont pas très chers, mais Mina les aime encore. Toute la classe d'Histoire, elle n'a pensé qu'à ce garçon avec le livre. Elle a essayé de creuser ses ongles dans ses paumes, en se giflant légèrement, et tout ce qu'elle pouvait penser. La seule chose qui l'a fait cesser de penser à lui, c'est quand l'enseignant a annoncé qu'il y aurait un projet de partenariat. Oh combien elle détestait les associés!

Name: Mina Cain (Can be called Min) Gender: Straight female Age: 14 Appearance: Picture Above Background: Mina is very much like a kuudere (only occasionally shows her caring side), and because of this, she acts very cold to others. This is only because her father passed away when Mina was only 3 due to cancer, and her mother passed away three years later in a car accident. Relations: Because Mina is a kuudere, she does not have any friends. She will reply with one-word phrases if someone talks to her, but as soon as she becomes friends with somebody, she’ll be like an open book. Power:

Gigotant à elle-même, Sophia sauta à ses pieds et se précipita à l'intérieur, glissant dans la salle de bains et tournant la douche sur la glace froide. Elle trembla sous le vaporisateur, défaire sa queue de cheval et secouant les cheveux. À la table de la cuisine, Madeline a fait éclater à sa fille un sourire sardonique alors qu'elle sortait de la salle de bains, ses vêtements de course trempés à travers. Il y a un changement de vêtements et une bouteille de savon dans votre sac à dos. Maintenant, l'étranglez-vous.Sophie l'a téléportée et a planté un baiser mouillé sur sa joue, l'embrassant étroitement. Très bien, allez-y. Ne faites rien que votre oncle ne ferait pas. Smirking, Sophias doigts transformé en un flou. Devriez-vous dire, "Don"t faire quoi que ce soit que je ne ferais pas"? Madeline roula les yeux, souriant tout de suite. On sait tous les deux que ça ne compte pas beaucoup. Donc mes choix sont soit tout, soit rien. Ça a l'air ennuyeux. Je pense que je vais juste faire ce que je fais. Les deux femmes gigognent, et Sophia se précipite devant la porte, s'arrêtant seulement pour prendre son sac à dos et donner un baiser à sa tante. Kailey sourit alors qu'elle agitait la paire d'adolescents. Amusez-vous, ma chérie.La réponse lui a été donnée par un sifflet court, qui semblait terriblement proche de ‘toujours', et le duo s'est mis en route. "Hé!" Sophia fouetta autour, et Madeline sourit alors qu'elle se penchait à travers la porte et lui jeta son collier. "Don" ne veut pas oublier ça! "Catching the sharktooth, Sophia l'a glissé au-dessus de sa tête et a agité. Alors que la paire marchait vers l'école, Sophia commença à signer rapidement, mal à ses yeux. Alors, tu as encore rêvé de moi?

Name: Sophia Callahan Gender: female Age: 15 Sophia is shorter than average, in fact she has never met anyone who could look her in the eye without looking down or bending their legs. Her face is very expressive, particularly her grey eyes, due to it being one of her primary ways of communicating. She has a very lithe, slightly muscular build from all the running and climbing she does. Because of her active lifestyle, she prefers to wear t-shirts, shorts, and running shoes or hiking boots. She also wears a shark-tooth necklace. Personality: Sophia doesn’t speak. Period. She has not spoken so much as a single word her entire life, and it is not known whether this is due to some unknown brain condition, or if she simply chooses not to. Regardless, this does not seem to hamper her much, as she always finds some other way to communicate what she wants to others. She’s also very active and athletic, usually going on a run before school, participating in her school’s track team, as well as being a parkour expert; if she doesn’t want to be caught, then no one can catch her short of flying. She’s also recently started teaching herself MMA, mostly by watching videos on the interwebs. Because of her apparent “disability”, she is subject to a fair degree of ridicule and teasing, particularly from those who believe that she just chooses not to speak (her most common nickname is “Silent Sophy”). Her typical responses to this are scathing looks, sarcastic comments delivered via a text-to-speech app on her phone that she had downloaded, and rude gestures delivered at point blank range. In fact, Sophia doesn’t seem to place much, if any great importance on personal space; she loves to communicate through physical contact, particularly with hugs, slight caresses, or drawing on someone’s skin. However, she will give space if she sees that her actions are making the recipient particularly uncomfortable. Those who know her know that this is just her way of demonstrating affection. Background: At the tender age of 18, Madeline Callahan left her small town roots and made her way to the sunny shores of California, in pursuit of great dreams, good friends and a bright future. Upon arrival, she promptly shirked those dreams and indulged in every pleasure possible. She was a party girl, living the good life without a care in the world… Until reality came knocking, and she found herself pregnant. Abandoned by most of her friends, Madeline was still determined to live her life her own way. She decided to keep the baby, more or less cleaned up, and managed to support herself and her daughter, whom she named Sophia, as a waitress. It was not an easy life, but with the help of a couple remaining friends, it was a more or less good one for the first couple years. However, Madeline became troubled. Even up to the age of four, Sophia had still not spoken a single word. There didn’t seem to be any apparent medical reason preventing her from doing so, and she seemed to understand others perfectly; she just didn’t speak herself. Madeline attempted to get a speech therapist to help her daughter, however she was unable to continue paying for them. Additionally, Sophia had seemed to have inherited some of her mother’s wilful attitude, since she didn’t pay the slightest attention during the few sessions that she did have. Out of both options and money, Madeline made the grudging decision to move back home, where she has lived with her brother and sister-in-law ever since. Relationships: Richard Calhoun has been Sophia's best friend almost since the day she and her mother moved in with her uncle. People love to tease about them being an "item", and while Sophia has never said yes, she's never said no either. Powers:

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 Il ne pensait pas que la reine des glaces le remarquerait, en fait, il ne pensait pas qu'elle le regarderait. Même de derrière son livre, il pouvait sentir son regard sur lui, a-t-il fait quelque chose pour le justifier? C'était pendant environ une minute, peut-être deux de lui juste debout là avec sa posture droite. Il sait que les filles le regardaient, peut-être pour ses regards, mais ont vite été découragées quand elles ont reconnu que c'était lui. Une rumeur disant qu'il était snob ou un cul, rapidement rejeté par Alden. Mais cette fille, Mina, a tardé à regarder, était bizarre, et elle l'a intrigué. Il était temps d'aller de l'avant, et rappelant rapidement son emploi du temps, il avait l'Histoire en ce moment. Plus précisément la classe 11, le sujet l'avait toujours fasciné. De vieux mémoires du passé étant écrits pour les générations futures, et une citation d'un de ses philosophes préférés, George Santayana, « Ceux qui n'apprennent pas l'histoire sont condamnés à le répéter ». Alden a pensé à l'émerveillement de cette citation tout en marchant à sa classe assignée. Sur le chemin où une personne l'a croisé, cette personne s'est moquée d'un rapide "Voyez où vous allez.", -- Non, vous m'aviez frappé, et vous avez l'audace de dire que c'était de ma faute? Alden répondit, se retournant légèrement en révélant son éblouissement. La personne a légèrement sauté en recul, et a accéléré son rythme, bouchant quelque chose dans le sens de 'C'est le bizarre perfectionniste.' Alden s'est ridiculisé et a réparé ses vêtements une fois de plus, marchant dans la classe. Dès qu'il entra dans la classe, l'étrange fille était assise sur le coin gauche des sièges avant, son regard se concentra sur elle. Il est très curieux de cette fille, donc il a pris la table à droite, et a laissé son sac sur le côté de la vieille table qui grinçait. On dirait qu'elle pensait à quelque chose, donc il n'a pas remarqué sa présence, et avec un shrug il s'est assis. La classe était normale, c'était quelque chose comme une classe d'introduction et n'était pas trop difficile à suivre. Son sourcil a soulevé au « projet de partenariat », comment Alden a complètement détesté les collaborations, en partie à cause de la façon dont son « partenaire » lui laisse habituellement tout le travail. On a même essayé de prendre tout le crédit pour le travail, mais a été fermé par lui. Dès qu'il l'a annoncé, une idée formée dans sa tête, il avait entendu que cette fille Mina était studieuse, et à cause des expériences passées a pris une courte marche à sa table. Alden avait remarqué les crayons et les stylos soignés et méticuleusement disposés, et a été légèrement impressionné par son état ordonné. Il s'est penché sur son épaule droite, surprenant potentiellement son "Position très soignée et dépouillée de vos crayons et stylos." Alden a dit, légèrement impressionné, un sourire doux se formant sur son visage alors qu'il a creusé ses yeux sarclés dans ses yeux, "Hey, sur le sujet de cette collaboration ou chose de partenariat, pourriez-vous vous associer avec moi, Mme Longing Stare?" Alden ne connaissait pas vraiment l'étiquette sociale, donc il était insupportablement proche.

Name: Alden Sebastian Gender: Male Age: 16 Appearance: Alden stands at about 5'8". His body is kept at the fit side of things, as Alden cares about his appearance the most. He dresses prim and posh. Most of his effort goes towards his clothing and fashion sense. He gravitates towards black and a darkish hue of blue. His hair is a dark maroon brown, which is always properly styled. The most outstanding feature are his teal-coloured eyes, the eyes almost seem to pierce right through you. It seems that he is also fairly attractive according to some of his classmates, but he simply scoffs at this. Personality: Alden had become a perfectionist over the years, because of him secretly striving for his parents attention. Everything he does, he tries to do to the best of his capabilities. Whenever something doesn't perfectly fit the scenario in his mind, he becomes visibly irritated, clicking his tongue and sometimes even glaring. In the situation where everything isn't a '100%' Alden would try to strive for the 'perfect picture' in his mind. Whilst interacting with others, he can be blunt and painfully honest. Over the years he has become more intuitive because of his attitude, and so can easily pick out faults, shortcomings or problems and point it out. Occasionally even giving his two cents on how he himself would 'remedy' the situation. Because of this he tends to not have many friends, though he doesn't really care and would even sarcastically remark this. He is cited as 'attractive yet a pain in the ass' by his classmates at school. Though once you become his friends, the blunt honesty tend reduces to a minimum and you see the softer side of Alden. See that confident smile of his? It's a facade. In truth he has a side to him that he frantically tries to hide is that Alden has the tendency to blame himself, even when it isn't his fault. He is a 'self-serving martyr', so to speak. An inferiority complex of sorts which stems directly from his past. Only the closest people know this side of him, like his sister. He desperately tries to hide under a mask, the mask being actually how he wants to be. Background: Alden was born to a normal family, Quentin. His parents loved him and cared for him. Then his sister was born, he was then mostly neglected by his parents to favor his younger sister who was born a few years later after him. While he did not blame his sister for his parents actions, he blamed himself. He began performing everything perfectly, without a fault. His grades were almost always perfect as he began being more studious. Even his attention to his appearance stemmed from this. His primary thoughts were, 'Maybe if I did perfectly, they would notice, maybe...' Alden never actually realized that his parents thought he was mature enough to do things by himself. and him being a perfect little boy further proved this, with them now focusing fully on his younger sister. However due to this nature, he had become more self-dependent, and slightly arrogant and snobbish, even being sarcastic and blunt to a fault at times, pointing out inadequacy or shortcomings when he sees it because of developed habit of being 'perfect'. Relations: TBD Power: ??? Miscellanious: Theme song

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 Richard toussait, s'étouffant presque sur la dernière bouchée de son sandwich et pêchait un moment, son visage devenant rouge en quelques instants. Qu'il s'agisse de l'embarras ou des morceaux de nourriture déposés dans son œsophage, c'est ce qu'on devine. "Sophie!" Il pleurnichait." C'était une fois et Tou était dans une casserole géante entourée de gobelins et de monstres." Il toussait encore quelques fois et la regardait quand elle se moquait de lui. Il n'a pas pu briller longtemps, et avant qu'ils n'aient voyagé un autre bloc, il souriait, un demi sourire tordu. "Allez, chuckles," il grondait légèrement et s'emparait de son bras. Il a commencé à faire du jogging en tirant Sophia avec lui. "Nous allons vraiment être en retard à ce stade." Ils sont arrivés à l'école avec juste assez de temps pour qu'il prenne son sac à dos de son bloqueur, est parti là la veille, et pour que Sophia change de vêtements. La première classe de la journée a passé assez vite, AP English avec Sophia jetant de petites bandes de papier sur lui tout au long de la classe. Thy a réussi à éviter d'être détenu mais Richard avait de petits bouts de papier portable coincé dans ses cheveux au moment où ils ont commencé à marcher à leur deuxième classe, Chimie. "Je déteste les tests", a-t-il marmonné. Je déteste les tests, je déteste les tests." Ils ont pris leurs sièges, à peu près au milieu de la pièce et il a regardé autour de lui pour voir cette fille Mina assis vers l'avant de la classe et parfait Alden dans un siège près d'elle. Juste avant la cloche, Largent s'est essuyé dans la pièce, en colère schowl gravé en permanence sur ses traits tranchants et Richard a fait de son mieux pour ne pas éblouir le gars. Il n'aimait pas Largent. La porte s'est ouverte un moment plus tard et un nouveau gars est entré. Il a fallu un moment à Richard pour réaliser que ce n'était pas un étudiant mais un nouvel enseignant. « Mon nom est Tristan Thorne », a-t-il dit, en écrivant son nom sur le tableau. "Mais tu peux m'appeler Om. Je remplacerai votre professeur régulier pour les prochains jours alors essayons de nous entendre et de ne pas brûler l'école, capiche?" Il avait la mâchoire carrée et les traits robustes d'un super-héros de BD et malgré une attitude amusante à l'égard de l'enseignement, Richard l'a immédiatement détesté car presque toutes les filles de la classe ont commencé à faire des yeux de lune au nouvel enseignant. Richard s'assombrit dans sa chaise et gémit tranquillement, la tête rembourrée sur ses bras croisés sur la table devant lui. "Ça va être une longue journée," a-t-il marmonné.

Name: Alden Sebastian Gender: Male Age: 16 Appearance: Alden stands at about 5'8". His body is kept at the fit side of things, as Alden cares about his appearance the most. He dresses prim and posh. Most of his effort goes towards his clothing and fashion sense. He gravitates towards black and a darkish hue of blue. His hair is a dark maroon brown, which is always properly styled. The most outstanding feature are his teal-coloured eyes, the eyes almost seem to pierce right through you. It seems that he is also fairly attractive according to some of his classmates, but he simply scoffs at this. Personality: Alden had become a perfectionist over the years, because of him secretly striving for his parents attention. Everything he does, he tries to do to the best of his capabilities. Whenever something doesn't perfectly fit the scenario in his mind, he becomes visibly irritated, clicking his tongue and sometimes even glaring. In the situation where everything isn't a '100%' Alden would try to strive for the 'perfect picture' in his mind. Whilst interacting with others, he can be blunt and painfully honest. Over the years he has become more intuitive because of his attitude, and so can easily pick out faults, shortcomings or problems and point it out. Occasionally even giving his two cents on how he himself would 'remedy' the situation. Because of this he tends to not have many friends, though he doesn't really care and would even sarcastically remark this. He is cited as 'attractive yet a pain in the ass' by his classmates at school. Though once you become his friends, the blunt honesty tend reduces to a minimum and you see the softer side of Alden. See that confident smile of his? It's a facade. In truth he has a side to him that he frantically tries to hide is that Alden has the tendency to blame himself, even when it isn't his fault. He is a 'self-serving martyr', so to speak. An inferiority complex of sorts which stems directly from his past. Only the closest people know this side of him, like his sister. He desperately tries to hide under a mask, the mask being actually how he wants to be. Background: Alden was born to a normal family, Quentin. His parents loved him and cared for him. Then his sister was born, he was then mostly neglected by his parents to favor his younger sister who was born a few years later after him. While he did not blame his sister for his parents actions, he blamed himself. He began performing everything perfectly, without a fault. His grades were almost always perfect as he began being more studious. Even his attention to his appearance stemmed from this. His primary thoughts were, 'Maybe if I did perfectly, they would notice, maybe...' Alden never actually realized that his parents thought he was mature enough to do things by himself. and him being a perfect little boy further proved this, with them now focusing fully on his younger sister. However due to this nature, he had become more self-dependent, and slightly arrogant and snobbish, even being sarcastic and blunt to a fault at times, pointing out inadequacy or shortcomings when he sees it because of developed habit of being 'perfect'. Relations: TBD Power: ??? Miscellanious: Theme song

Hal s'est fixé dans son lit. "Aww, merde! Pas encore!" Son horloge de chevet brillait presque huit. Il s'est brouillé à sa commode, en se déguisant et en jetant des trucs. Il a bloqué des livres dans son sac scolaire, a couru en bas, et a mis le grille-pain, se déplaçant à travers sa routine matinale au rythme de la foudre. Le grille-pain a sauté, et Hal a pris son petit déjeuner et s'est barré par la porte, presque en oubliant de le verrouiller. Bien sûr que personne ne l'avait réveillé. Personne n'était à la maison. Son père était à un congrès à Chicago, et sa mère est partie tôt pour le bureau. Oublier de régler l'horloge d'alarme était une erreur trop fréquente. Hal a décollé dans la rue, aussi vite que ses jambes pouvaient le porter. La cloche sonna à son arrivée, à sa grande consternation. Il s'est faufilé en classe en prenant l'un des sièges les plus proches de la porte. Il espérait que personne ne le remarquerait. "Mais ils vont... Ils le font toujours..." Hal murmura à lui-même en vain. Il a laissé sa tête tomber sur le bureau, faisant un "coup" étouffé comme il l'a frappé. "Horloge d'alarme fixe..."

Name: Hal Putnam Gender: Male Age: 16 Appearance: Background: Hal comes from a well-to-do family, his father a successful writer and his mother a lawyer. Naturally, Hal was exposed heavily to philosophy as a child, but tries to escape his parents' shadow. Instead of making well-educated decisions, Hal likes to plunge headlong into the unknown, constantly testing his limits. He knows where he stands with his parents, and tries not to overstep them too much, but is nevertheless very impulsive and intelligent. Relations: TBD Power:

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 8 h 25 Mina a levé les yeux, stupéfait, tandis que le garçon avec le livre lui parlait. Elle n'a jamais su qu'il était dans sa classe, et c'était déjà Mars! -- Merci, dit-elle, en réponse à son compliment de ses stylos et crayons. Elle a été surprise quand il lui a demandé s'ils pouvaient faire le projet de partenariat ensemble. Elle a senti son cœur battre plus vite, mais elle s'est serré les mains. Gardez-vous ensemble. Mina est passée par la tête, essayant de savoir s'il était intelligent ou pas. D'habitude, elle ne se souciait pas des autres, donc elle ne connaissait même pas le nom de ce garçon, et encore moins son intelligence. C'était quand elle s'est rendue compte que son visage était proche du visage du garçon. Si près. Extrêmement proche. Elle a rapidement tourné la tête pour faire face à l'avant. Elle aurait rougi, mais ça faisait longtemps qu'elle abandonnait de telles émotions. -- Bien sûr, dit Mina, froidement. Alors, l'enseignant a annoncé que le projet allait être sur la Renaissance, et que ce projet se terminera juste avant les examens de fin d'année. Oh, mon Dieu... Est-ce que ça veut dire que je dois passer le reste de l'année avec ce garçon? Je suppose que ce ne sera pas si mal... « Nous allons commencer le projet maintenant, afin que tout le monde s'assoie à côté de leurs partenaires », a poursuivi l'enseignant.

Name: Mina Cain (Can be called Min) Gender: Straight female Age: 14 Appearance: Picture Above Background: Mina is very much like a kuudere (only occasionally shows her caring side), and because of this, she acts very cold to others. This is only because her father passed away when Mina was only 3 due to cancer, and her mother passed away three years later in a car accident. Relations: Because Mina is a kuudere, she does not have any friends. She will reply with one-word phrases if someone talks to her, but as soon as she becomes friends with somebody, she’ll be like an open book. Power:

Hal a percé au son d'un substitut. Aucun professeur ne voulait dire qu'il était hors-jeu. Il n'avait jamais vu ce sous-marin, mais ça ne l'a pas dérangé. Hal était juste content de ne pas être à nouveau balisé. Il a sorti ses livres de chimie et son carnet, réalisant qu'il avait laissé des papiers sur son bureau à la maison. Le matin avait été trop pressé, et il les avait oubliés. "Aww, merde", Hal s'est moqué de lui-même. Il l'a gardé pour lui-même et s'est concentré sur le nouveau sous-marin, Om.

Name: Hal Putnam Gender: Male Age: 16 Appearance: Background: Hal comes from a well-to-do family, his father a successful writer and his mother a lawyer. Naturally, Hal was exposed heavily to philosophy as a child, but tries to escape his parents' shadow. Instead of making well-educated decisions, Hal likes to plunge headlong into the unknown, constantly testing his limits. He knows where he stands with his parents, and tries not to overstep them too much, but is nevertheless very impulsive and intelligent. Relations: TBD Power:

Les couloirs de l'école secondaire diminuaient lentement au fur et à mesure que les élèves se déplaçaient dans leurs classes respectées. Un garçon se tenait d'un côté du couloir en regardant ses livres dans sa main droite, un manuel d'histoire et un manuel de mathématiques. Les deux manuels dont il avait besoin pour ses deux prochaines classes. Il s'appelait Micky Young. Micky s'est déplacé dans le couloir pour accéder à son premier cours d'Histoire. Bien que son casier ait été un peu loin de la salle de classe, il a toujours réussi à y arriver quelques minutes avant que la cloche ne sonne. C'était sa capacité douée de se déplacer dans les couloirs à des vitesses de rupture du cou tout en restant sous le radar des enseignants. Alors que sa classe venait en vue, il entendit un professeur d'une autre classe crier son nom, "Micky! Pas de course dans les couloirs!" Micky n'a pas répondu au professeur, et il n'a pas regardé en arrière. Micky est passé d'une vitesse de jogging à la marche en quelques secondes. Il est entré dans la classe avec la tête haute, c'était sa position de confiance. Chaque fois qu'il se sentait un peu nerveux ou appréhensif à propos de quelque chose, il prenait une position confiante. Ça a marché pour Micky comme un ajusteur d'attitude. Il est entré dans la salle de classe et a pris place par les fenêtres, laissant le soleil briller et atterrir sur son bureau. Après quelques minutes d'organisation de sa station, la cloche sonna et la classe commença officiellement. Micky a ouvert son classeur de devoirs, s'ouvrant à la page qui était datée'mercredi 20 mars 2016'. La veille, Micky n'avait pas tout le temps de faire ses devoirs, et contrairement à d'autres étudiants, il n'en avait pas vraiment l'impression. Au lieu de cela, Micky a passé la veille à modifier et à effectuer une nouvelle routine d'exercice. Une routine qui a poussé son corps hors de la forme tout en restant raisonnablement faisable. Maintenant, Micky est laissé avec une demi-feuille de devoirs terminée. Il a parcouru le travail qu'il avait fait, en voyant certaines des erreurs qu'il avait faites. "Damn, aurait dû prêter plus d'attention!" Micky s'est chuchoté. Étant perdu dans la pensée, Micky n'a même pas entendu le professeur présenter la classe, ou l'affectation. Heureusement Micky a réussi à attraper la fin, alors qu'il a finalement accordé en il a entendu le professeur dire quelque chose sur le projet se terminant avant les examens finaux des années. La seule pensée qui a traversé sa tête légèrement vide était, Quel projet? Quelle est sa taille? De quoi s'agit-il? C'était à ce moment-là que l'enseignant parlait à nouveau, ordonnant à l'élève de s'asseoir à côté de ses partenaires. Micky a senti la pression dans son immeuble de poitrine, non seulement il a été complètement pris de garde par ce projet, mais maintenant il doit le faire avec un partenaire? Micky n'était pas le gamin le plus populaire, donc il ne voulait pas juste aller voir quelqu'un au hasard et les faire rejeter sa proposition. Au lieu de ça, il a décidé de s'asseoir sur son siège et d'attendre que quelqu'un lui demande, et si personne ne lui demande, alors il attendra que le professeur le sélectionne au hasard. Je vais tout jouer cool et tout, agir comme si je n'écoutais pas ou ne faisais pas attention... Ouais, ça va marcher!

Name: Micky Young Gender: Male Age: 16 I don't want you to look at his body, but rather his face. His face being the only thing I want out of this pic . His face being slightly more plump. Micky stands at about 5'4, and weighs slightly over 200 lbs. Most of his weight comes from the excess fat he has around his gut and legs. He usually wears thick hoodies that cover up his body, but recently he's been wearing a few sweater vests that make him look slightly thinner. Micky had poor posture and usually slouches when he's sitting or walking, leaving him with a sore back most days. Personality: There really isn't one word that can describe Micky. At times and in certain situations, Micky can be very lazy or very productive with his day. Micky could also be very shy, or when he goes to formal places with his family, very outspoken. The only thing that really sets Micky aside when it come to standing out in a crowed, is that he is a quick learner. Not in the traditional sense, like learning about school and stuff, but more of a practical sense. Micky can pick up on little things quickly, social hints, peoples feelings through their expressions or words. He's very keen on things like that. Micky is also and avid reader, his favorite books being about true crime, usually about the Mob or righteous groups. This interest usually spills over to his real life, making him interested in the weird and brutal. Yet, he still gets a bit standoffish when the time of trouble comes by. It's much like how he is with people, at first he's interested in beings friend with someone, but if their interest gets to high to quickly, it'll freak Micky out and usually drive him away. If Micky manages to ease himself into a friendship it almost always lasts a long time, resulting in a friend that you can trust with your life if need be. Micky is a reliable friend, when you do become friends with him, that is. Background: Micky lived a troubled life ever since he started to attend school. At a very young age, Micky had fallen victim to bullies. The would tease him about his weight, and poke fun at him, calling him names and the like. When Micky was in grades 1-5, the bullying didn't really bother him,they just annoyed him, for the most part the bullies weren't that good at bullying. But as grades 6, 7 and 8 rolled around, Micky noticed the boys, and sometimes girls, started to get more vicious with their words and actions. The girls, taking it as far as making earthquake jokes when he walked in class, and the boys adopting a more physical approach. Those last three years before high school were seriously hard on Micky, nearly everyday Micky would be left crying in the bathroom waiting out the day, or sent home early because the bullies had been particularly rough that day. Luckily, Micky's parents were the kindest souls in his life, and at the end of the day Micky would always have a place and people to come back to who would make thing better. There was a change in Micky's life when they decided to move away from the city that they have been living in for years. They were moving just before the start of Micky's first year of high school. This was both a blessing and a scare for Micky as he knew what could come of it. Micky hated the idea of moving cities, leaving everything behind. But, on the positive side, Micky would be free from the chains of his bullies that tortured him everyday at school. This may be the opportunity to change and start a better school life. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because Micky knew exactly how harsh bullies at high school can be and his mom had just saved him from that agony. Micky is now in a new city, with site and sounds. This being the perfect way for Micky to change the things he dislikes about himself and be a person that people want to hang out with. After the move, Micky started exercising and he started to be a little more outgoing, but everything is still a work in progress. Relations: Open Power:

Sophia a étudié le sous-marin à travers ses cils, les pieds appuyés vers le haut sur son bureau pendant qu'il courait à travers la fréquentation de la classe. Mmmh, il est plutôt mignon. Plus drôle que le vieux Sterman aussi. Leur professeur ordinaire ne connaissait pas une blague si elle l'avait mordu. En jetant une petite boule de papier en allers et retours, elle mullait sur ses noms profferés. Tristan, Tristan. Non, ça ne lui va pas. Thorne... Blegh. C'est quoi, ça? C'est pas vrai. Elle s'est glissé toute seule. Désolé, mais ce nom est pris par mon animateur préféré. Ses yeux rugissaient de haut en bas de son corps. Hmm, Tristan Thorne. C'est T. Tic-Tac. En flaquant la bande de papier chez Richard, elle sourit en signant. Il a un joli cul, mais il est un peu vieux à mon goût. Et tu es un peu jeune pour le mien. Pieds baissés s'il vous plaît. Elle clignait, se tournant pour rencontrer le sourire amusé du sous-marin. Laissez-moi deviner, vous êtes... Il a regardé la feuille de présence sur son bureau, Mme. Callahan, c'est ça? Votre réputation vous précède, et oui, je connais le langage des signes. Quelques-uns de ses camarades de classe se sont ridiculisés, et Sophia elle-même a laissé sortir un long sifflet, impressionné, alors qu'elle lançait ses pieds sur le sol. Elle pourrait s'amuser avec celui-ci. Tirant son téléphone de sa poche, elle a ouvert le haut-parleur, et son pouce s'est brouillé au-dessus de l'écran tactile. Je vais m'assurer de garder mes mains là où vous pouvez les voir. Tristan sourit alors qu'il se penchait contre son bureau. C'est toi qui fais ça. Je vais aussi devoir vous voir après le cours.Sophie roula les yeux tandis que la classe donna un «oooh» collectif, qui lui permit d'attraper un ou deux éblouissements jaloux. Maintenant, avec cela hors du chemin, je comprends que vous avez un test aujourd'hui. Je sais, je sais, je ne les ai jamais aimés non plus. Donc, laissez passer ça, et ensuite nous pouvons passer à quelque chose de plus intéressant.

Name: Sophia Callahan Gender: female Age: 15 Sophia is shorter than average, in fact she has never met anyone who could look her in the eye without looking down or bending their legs. Her face is very expressive, particularly her grey eyes, due to it being one of her primary ways of communicating. She has a very lithe, slightly muscular build from all the running and climbing she does. Because of her active lifestyle, she prefers to wear t-shirts, shorts, and running shoes or hiking boots. She also wears a shark-tooth necklace. Personality: Sophia doesn’t speak. Period. She has not spoken so much as a single word her entire life, and it is not known whether this is due to some unknown brain condition, or if she simply chooses not to. Regardless, this does not seem to hamper her much, as she always finds some other way to communicate what she wants to others. She’s also very active and athletic, usually going on a run before school, participating in her school’s track team, as well as being a parkour expert; if she doesn’t want to be caught, then no one can catch her short of flying. She’s also recently started teaching herself MMA, mostly by watching videos on the interwebs. Because of her apparent “disability”, she is subject to a fair degree of ridicule and teasing, particularly from those who believe that she just chooses not to speak (her most common nickname is “Silent Sophy”). Her typical responses to this are scathing looks, sarcastic comments delivered via a text-to-speech app on her phone that she had downloaded, and rude gestures delivered at point blank range. In fact, Sophia doesn’t seem to place much, if any great importance on personal space; she loves to communicate through physical contact, particularly with hugs, slight caresses, or drawing on someone’s skin. However, she will give space if she sees that her actions are making the recipient particularly uncomfortable. Those who know her know that this is just her way of demonstrating affection. Background: At the tender age of 18, Madeline Callahan left her small town roots and made her way to the sunny shores of California, in pursuit of great dreams, good friends and a bright future. Upon arrival, she promptly shirked those dreams and indulged in every pleasure possible. She was a party girl, living the good life without a care in the world… Until reality came knocking, and she found herself pregnant. Abandoned by most of her friends, Madeline was still determined to live her life her own way. She decided to keep the baby, more or less cleaned up, and managed to support herself and her daughter, whom she named Sophia, as a waitress. It was not an easy life, but with the help of a couple remaining friends, it was a more or less good one for the first couple years. However, Madeline became troubled. Even up to the age of four, Sophia had still not spoken a single word. There didn’t seem to be any apparent medical reason preventing her from doing so, and she seemed to understand others perfectly; she just didn’t speak herself. Madeline attempted to get a speech therapist to help her daughter, however she was unable to continue paying for them. Additionally, Sophia had seemed to have inherited some of her mother’s wilful attitude, since she didn’t pay the slightest attention during the few sessions that she did have. Out of both options and money, Madeline made the grudging decision to move back home, where she has lived with her brother and sister-in-law ever since. Relationships: Richard Calhoun has been Sophia's best friend almost since the day she and her mother moved in with her uncle. People love to tease about them being an "item", and while Sophia has never said yes, she's never said no either. Powers:

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 Alden se tenait là, attendant une réponse. Bien qu'il ait remarqué qu'elle était un peu plus proactive, il semble qu'elle ait essayé de retenir quelque chose, il n'était pas sûr de quoi exactement, mais c'est ce qui est intéressant. Elle lui rappelait certainement un peu de lui-même. Les capacités d'observation d'Alden sont remarquables, pendant des années il a regardé, mais surtout lui-même, d'autres personnes et a pris note de leur comportement. Donc il a remarqué la pression de la main, mais a levé un sourcil parce qu'il ne pouvait pas identifier pourquoi exactement. "Merci." et "Bien sûr." étaient les quelques mots qu'elle murmurait, il avait entendu que la reine des glaces ne parlait à personne, et un sourire gravé sur son visage comme ces mots étaient prouvés faux, il a quelque peu souligné que les rumeurs n'étaient pas toutes vraies, et bien qu'Alden le savait, une confirmation le rendait un peu heureux. Avant de bouger sa propre table et de la placer à côté des cheveux, il a remarqué un morceau de cheveux lâches sur les vêtements de la fille. Une seconde après, il a touché la zone près de son cou et l'a retirée. Alden ne connaissait vraiment pas l'étiquette sociale. Il a maintenant déplacé sa table et son sac à dos à côté d'elle, en regardant la symétrie de la table pour la trouver presque parfaite. Il a regardé en arrière la fille, maintenant face à l'avant. Alden avait oublié "Je ne sais pas vraiment que vous êtes le nom, Mme Longing Stare." Il a dit, maintenant, lui tendant la main avec un visage plein de sourires, "Je suis Alden Sebastian." Alden pouvait littéralement sentir les regards de la pièce, était-ce parce que le duo étrange des 'excentriques, perfectionnistes bizarres' et 'la reine de glace'?

Name: Alden Sebastian Gender: Male Age: 16 Appearance: Alden stands at about 5'8". His body is kept at the fit side of things, as Alden cares about his appearance the most. He dresses prim and posh. Most of his effort goes towards his clothing and fashion sense. He gravitates towards black and a darkish hue of blue. His hair is a dark maroon brown, which is always properly styled. The most outstanding feature are his teal-coloured eyes, the eyes almost seem to pierce right through you. It seems that he is also fairly attractive according to some of his classmates, but he simply scoffs at this. Personality: Alden had become a perfectionist over the years, because of him secretly striving for his parents attention. Everything he does, he tries to do to the best of his capabilities. Whenever something doesn't perfectly fit the scenario in his mind, he becomes visibly irritated, clicking his tongue and sometimes even glaring. In the situation where everything isn't a '100%' Alden would try to strive for the 'perfect picture' in his mind. Whilst interacting with others, he can be blunt and painfully honest. Over the years he has become more intuitive because of his attitude, and so can easily pick out faults, shortcomings or problems and point it out. Occasionally even giving his two cents on how he himself would 'remedy' the situation. Because of this he tends to not have many friends, though he doesn't really care and would even sarcastically remark this. He is cited as 'attractive yet a pain in the ass' by his classmates at school. Though once you become his friends, the blunt honesty tend reduces to a minimum and you see the softer side of Alden. See that confident smile of his? It's a facade. In truth he has a side to him that he frantically tries to hide is that Alden has the tendency to blame himself, even when it isn't his fault. He is a 'self-serving martyr', so to speak. An inferiority complex of sorts which stems directly from his past. Only the closest people know this side of him, like his sister. He desperately tries to hide under a mask, the mask being actually how he wants to be. Background: Alden was born to a normal family, Quentin. His parents loved him and cared for him. Then his sister was born, he was then mostly neglected by his parents to favor his younger sister who was born a few years later after him. While he did not blame his sister for his parents actions, he blamed himself. He began performing everything perfectly, without a fault. His grades were almost always perfect as he began being more studious. Even his attention to his appearance stemmed from this. His primary thoughts were, 'Maybe if I did perfectly, they would notice, maybe...' Alden never actually realized that his parents thought he was mature enough to do things by himself. and him being a perfect little boy further proved this, with them now focusing fully on his younger sister. However due to this nature, he had become more self-dependent, and slightly arrogant and snobbish, even being sarcastic and blunt to a fault at times, pointing out inadequacy or shortcomings when he sees it because of developed habit of being 'perfect'. Relations: TBD Power: ??? Miscellanious: Theme song

Hal gémit avec le reste de la classe. Bien sûr, c'était un excellent testeur, mais ça ne voulait pas dire qu'il aimait ça. Il a glissé les livres qu'il venait de sortir sous son bureau, attendant que le test vienne. Au moins, il a étudié hier soir. C'était l'un de ses binges de lecture et de dessin de soda, et il avait sorti le produit hier soir. Heureusement, il avait lancé la Chimie après avoir fini avec son roman YA et ses bandes dessinées. C'était son premier confort à la maison, considérant que son père était un romancier YA. Au moins, ça avait marché en sa faveur. Hal a griffonné les équations chimiques sur les lignes, mesurant soigneusement l'équilibre mentalement. Il est peut-être un peu rebelle à la maison, mais il a reconnu l'importance des bonnes notes et a essayé de ne pas venir comme un délinquant. L'horloge coïncidait au fur et à mesure que le temps passait, Hal complètement inconscient à elle, vraiment 'dans la zone,' comme il était.

Name: Hal Putnam Gender: Male Age: 16 Appearance: Background: Hal comes from a well-to-do family, his father a successful writer and his mother a lawyer. Naturally, Hal was exposed heavily to philosophy as a child, but tries to escape his parents' shadow. Instead of making well-educated decisions, Hal likes to plunge headlong into the unknown, constantly testing his limits. He knows where he stands with his parents, and tries not to overstep them too much, but is nevertheless very impulsive and intelligent. Relations: TBD Power:

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 8 h 30 Mina a gelé quand The Boy With the Book s'est approché pour toucher son cou. Elle s'est sentie soulagée, mais aussi déçue, quand il a enlevé sa main. C'est ce que tout le monde appelle flirter? Non, non, ça ne peut pas l'être. Il était gentil, c'est tout. Ou peut-être parce qu'il aimait les choses parfaites. Elle a examiné ses manches qui étaient dans sa vision périphérique. Ouais, pas une ride à voir. Quand il a demandé son nom, elle a été assez surprise. Elle était sûre que tout le monde connaissait son nom. Après tout, les gens parlaient d'elle quand ils pensaient qu'elle n'écoutait pas. En fait, elle l'a trouvé assez fascinant. Les histoires qu'ils ont eues étaient très créatives. Mina regarda la main tendue, puis son sourire, et se retourna vers la page sur laquelle elle s'était endormie. Ce sourire. Ce sourire. Elle a essayé de garder son visage calme. Alden. Alden Sebastien. Où ai-je déjà entendu ça? Il lui a fallu une seconde pour se rendre compte que c'était le "parfait" dont tout le monde parlait. Comment ne l'ai-je pas reconnu? Probablement parce que je ne fais jamais attention à personne. "Mina. Mina Cain, répondit-elle, ajouta-t-elle un tourbillon au pétale qu'elle venait de terminer. Elle l'a retenu, et l'a tourné de côté. Mina soupirait. Ça a l'air si mauvais. Elle a arraché la page et l'a mise sur le côté. Elle était presque sûre que tout le monde regardait, mais elle ne voulait pas regarder autour pour vérifier. En plus, ils regardent toujours. Mais pour une raison quelconque, celui-ci l'a dérangée. C'est parce que je suis avec Alden? Alden... J'ai l'impression que The Boy With the Book semble mieux.

Name: Mina Cain (Can be called Min) Gender: Straight female Age: 14 Appearance: Picture Above Background: Mina is very much like a kuudere (only occasionally shows her caring side), and because of this, she acts very cold to others. This is only because her father passed away when Mina was only 3 due to cancer, and her mother passed away three years later in a car accident. Relations: Because Mina is a kuudere, she does not have any friends. She will reply with one-word phrases if someone talks to her, but as soon as she becomes friends with somebody, she’ll be like an open book. Power:

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 Alden vient de la regarder dessiner de façon nonchalante, une sorte de caniche abstraite. Il avait l'air assez impressionnant, pourrait-il dire, et alors qu'Alden s'efforçait pour la perfection dans tous les domaines, il n'était pas un très bon artiste donc il n'a jamais vraiment pratiqué cela. Elle avait l'air mécontente du dessin dans son ensemble, l'a déchirée et l'a jetée de côté, "Mina. Mina Cain." Elle a dit que d'une voix monotone, c'était vraiment une reine des glaces. "C'est un plaisir." Alden bouche avant de se tourner vers le devant de la classe une fois de plus, « J'adore la symétrie de votre dessin au fait, il semble presque parfait. Oh, et n'avons-nous pas supposé commencer le projet?" "Alden, pour vous faire arrêter de parler, s'il vous plaît, donnez-moi une brève description du travail de Michaelangelo." l'enseignant a appelé de l'avant, d'un ton légèrement agité. "Oui, maman." Alden répondit en se levant et en réparant ses vêtements et sa posture : «Michaelangelo est né en 1475 et est mort en 1564, il était sculpteur de renaissance, peintre et architecte. Michel-Ange est souvent considéré comme incarnant l'esprit de la renaissance. Ses plus grandes œuvres comprennent la statue de David et sa peinture de la Chapelle Sixtine. Sa création de la sis-" "Ça suffit, asseyez-vous." Elle a dit, le coupant et le agitant vers son siège. "Avant ça, j'aimerais dire quelque chose à la classe. Puis-je? Il a dit hors de portée, et après que l'enseignante eut hurlé son approbation, il s'est retourné et s'est claqué la main sur la table. Le bruit retentissait dans toute la pièce, et coupait le bas murmure parmi ses camarades de classe. "Qu'est-ce que tu regardes. Je vais être contondant, c'est fatigant et franchement, ennuyeux, si vous avez quelque chose à dire, dites-le à mon visage." Alden annonça, des signes d'irritation présents dans son ton et la connotation de ses paroles, avec son visage contorsant dans un éblouissement, ses yeux sarclés paraissant briller tout en les regardant droit sur eux. Il était un peu fatigué de voir ses camarades de classe regarder pour, vraiment, aucune bonne raison. Il s'est retourné et a donné un sourire à l'enseignant avant de s'asseoir. "Alden, je te parlerai après l'école." l'enseignant a dit, ses doigts massant ses sourcils, il semble qu'elle avait eu affaire à la nature tête forte d'Alden dans le passé. La classe était morte silencieuse maintenant, quelques-uns portant des expressions surprises ou vexées. Le sourire d'Alden lui-même arqué un peu plus haut. Il regarda aussi sa main gauche, elle saigna un peu de frapper la partie fissurée de sa table, et avec un coup d'œil, il choisit de l'ignorer puisqu'il n'avait pas d'étoffes pour essuyer le sang, et choisit d'accrocher sa main à sa gauche malgré être en pleine vue du regard de Mina.

Name: Alden Sebastian Gender: Male Age: 16 Appearance: Alden stands at about 5'8". His body is kept at the fit side of things, as Alden cares about his appearance the most. He dresses prim and posh. Most of his effort goes towards his clothing and fashion sense. He gravitates towards black and a darkish hue of blue. His hair is a dark maroon brown, which is always properly styled. The most outstanding feature are his teal-coloured eyes, the eyes almost seem to pierce right through you. It seems that he is also fairly attractive according to some of his classmates, but he simply scoffs at this. Personality: Alden had become a perfectionist over the years, because of him secretly striving for his parents attention. Everything he does, he tries to do to the best of his capabilities. Whenever something doesn't perfectly fit the scenario in his mind, he becomes visibly irritated, clicking his tongue and sometimes even glaring. In the situation where everything isn't a '100%' Alden would try to strive for the 'perfect picture' in his mind. Whilst interacting with others, he can be blunt and painfully honest. Over the years he has become more intuitive because of his attitude, and so can easily pick out faults, shortcomings or problems and point it out. Occasionally even giving his two cents on how he himself would 'remedy' the situation. Because of this he tends to not have many friends, though he doesn't really care and would even sarcastically remark this. He is cited as 'attractive yet a pain in the ass' by his classmates at school. Though once you become his friends, the blunt honesty tend reduces to a minimum and you see the softer side of Alden. See that confident smile of his? It's a facade. In truth he has a side to him that he frantically tries to hide is that Alden has the tendency to blame himself, even when it isn't his fault. He is a 'self-serving martyr', so to speak. An inferiority complex of sorts which stems directly from his past. Only the closest people know this side of him, like his sister. He desperately tries to hide under a mask, the mask being actually how he wants to be. Background: Alden was born to a normal family, Quentin. His parents loved him and cared for him. Then his sister was born, he was then mostly neglected by his parents to favor his younger sister who was born a few years later after him. While he did not blame his sister for his parents actions, he blamed himself. He began performing everything perfectly, without a fault. His grades were almost always perfect as he began being more studious. Even his attention to his appearance stemmed from this. His primary thoughts were, 'Maybe if I did perfectly, they would notice, maybe...' Alden never actually realized that his parents thought he was mature enough to do things by himself. and him being a perfect little boy further proved this, with them now focusing fully on his younger sister. However due to this nature, he had become more self-dependent, and slightly arrogant and snobbish, even being sarcastic and blunt to a fault at times, pointing out inadequacy or shortcomings when he sees it because of developed habit of being 'perfect'. Relations: TBD Power: ??? Miscellanious: Theme song

Les yeux de Micky se déplaçaient du papier qui était vide de son bureau, au garçon qui se tenait devant la classe. Il n'a pas vraiment prêté attention à ce qu'il disait, toutes ces choses sur Micheal Angelo sont allées d'une oreille à l'autre. Micky aime l'histoire autant que le prochain, mais seulement certaines périodes, la renaissance n'étant pas l'une d'entre elles. Si Micky pouvait choisir une période de temps dans laquelle il aimerait en savoir plus, il faudrait que ce soit des civilisations anciennes. Juste au moment où Micky était sur le point de regarder en arrière son papier blanc, il a entendu le garçon parler à nouveau, cette fois-ci en exprimant ses pensées sur les murmures qui flottaient à travers la classe. Micky regarda autour de lui pour voir s'il parlait à quelqu'un en particulier, mais il semblait qu'il parlait à la classe dans son ensemble. Naturellement, l'enseignant n'aimait pas cela, ce qui lui a donné un temps de classe supplémentaire. Micky n'a pas été vraiment surpris par cela, tout comme le professeur, Micky a aussi eu des cours avec ce garçon avant. Son nom était Alden quelque chose... les gens l'appelaient le 'Mr. Perfectionniste ou "garçon parfait" ou quelque chose comme ça. Les rumeurs sont, sans aucun doute, une grande partie de la structure sociale du lycée. Micky a essayé de s'éloigner d'être pris dans le web, mais il savait que les rumeurs sur lui finiraient par se faire sentir... ce n'était qu'une question de temps. Micky ne comprenait pas. Parfois, quand il y a des rumeurs sur quelqu'un, elles se révèlent être une bonne chose. Dans ce cas, être appelé 'Parfait' par tout le monde peut être une rumeur qui a des hauts et des bas. Il semblait difficile pour Micky d'empathie avec Alden, Micky adorerait être appelé 'Parfait'. Bien que, comme la plupart des choses, c'est plus qu'un mot que les gens utilisent pour vous décrire, c'est une étiquette, que ça plaise ou non. Micky regarda Alden et se rappela un temps où il le complimentait de son perfectionnisme, ce n'était rien de spécial, mais c'était authentique. Micky a pris son classeur et ses livres, de son bureau et s'est rendu aux deux. Alden et la glace... Mina. Micky ne connaissait pas Mina du tout, mais il savait que le garçon, Alden, pouvait être gentil quand il le voulait. Peut-être qu'un moment comme celui-ci changera d'humeur, même un peu. Micky s'est arrêté juste à côté des bureaux conjoints de Mina et Alden. "Hé, euh, je me demandais... Il n'y a que 29 étudiants dans la classe aujourd'hui et, euh, tout le monde a un partenaire... pour la plupart. Tu crois que je peux rejoindre ton groupe? il y a des nombres impairs et tout..." Dans sa tête, Micky imaginait que ses mots sortaient mieux, mais à ce stade, que pouvez-vous faire de bien? Micky a laissé un soupir, laissant entendre qu'il voulait être un peu plus « louche » à ce sujet. Néanmoins, le point est passé en revue. Il était de plus en plus fatigué d'attendre que l'enseignant lui assigne au hasard un partenaire, et s'il devait choisir un groupe pour perturber, pourquoi ne pas le faire avec deux des étudiants plus intelligents en classe.

Name: Micky Young Gender: Male Age: 16 I don't want you to look at his body, but rather his face. His face being the only thing I want out of this pic . His face being slightly more plump. Micky stands at about 5'4, and weighs slightly over 200 lbs. Most of his weight comes from the excess fat he has around his gut and legs. He usually wears thick hoodies that cover up his body, but recently he's been wearing a few sweater vests that make him look slightly thinner. Micky had poor posture and usually slouches when he's sitting or walking, leaving him with a sore back most days. Personality: There really isn't one word that can describe Micky. At times and in certain situations, Micky can be very lazy or very productive with his day. Micky could also be very shy, or when he goes to formal places with his family, very outspoken. The only thing that really sets Micky aside when it come to standing out in a crowed, is that he is a quick learner. Not in the traditional sense, like learning about school and stuff, but more of a practical sense. Micky can pick up on little things quickly, social hints, peoples feelings through their expressions or words. He's very keen on things like that. Micky is also and avid reader, his favorite books being about true crime, usually about the Mob or righteous groups. This interest usually spills over to his real life, making him interested in the weird and brutal. Yet, he still gets a bit standoffish when the time of trouble comes by. It's much like how he is with people, at first he's interested in beings friend with someone, but if their interest gets to high to quickly, it'll freak Micky out and usually drive him away. If Micky manages to ease himself into a friendship it almost always lasts a long time, resulting in a friend that you can trust with your life if need be. Micky is a reliable friend, when you do become friends with him, that is. Background: Micky lived a troubled life ever since he started to attend school. At a very young age, Micky had fallen victim to bullies. The would tease him about his weight, and poke fun at him, calling him names and the like. When Micky was in grades 1-5, the bullying didn't really bother him,they just annoyed him, for the most part the bullies weren't that good at bullying. But as grades 6, 7 and 8 rolled around, Micky noticed the boys, and sometimes girls, started to get more vicious with their words and actions. The girls, taking it as far as making earthquake jokes when he walked in class, and the boys adopting a more physical approach. Those last three years before high school were seriously hard on Micky, nearly everyday Micky would be left crying in the bathroom waiting out the day, or sent home early because the bullies had been particularly rough that day. Luckily, Micky's parents were the kindest souls in his life, and at the end of the day Micky would always have a place and people to come back to who would make thing better. There was a change in Micky's life when they decided to move away from the city that they have been living in for years. They were moving just before the start of Micky's first year of high school. This was both a blessing and a scare for Micky as he knew what could come of it. Micky hated the idea of moving cities, leaving everything behind. But, on the positive side, Micky would be free from the chains of his bullies that tortured him everyday at school. This may be the opportunity to change and start a better school life. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because Micky knew exactly how harsh bullies at high school can be and his mom had just saved him from that agony. Micky is now in a new city, with site and sounds. This being the perfect way for Micky to change the things he dislikes about himself and be a person that people want to hang out with. After the move, Micky started exercising and he started to be a little more outgoing, but everything is still a work in progress. Relations: Open Power:

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 Comme l'horloge tournait à 6:00 le matin, un téléphone chargeant sur un bureau s'est éteint et a commencé à jouer une couverture métallique odieusement forte d'une piste de jeu vidéo. Si ce n'était pas pour le fait que c'était une alarme, on pourrait en profiter. Pour Blake Reyes, cependant, cela n'a fait qu'effrayer, car cela l'a forcé à sortir de son rêve et à revenir à la réalité. Et c'était un si bon rêve... qu'il se gémissait en s'emparant d'un de ses oreillers et l'empilait sur son visage. Non, ce n'est pas l'alarme de Blake qui s'en va du tout. Blake n'utilise pas d'alarme parce que son frère Albert, dans la pièce d'à côté, est assez fort pour fonctionner parfaitement bien. L'inconvénient de l'utilisation des alarmes d'Al, cependant, est que... ils ne sont généralement pas efficaces pour Al lui-même du tout. L'alarme va continuer à saigner jusqu'à ce que quelqu'un vienne le réveiller personnellement et le faire éteindre. Avec un gémissement lourd, Blake a réussi à sortir du lit et à affronter la musique. Littéralement comme il est allé dans la chambre d'Als pour le réveiller. Au cours de la prochaine heure et demie, toute la famille s'est retirée du lit pour se préparer pour la journée. Comme c'était le premier, Blake était le premier prêt. Le choix de la mode n'était pas un cerveau pour lui, il vient de jeter sur sa tenue ordinaire. Ses parents sont venus ensuite, mais Al a choisi de dormir un peu plus longtemps. Au moment où il a finalement rassemblé assez d'énergie pour sortir du lit aussi bien, ils avaient tous déjà fini le petit déjeuner. Vers 8 heures, toute la famille s'est mise à empiler la porte pour sortir pour la journée. Les parents ont juste conduit ensemble pour travailler tandis que les garçons eux-mêmes ont juste fait du vélo à l'école. C'était un bon exercice dans l'opinion de Blake! Al n'a jamais vraiment aimé. Trop d'efforts pour tôt le matin. C'était une torsion du sort cruel qu'Al était celui qui était attaché à P.E. tôt le matin pendant que Blake a eu une période de classe ordinaire, vraiment. Une fois ce passage passé, Blake s'est dirigé vers la chimie, un noeud croissant dans son estomac alors qu'il se rappelait le test qu'ils avaient aujourd'hui. Il n'était pas bon pour étudier... Jusqu'à cette année, il avait réussi à traverser la plupart de ses cours uniquement en écumant ses notes la veille. Ça a vraiment marché dans la plupart des classes! Maths et chimie... pas tant que ça. Il y avait une lueur d'espoir dans les yeux de Blake quand il a vu qu'ils avaient un sous-marin aujourd'hui, mais tout s'est effondré une fois qu'Om a annoncé qu'ils passeraient par là de toute façon. Il a regardé le test avec dédain une fois qu'il a été passé à lui, mais il a fait de son mieux pour obtenir tout ce dont il pouvait se souvenir. Au pire, il s'est dit qu'il en aurait 60 dessus.

Name: Blake Reyes Gender: Male Age: 15 Appearance: Blake sits at an ordinary 5'7''. He's in pretty good shape considering he's a rather active person, but he doesn't really have much of a fashion sense. He's never without jeans, sneakers, and some sort of white or yellow shirt combination. Personality: Blake’s a kind person at heart. He doesn’t normally mean anyone any harm and usually tries to be as considerate and accepting of others as much as possible. Everyone has their slip ups, though, so Blake’s not immune to the occasional foot in mouth. This kindness stems from his desire to live up to the ideals of a superhero. Kind, caring, and always willing to stick up for those in need. In that last regard, he’s a bit reckless, but he honestly just can’t abide by someone getting picked on or worse. He considers anyone who can jive with that sort of attitude a friend. Beyond all his kindness, he has an adventurous and curious side to him. He’s always loved trying new things, investigating something he doesn’t know about, or just plain getting out and seeing what lies beyond his home. With those tendencies in mind, Blake’s attention to wander away when he’s cooped up inside and forced to do things irrelevant to his interests. As you might guess, this reflects rather poor on his grades. Not that he minds too much… At the moment. Background: Fifteen years ago, a pair of twins were born to a loving Filipino couple. Blake is the eldest twin and can be described as the energetic to his brother’s chill. The adventurous to his brother’s stay-at-home. The less-studious to his brother's more-studious. The “more likely to jump into danger and call it ‘being a hero’” to his brother’s “I enjoy living and would rather stay right here.” From a young age, Blake’s always been greatly interested in exploring the world beyond his own home, and that feeling was only exacerbated when he started getting into superhero shows and comics. He dreamed of being a superhero when he was a kid, but as reality set in he ultimately just decided to follow the ideals set by them. That is, being as kind and caring as possible, helping the innocent or struggling, etc. etc. Relations: Blake considers anyone that gets along with him his friend! (Undecided) Power:

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 Richard gémit et descendit la tête sur ses bras croisés quand Om signala comment ils allaient encore faire leur test de chimie. Il avait étudié, et était raisonnablement sûr qu'il allait passer avec une note relativement élevée, mais cela ne voulait pas dire qu'il devait l'aimer. Il y en avait d'autres dans la classe qui semblaient encore moins amusés que lui, et encore d'autres qui semblaient avoir trop de plaisir. Il a frappé Sophia et rapidement signé dans sa direction, S'il vous plaît, essayez de ne pas me faire arrêter aujourd'hui? J'apprécierais vraiment. Malgré les mots, il souriait comme un idiot. Les problèmes avec Sophia ont généralement eu des conséquences, comme la détention, ou la motivation, ou les deux pour être honnête. Mais d'habitude, c'était juste assez amusant que ça en valait la peine. Quel genre de nom est Om? Il s'est demandé alors qu'il griffonnait sur son papier d'essai. Ce type est un peu bizarre, ce n'est pas que moi, non? Aucune réponse à ses pensées n'a été donnée. Quelqu'un a passé son siège, s'est cogné l'épaule pendant qu'ils allaient et il s'est cogné dans la surprise comme son visage a soudainement été planté dans sa feuille d'examen. "Hé!" Il s'est claqué et s'est assis, voyant le dos de Largent. L'élève plus âgé regarda en arrière par-dessus son épaule et scintille sur Richard, le faisant gronder sous son souffle d'irritation. Sans un autre mot, Grandnt a remis son papier et est sorti de la classe. Toujours fumant, Richard a terminé le reste de son test, ignorant la façon dont les yeux d'Om l'ont suivi. Il a terminé son test ensuite et l'a remis à leur nouveau sous-marin. "Richard," dit Om, juste avant que le garçon commence à suivre son chemin de la chambre et il s'est arrêté, regardant en arrière l'homme plus âgé. "Il y a toujours des brutes dans le monde. Si vous les laissez vous énerver, alors ils gagnent." Richard soupira et hoche, toujours fou mais un peu moins furieuse. « Merci d'enseigner », murmura-t-il et marcha rapidement de la pièce. Il a traversé le couloir et s'est assis avec son dos contre le mur. Un livre est sorti de son sac à dos et il a enterré son nez dans les pages bien usées et aux oreilles de chien, attendant que Sophia termine son test et vienne le rejoindre.

Name: Mina Cain (Can be called Min) Gender: Straight female Age: 14 Appearance: Picture Above Background: Mina is very much like a kuudere (only occasionally shows her caring side), and because of this, she acts very cold to others. This is only because her father passed away when Mina was only 3 due to cancer, and her mother passed away three years later in a car accident. Relations: Because Mina is a kuudere, she does not have any friends. She will reply with one-word phrases if someone talks to her, but as soon as she becomes friends with somebody, she’ll be like an open book. Power:

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 Interagir avec tout le monde. L'horloge a coché, et coché. La classe était presque finie. Alden regarda sa main, elle saignait encore, bien que heureusement à la légère. Il aura peut-être besoin de changer sa table pour l'histoire. Avant qu'Alden puisse se lever pour faire ses valises pour sa prochaine classe, une personne familière est entrée dans ses périphériques. "Hé, euh, je me demandais... Il n'y a que 29 étudiants dans la classe aujourd'hui et, euh, tout le monde a un partenaire... pour la plupart. Tu crois que je peux rejoindre ton groupe? il y a des nombres impairs et tout..." C'était Micky, une personne qu'il connaît dans le passé, prenant quelques cours ensemble et d'autres affaires. Il a regardé le garçon, les sourcils arqués vers le haut, "Si vous tirez votre poids, n'hésitez pas. Je m'attends à un travail parfait, Mick." Alden a dit, en regardant loin de lui et en commençant à réparer son sac pour la prochaine classe, "Bien que vous pourriez aussi avoir à demander glacy, peut-être qu'elle ne s'en soucierait pas, peut-être qu'elle le ferait." Il ramassa maintenant ses affaires debout, se mit à marcher vers la classe suivante. Il n'a pas eu le temps d'aller aux toilettes pour nettoyer ses blessures, donc il le ferait après le test qui a été annoncé. En entrant dans la classe il a pris un siège similaire à la classe d'histoire, à côté de Mina, pas particulièrement par choix puisque la plupart des sièges étaient déjà occupés, mais il s'est demandé comment tout le monde est arrivé ici aussi vite. Il y avait des trucs sur le beau sous-marin et sur la façon dont certaines filles ont fauché sur lui. Il y avait aussi quelques échanges rapides entre lui et quelques-uns de ses camarades de classe, mais cela n'intéressait pas particulièrement Alden. Assez coïncidentalement, sa tante sourde lui enseignait le signe, et il avait donc une idée de la conversation. Il y avait aussi quelque chose au sujet d'un élève plus âgé qui s'est heurté à un autre, et l'enseignant s'est emparé de l'intimidation. Le test était maintenant remis aux étudiants, et Alden l'a rempli rapidement. Il a aussi pris environ une dizaine de minutes pour vérifier le test, et comme il était sur le point de le donner dans le sous-marin a parlé de la dodling de Mina. Il semble qu'elle s'attendait à des renforts, comme c'était vrai, il a remarqué Mina doodling après ses tests, elle était une prise de test rapide. -- Elle avait déjà fait son test, je ne vois pas le problème, donc ça devrait aller, monsieur? Alden a fait une pipe, "Sitting idly après un test serait oh-so ennuyeux." Alden grinça sardoniquement au sous-marin, Om, qui, face à la méfiance, se lâcha un peu, "Si tu le dis comme ça..." Avant qu'il ne puisse finir, Alden s'est approché du professeur et a remis son papier, et a clignoté sa main gauche bousculé de son propre sang, "Depuis que j'ai fini, je m'excuse." il a dit, en plaçant la sangle sur ses épaules tout en se réveillant. Le test n'a pas été trop difficile alors il a réfléchi pourquoi il a fallu un certain temps pour faire. En entrant dans la salle de bain, il rince sa main sous l'évier, et son sang coule maintenant librement. Il espérait qu'il n'y aurait plus de cicatrice, qu'il mépriserait sincèrement cette cicatrice qui ruinerait son teint. Sa manche gauche était levée, afin de ne pas laisser l'eau déshabiller ses vêtements, il attendit patiemment jusqu'à ce que le sang s'efface, regardant avec attention.

Name: Alden Sebastian Gender: Male Age: 16 Appearance: Alden stands at about 5'8". His body is kept at the fit side of things, as Alden cares about his appearance the most. He dresses prim and posh. Most of his effort goes towards his clothing and fashion sense. He gravitates towards black and a darkish hue of blue. His hair is a dark maroon brown, which is always properly styled. The most outstanding feature are his teal-coloured eyes, the eyes almost seem to pierce right through you. It seems that he is also fairly attractive according to some of his classmates, but he simply scoffs at this. Personality: Alden had become a perfectionist over the years, because of him secretly striving for his parents attention. Everything he does, he tries to do to the best of his capabilities. Whenever something doesn't perfectly fit the scenario in his mind, he becomes visibly irritated, clicking his tongue and sometimes even glaring. In the situation where everything isn't a '100%' Alden would try to strive for the 'perfect picture' in his mind. Whilst interacting with others, he can be blunt and painfully honest. Over the years he has become more intuitive because of his attitude, and so can easily pick out faults, shortcomings or problems and point it out. Occasionally even giving his two cents on how he himself would 'remedy' the situation. Because of this he tends to not have many friends, though he doesn't really care and would even sarcastically remark this. He is cited as 'attractive yet a pain in the ass' by his classmates at school. Though once you become his friends, the blunt honesty tend reduces to a minimum and you see the softer side of Alden. See that confident smile of his? It's a facade. In truth he has a side to him that he frantically tries to hide is that Alden has the tendency to blame himself, even when it isn't his fault. He is a 'self-serving martyr', so to speak. An inferiority complex of sorts which stems directly from his past. Only the closest people know this side of him, like his sister. He desperately tries to hide under a mask, the mask being actually how he wants to be. Background: Alden was born to a normal family, Quentin. His parents loved him and cared for him. Then his sister was born, he was then mostly neglected by his parents to favor his younger sister who was born a few years later after him. While he did not blame his sister for his parents actions, he blamed himself. He began performing everything perfectly, without a fault. His grades were almost always perfect as he began being more studious. Even his attention to his appearance stemmed from this. His primary thoughts were, 'Maybe if I did perfectly, they would notice, maybe...' Alden never actually realized that his parents thought he was mature enough to do things by himself. and him being a perfect little boy further proved this, with them now focusing fully on his younger sister. However due to this nature, he had become more self-dependent, and slightly arrogant and snobbish, even being sarcastic and blunt to a fault at times, pointing out inadequacy or shortcomings when he sees it because of developed habit of being 'perfect'. Relations: TBD Power: ??? Miscellanious: Theme song

Tout comme Blake a finalement avancé d'une question particulièrement difficile (pour lui), il a finalement entendu un sous-commencer à mâcher Mina pour dessiner pour une fois. Ce n'est pas qu'il l'ait délibérément ignoré quand c'est arrivé, c'est juste qu'il s'est littéralement toujours avéré être intensément concentré sur la recherche d'une question à ces moments-là. Cela, et il s'est juste avéré être assis sur le côté opposé de la pièce d'elle. Les tests peuvent rendre une pièce calme, mais à moins que vous criiez dans son oreille Blake n'a tout simplement pas eu la chance d'entendre quoi que ce soit s'il était particulièrement concentré. Revenons à l'affaire à l'étude, Blake vient de lever la tête et la main vers le haut à Om. "Elle l'est vraiment," a-t-il ajouté à la défense d'Alden, "je la vois le faire après des tests parfois et notre professeur ne s'énerve pas." Étonnamment, oui, il a en fait terminé les tests avant que le temps soit venu de le voir. Il n'a pas vraiment vu le problème du sous-marin. C'était une chose si elle partageait ses réponses, mais d'où il était assis, il n'y avait pas vraiment moyen pour elle de le faire non plus. Avec cela hors de son système, Blake est retourné directement à son test. Encore quelques questions à résoudre! Encore quelques-unes... ce sont les choses qu'il a le plus de temps avec... Blake s'est griffé la tête et s'y est juste gardé pour comprendre.

Name: Blake Reyes Gender: Male Age: 15 Appearance: Blake sits at an ordinary 5'7''. He's in pretty good shape considering he's a rather active person, but he doesn't really have much of a fashion sense. He's never without jeans, sneakers, and some sort of white or yellow shirt combination. Personality: Blake’s a kind person at heart. He doesn’t normally mean anyone any harm and usually tries to be as considerate and accepting of others as much as possible. Everyone has their slip ups, though, so Blake’s not immune to the occasional foot in mouth. This kindness stems from his desire to live up to the ideals of a superhero. Kind, caring, and always willing to stick up for those in need. In that last regard, he’s a bit reckless, but he honestly just can’t abide by someone getting picked on or worse. He considers anyone who can jive with that sort of attitude a friend. Beyond all his kindness, he has an adventurous and curious side to him. He’s always loved trying new things, investigating something he doesn’t know about, or just plain getting out and seeing what lies beyond his home. With those tendencies in mind, Blake’s attention to wander away when he’s cooped up inside and forced to do things irrelevant to his interests. As you might guess, this reflects rather poor on his grades. Not that he minds too much… At the moment. Background: Fifteen years ago, a pair of twins were born to a loving Filipino couple. Blake is the eldest twin and can be described as the energetic to his brother’s chill. The adventurous to his brother’s stay-at-home. The less-studious to his brother's more-studious. The “more likely to jump into danger and call it ‘being a hero’” to his brother’s “I enjoy living and would rather stay right here.” From a young age, Blake’s always been greatly interested in exploring the world beyond his own home, and that feeling was only exacerbated when he started getting into superhero shows and comics. He dreamed of being a superhero when he was a kid, but as reality set in he ultimately just decided to follow the ideals set by them. That is, being as kind and caring as possible, helping the innocent or struggling, etc. etc. Relations: Blake considers anyone that gets along with him his friend! (Undecided) Power:

Sophia grimaça alors qu'elle regardait la petite confrontation entre Ricky et Lardo. L'autre garçon l'avait frottée de la mauvaise façon depuis le jour où elle avait posé les yeux sur lui, et la façon impitoyable qu'il traitait les gens ne faisait pas grand-chose pour améliorer cette première impression. Remettre son attention à l'épreuve, sa grimace n'a fait que s'approfondir. Contrairement à Ricky, les tests n'ont pas du tout été faciles pour elle; l'information s'est glissée dans son cerveau, et elle a toujours eu un mal de tête par la suite. Au moment où elle avait fini, le reste de la classe avait déjà fini et était parti. C'était la dernière, comme d'habitude. Déposer son crayon sur son bureau, elle a soufflé un soupir à travers ses lèvres et a frotté ses yeux avant de déposer son test sur le bureau de Tic-Tac. Il la regarda avec un sourire amusé. "Votre classe a pas mal de personnages, n'est-ce pas?" Sophia s'est simplement serrée alors qu'elle était assise sur le bord d'un bureau à l'attente. "Comme vous, semble-t-il. M. Sterman m'a laissé plusieurs notes sur vous. Il est d'avis que vous êtes une jeune femme plutôt intelligente, malgré vos tendances plus... perturbatrices. » Tous les deux se sont moqués. "Il a aussi remarqué que vous avez été en difficulté dans cette classe." Secouant un brin de cheveux derrière l'oreille, Sophia a regrissé. C'est peut-être difficile à croire, mais je ne suis pas vraiment une fille scientifique. Trop de choses à retenir, trop peu d'intérêt. Claquant ses mains ensemble, il s'est reposé le menton sur ses doigts. "Donc c'est ce que c'est? Tu t'ennuies? Compréhensible, mais tout dépend vraiment de la façon dont vous regardez "intéressant". Je pense que si tu as vraiment pris le temps d'y penser, il y a une certaine beauté à la chimie. Et d'après ce que j'ai vu, vous en avez une très bonne idée. » Sophia a clignoté un moment, puis scruté. Il n'y a pas de règles contre les profs qui flirtent avec leurs élèves? Il l'a regardée à capuche. "Tu vas faire quoi que ce soit?" C'est pas vrai. J'étais sérieux, tu n'es pas mon genre. "Moi aussi." Il se leva et s'assit au bord de son bureau. "Je ne vais rien faire de votre conduite aujourd'hui, j'ai fait bien pire à mon époque. Cependant, j'apprécierais que vous écoutiez votre ami de temps en temps, et que vous vous absteniez de me mettre dans une situation où je pourrais me faire virer à l'avenir. J'aime beaucoup rester à l'emploi. Bonjour Mme Callahan, et si vous avez besoin d'aide, n'ayez pas peur de demander. » Sophia a donné un regard bizarre au sous-marin. Elle ne pouvait pas mettre son doigt dessus, mais il y avait quelque chose à propos de son ton qui lui faisait penser qu'il ne parlait pas de travail scolaire. Elle a serré son téléphone de sa poche. "Je serai sûr de me souvenir de ça. "Voyez-vous plus tard "Tic-Tac." Alors qu'elle se tournait et sortait de la salle de classe, Om clignait. "Tic-Tac?" Il s'est ridiculisé. "C'est un nouveau." En dehors de la classe, Sophia a espionné Ricky en l'attendant, mais elle a aussi espionné quelque chose de bien plus intéressant pour elle : Princesse était assise contre le mur, dessinant quelque chose. C'était évident ce qu'elle devait faire. Silencieuse devant la fille, elle se pencha et examina le dessin à l'envers, qui, malheureusement, lançait aussi sa masse de cheveux sur les genoux de la fille. Elle n'était pas vraiment sûre à quoi ça ressemblait, mais ça avait l'air vraiment bien, peu importe ce que c'était. Elle pouvait aussi sentir l'éblouissement de la fille ennuyeux dans l'arrière de son crâne. Sans regarder vers le haut de son examen du dessin, elle a rapidement glissé un message dans le Président. "Hey PRINCESS. Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?"

Name: Sophia Callahan Gender: female Age: 15 Sophia is shorter than average, in fact she has never met anyone who could look her in the eye without looking down or bending their legs. Her face is very expressive, particularly her grey eyes, due to it being one of her primary ways of communicating. She has a very lithe, slightly muscular build from all the running and climbing she does. Because of her active lifestyle, she prefers to wear t-shirts, shorts, and running shoes or hiking boots. She also wears a shark-tooth necklace. Personality: Sophia doesn’t speak. Period. She has not spoken so much as a single word her entire life, and it is not known whether this is due to some unknown brain condition, or if she simply chooses not to. Regardless, this does not seem to hamper her much, as she always finds some other way to communicate what she wants to others. She’s also very active and athletic, usually going on a run before school, participating in her school’s track team, as well as being a parkour expert; if she doesn’t want to be caught, then no one can catch her short of flying. She’s also recently started teaching herself MMA, mostly by watching videos on the interwebs. Because of her apparent “disability”, she is subject to a fair degree of ridicule and teasing, particularly from those who believe that she just chooses not to speak (her most common nickname is “Silent Sophy”). Her typical responses to this are scathing looks, sarcastic comments delivered via a text-to-speech app on her phone that she had downloaded, and rude gestures delivered at point blank range. In fact, Sophia doesn’t seem to place much, if any great importance on personal space; she loves to communicate through physical contact, particularly with hugs, slight caresses, or drawing on someone’s skin. However, she will give space if she sees that her actions are making the recipient particularly uncomfortable. Those who know her know that this is just her way of demonstrating affection. Background: At the tender age of 18, Madeline Callahan left her small town roots and made her way to the sunny shores of California, in pursuit of great dreams, good friends and a bright future. Upon arrival, she promptly shirked those dreams and indulged in every pleasure possible. She was a party girl, living the good life without a care in the world… Until reality came knocking, and she found herself pregnant. Abandoned by most of her friends, Madeline was still determined to live her life her own way. She decided to keep the baby, more or less cleaned up, and managed to support herself and her daughter, whom she named Sophia, as a waitress. It was not an easy life, but with the help of a couple remaining friends, it was a more or less good one for the first couple years. However, Madeline became troubled. Even up to the age of four, Sophia had still not spoken a single word. There didn’t seem to be any apparent medical reason preventing her from doing so, and she seemed to understand others perfectly; she just didn’t speak herself. Madeline attempted to get a speech therapist to help her daughter, however she was unable to continue paying for them. Additionally, Sophia had seemed to have inherited some of her mother’s wilful attitude, since she didn’t pay the slightest attention during the few sessions that she did have. Out of both options and money, Madeline made the grudging decision to move back home, where she has lived with her brother and sister-in-law ever since. Relationships: Richard Calhoun has been Sophia's best friend almost since the day she and her mother moved in with her uncle. People love to tease about them being an "item", and while Sophia has never said yes, she's never said no either. Powers:

Oblivieux au drame qui s'ensuivit autour de lui, Hal termina triomphalement son essai. Il l'a glissé sur le bureau d'Om, lui a donné un sourire, et a fermé la porte sans dire un mot. Il ne voulait pas attirer trop l'attention, il avait été extrêmement tard après tout. Hal a glissé dans le couloir, voyant d'autres étudiants qui avaient terminé leur test en attendant dehors. Il a reconnu la plupart d'entre eux; Richard, Mina, Sophie. Bien, il pensait. Au moins, je n'aurai pas à me rendre seul. Ne les connaissant pas assez bien pour les appeler amis, Hal les a certainement appréciés maintenant, il détestait venir déjeuner seul. Il décida d'attendre dans le couloir jusqu'à ce que les autres descendent, et il suivit, se mêlant à la foule.

Name: Hal Putnam Gender: Male Age: 16 Appearance: Background: Hal comes from a well-to-do family, his father a successful writer and his mother a lawyer. Naturally, Hal was exposed heavily to philosophy as a child, but tries to escape his parents' shadow. Instead of making well-educated decisions, Hal likes to plunge headlong into the unknown, constantly testing his limits. He knows where he stands with his parents, and tries not to overstep them too much, but is nevertheless very impulsive and intelligent. Relations: TBD Power:

Micky s'est senti un peu soulagé quand Alden ne voulait pas qu'il se joigne, mais il n'aimait pas tant demander 'Icy'. Mais, Micky devait faire ce qu'il devait faire, même si cela signifiait succomber à une critique ou un rejet. Micky ne pouvait pas hésiter plus que les quelques secondes qu'il avait déjà eu alors il a juste décidé de demander. Micky prit un souffle silencieux mais prolongé, et commença à parler. "Tu es mince--" Micky a commencé, mais presque immédiatement être coupé par la fin de la classe. Micky regarda Mina en s'éloignant, se dirigeant évidemment vers sa prochaine classe. Micky n'allait pas poursuivre la reine des glaces juste pour rejoindre un groupe d'histoire, dont les résultats possibles n'en valent certainement pas la peine. Micky lâcha son souffle et regarda les deux étudiants sortir de la pièce. "Je suppose que c'est ça." Micky s'est dit silencieusement. Tous les élèves étaient déjà sortis de la classe, alors Micky est parti aussi. Micky descendit le hall en face de la direction dans laquelle la majorité de la classe allait, au lieu de Micky se dirigeant vers le gymnase. Plus tôt dans l'année, quand les étudiants choisissaient leurs choix, Micky avait décidé d'être plus sain et perdre un peu de poids dans le processus. À l'époque, il pensait que c'était le choix parfait, l'éducation physique et la santé. En retour, il s'est rendu compte que la décision qu'il avait prise n'était pas comme il l'avait déjà supposée. Les médecins. Ed n'était pas une classe facile pour quelqu'un du poids de Micky, quoi qu'il en soit, Micky s'est promis qu'il ne tomberait jamais dans une position où quelqu'un se moquerait de son poids, même si cela signifiait pousser son corps jusqu'aux limites pendant des mois à la fin. Micky est arrivé à Gym dans ses vêtements de gym habituels. Short en mailles colorées, avec une chemise grise portant le logo et le nom de l'École dans une couleur plus foncée. Heureusement, c'était un jeudi, donc Micky n'avait pas vraiment à s'inquiéter de l'exercice. Habituellement vers la fin de la semaine (jeudi et vendredi), l'enseignant jouera un jeu avec la classe qui a généralement plus à voir avec la pensée et la planification, plutôt que des exploits physiques. Micky a entendu la cloche et s'est rendu compte que la classe était finie. Habituellement, Micky attend que la cloche sonne, mais quand vous vous amusez, le temps vole. "Prenez 6 tours et puis vous êtes prêt à partir!" Le professeur a crié à travers la salle de gym. Micky a laissé sortir un soupir suivi d'un murmure, "... merde." En sueur, Micky a chié sur les douches et a mis ses vêtements habituels. "La première moitié, encore une..." Micky s'est dit alors qu'il rentrait dans les couloirs jusqu'à son casier.

Name: Micky Young Gender: Male Age: 16 I don't want you to look at his body, but rather his face. His face being the only thing I want out of this pic . His face being slightly more plump. Micky stands at about 5'4, and weighs slightly over 200 lbs. Most of his weight comes from the excess fat he has around his gut and legs. He usually wears thick hoodies that cover up his body, but recently he's been wearing a few sweater vests that make him look slightly thinner. Micky had poor posture and usually slouches when he's sitting or walking, leaving him with a sore back most days. Personality: There really isn't one word that can describe Micky. At times and in certain situations, Micky can be very lazy or very productive with his day. Micky could also be very shy, or when he goes to formal places with his family, very outspoken. The only thing that really sets Micky aside when it come to standing out in a crowed, is that he is a quick learner. Not in the traditional sense, like learning about school and stuff, but more of a practical sense. Micky can pick up on little things quickly, social hints, peoples feelings through their expressions or words. He's very keen on things like that. Micky is also and avid reader, his favorite books being about true crime, usually about the Mob or righteous groups. This interest usually spills over to his real life, making him interested in the weird and brutal. Yet, he still gets a bit standoffish when the time of trouble comes by. It's much like how he is with people, at first he's interested in beings friend with someone, but if their interest gets to high to quickly, it'll freak Micky out and usually drive him away. If Micky manages to ease himself into a friendship it almost always lasts a long time, resulting in a friend that you can trust with your life if need be. Micky is a reliable friend, when you do become friends with him, that is. Background: Micky lived a troubled life ever since he started to attend school. At a very young age, Micky had fallen victim to bullies. The would tease him about his weight, and poke fun at him, calling him names and the like. When Micky was in grades 1-5, the bullying didn't really bother him,they just annoyed him, for the most part the bullies weren't that good at bullying. But as grades 6, 7 and 8 rolled around, Micky noticed the boys, and sometimes girls, started to get more vicious with their words and actions. The girls, taking it as far as making earthquake jokes when he walked in class, and the boys adopting a more physical approach. Those last three years before high school were seriously hard on Micky, nearly everyday Micky would be left crying in the bathroom waiting out the day, or sent home early because the bullies had been particularly rough that day. Luckily, Micky's parents were the kindest souls in his life, and at the end of the day Micky would always have a place and people to come back to who would make thing better. There was a change in Micky's life when they decided to move away from the city that they have been living in for years. They were moving just before the start of Micky's first year of high school. This was both a blessing and a scare for Micky as he knew what could come of it. Micky hated the idea of moving cities, leaving everything behind. But, on the positive side, Micky would be free from the chains of his bullies that tortured him everyday at school. This may be the opportunity to change and start a better school life. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because Micky knew exactly how harsh bullies at high school can be and his mom had just saved him from that agony. Micky is now in a new city, with site and sounds. This being the perfect way for Micky to change the things he dislikes about himself and be a person that people want to hang out with. After the move, Micky started exercising and he started to be a little more outgoing, but everything is still a work in progress. Relations: Open Power:

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 Mina a failli mourir d'une crise cardiaque quand Alden et The Slow Test-Taker l'ont soutenue. Elle était reconnaissante, mais elle ne pouvait pas le montrer, bien sûr. Après avoir décidé que le silence l'affectait, elle sortit de la classe pour s'appuyer contre le mur et dessiner. Mina a seulement remarqué The Signing Girl quand elle a sorti son téléphone et l'a fait parler dans cette voix agaçante. Princesse... essaie-t-elle de me dire que je suis Elsa de Frozen? Elle soupirait. Euh, princesse. Pourquoi les filles les aiment-elles? "Pas de dessin, de doodling," dit-elle, sans regarder vers le haut. Quand elle a fini de dessiner le dernier squiggle, elle l'a retenu à nouveau. Ce n'était toujours pas très bon, mais elle était d'accord avec ça. Elle a remis le cahier dans son sac et a pris un verre de sa bouteille d'eau. Elle détestait les fontaines d'eau parce qu'elle devait toujours attendre. La Signing Girl était toujours à côté d'elle. Qu'est-ce qu'elle veut? Mina a regardé autour et a remarqué la lecture de The Signing Boy. Elle s'est retournée et a commencé à marcher vers la cafétéria. En chemin, elle est tombée sur le garçon avec le livre quand il est sorti des toilettes. "Désolé", elle murmura. Pourquoi je m'excuse? Ce n'est pas comme moi... Elle a remarqué du sang sur sa main. "Oh! Est-ce que ça va?" C'est pas vrai. Je viens de dire ça à voix haute.

Name: Mina Cain (Can be called Min) Gender: Straight female Age: 14 Appearance: Picture Above Background: Mina is very much like a kuudere (only occasionally shows her caring side), and because of this, she acts very cold to others. This is only because her father passed away when Mina was only 3 due to cancer, and her mother passed away three years later in a car accident. Relations: Because Mina is a kuudere, she does not have any friends. She will reply with one-word phrases if someone talks to her, but as soon as she becomes friends with somebody, she’ll be like an open book. Power:

Jeudi 21 mars 2016 Plus grand illuminé à rien. Les salles étaient vides et seuls les échos de ses pas donnaient l'impression qu'il y avait de la vie à l'école. L'ancien bâtiment était si solidement construit que même avec des salles de classe remplies d'élèves, le son était contenu à l'intérieur des chambres. Rien ne devait être entendu dans le hall. Il est entré dans sa poche et a sorti son paquet de cigarettes, se rendant compte en un coup d'œil qu'il était presque sorti. Il soupira, arracha l'une des dernières fumées de la meute et la coucha entre ses lèvres, en retournant aux gradins. Il sautait la troisième période et attendait le déjeuner. Il n'avait que l'E.P. Ensuite, il ne pouvait vraiment pas donner un cul de rats volants à propos de cette classe stupide. Il a allumé son briquet alors qu'il trouvait un endroit tranquille pour s'asseoir sous les gradins et s'est penché contre les poutres de support métallique qui retenaient toute la structure. La fumée tournoyant autour de lui et les oiseaux chantant dans ses oreilles, il s'assit, et attendit. ____________ Richard gémit quand Sophia a commencé à se moquer de Mina. Sa réputation l'a précédée et il ne pensait vraiment pas que c'était une bonne idée pour trop bavarder Sophia de gâchis avec l'école résidente Ice Queen. La salle se remplissait rapidement d'étudiants, quelques-uns qu'il connaissait, et d'autres qu'il ne connaissait pas. Alden est revenu de la salle de bain, la main encore sanglante et il a gagné sympathiquement mais se tenait, a poussé son livre dans son sac à dos, et a marché jusqu'à Sophia. Il a mis ses bras à travers les sangles de son sac de sorte qu'il s'est accroché sur sa poitrine, tourné et a placé son dos à Sophias, puis a atteint le dos, a accroché ses bras à travers le sien afin qu'ils aient été appuyés vers le dos, et penchés vers l'avant. Le résultat final a été que ses pieds se sont levés du sol et qu'elle était allongée sur son dos comme une tortue sur sa coquille. "Allez, Soph," dit-il. "Laissons la gentille fille tranquille et allons en cours. Dès qu'on aura fini le prochain cours, on te trouvera de la graisse, hein? Je pense que votre taux de sucre dans le sang devient bas." Il était sûr qu'ils ont fait tout le spectacle comique quand il a commencé à la porter dans le hall vers leur classe suivante, mais il ne s'en souciait pas beaucoup. La troisième période était rapide et facile, on aurait dit que la plupart d'entre eux avaient encore la même classe ensemble. Comment n'avait-il pas remarqué tous ces gens qu'il avait plusieurs cours tous les jours? En fin de compte, il y avait un manque rafraîchissant d'autres incidents et avant qu'il se rende compte qu'ils faisaient leur chemin à travers les salles et vers la cafétéria. Il pouvait déjà sentir la viande mystérieuse qui était la base du déjeuner du lycée dans le monde entier en train de brûler dans les pots. Sérieusement, la nourriture en prison était probablement meilleure que la pente qu'ils ont eue, mais il n'allait pas se plaindre... beaucoup. Il disait quelque chose à Sophia, quoi, il ne se souviendrait jamais vraiment, quand l'incident qui conduirait à la destruction complète de la vie normale et tranquille qu'il connaissait, commença. Il poussa la porte, et la tête se tourna pour parler à Sophia, laboura la tête dans un autre corps, en les faisant trébucher tous les deux sur le sol. "Ow", Richard a pleuré et s'est assis, frottant gentiment une petite bosse à l'arrière de sa tête. "Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?" Il a regardé et gelé, les yeux s'ouvrant grand comme il a pris sur le site de Grandnt étendu sur le sol en face de lui. A côté de la vieille brute se trouvait un plateau vide. Vide parce que le contenu de ce plateau a fini par être jeté sur Largent. Il ressemblait à des spaghettis avec des boules de viande, du jello orange et une boîte entière de coke. "Je suis mort."

Name: Hal Putnam Gender: Male Age: 16 Appearance: Background: Hal comes from a well-to-do family, his father a successful writer and his mother a lawyer. Naturally, Hal was exposed heavily to philosophy as a child, but tries to escape his parents' shadow. Instead of making well-educated decisions, Hal likes to plunge headlong into the unknown, constantly testing his limits. He knows where he stands with his parents, and tries not to overstep them too much, but is nevertheless very impulsive and intelligent. Relations: TBD Power:

Avant que Blake le sache, la période était passée. Il a réussi à finir avec du temps à perdre, mais il ne pouvait pas nier que c'était certainement le plus long qu'il lui ait fallu pour terminer un test. S'il devait vraiment commencer à étudier pour passer cette classe... la pensée l'a fait trembler pendant qu'il la remettait à Om. Il a essuyé la sueur métaphorique de son front alors qu'il a emballé ses affaires dans son sac à dos, l'a glissé sur son épaule, et est allé dans le hall. La classe était essentiellement terminée d'ici là, donc il vient de passer à sa troisième classe d'époque à l'avance pour se réunir avec son frère. Aucun des jumeaux n'avait l'air mieux, vraiment, mais ce n'était rien qu'ils n'étaient pas habitués à. Une fois cette période passée, les deux ont été liés à la cafétéria, en trouvant quelque chose dont parler en contemplant comment une Ligue de Justice de Gundam UA pourrait aller. Des nerds. Contrairement à la plupart des gens de l'école, les deux ont généralement préparé un déjeuner à l'avance afin qu'ils n'aient pas à faire face aux dangers de la viande mystérieuse. Ils ont emballé leurs propres repas depuis le collège, vraiment, donc éviter ce n'était pas très dur pour eux du tout. Bien sûr qu'il a un peu perdu la tête puisque le seul vrai mélange à elle est le genre de collation qu'ils apportent pour compléter leur sandwich, mais il devait être mieux que le déjeuner scolaire. Leur trajet à la cafétéria a été arrêté par la commotion à la porte. Les deux se sont penchés sur la foule des épaules croissantes, réussissant à comprendre que l'un des gens là-bas semblait être... Largent! "Oh, cette seule bite?" Al a demandé. Oh mec, l'autre mec est probablement mort si c'est vraiment lui! Al était sur le point de lui demander s'il allait faire quelque chose de stupide, mais Blake était déjà en mouvement pour aller aider Richard. Plan Stupide plein de vapeur devant!

Name: Blake Reyes Gender: Male Age: 15 Appearance: Blake sits at an ordinary 5'7''. He's in pretty good shape considering he's a rather active person, but he doesn't really have much of a fashion sense. He's never without jeans, sneakers, and some sort of white or yellow shirt combination. Personality: Blake’s a kind person at heart. He doesn’t normally mean anyone any harm and usually tries to be as considerate and accepting of others as much as possible. Everyone has their slip ups, though, so Blake’s not immune to the occasional foot in mouth. This kindness stems from his desire to live up to the ideals of a superhero. Kind, caring, and always willing to stick up for those in need. In that last regard, he’s a bit reckless, but he honestly just can’t abide by someone getting picked on or worse. He considers anyone who can jive with that sort of attitude a friend. Beyond all his kindness, he has an adventurous and curious side to him. He’s always loved trying new things, investigating something he doesn’t know about, or just plain getting out and seeing what lies beyond his home. With those tendencies in mind, Blake’s attention to wander away when he’s cooped up inside and forced to do things irrelevant to his interests. As you might guess, this reflects rather poor on his grades. Not that he minds too much… At the moment. Background: Fifteen years ago, a pair of twins were born to a loving Filipino couple. Blake is the eldest twin and can be described as the energetic to his brother’s chill. The adventurous to his brother’s stay-at-home. The less-studious to his brother's more-studious. The “more likely to jump into danger and call it ‘being a hero’” to his brother’s “I enjoy living and would rather stay right here.” From a young age, Blake’s always been greatly interested in exploring the world beyond his own home, and that feeling was only exacerbated when he started getting into superhero shows and comics. He dreamed of being a superhero when he was a kid, but as reality set in he ultimately just decided to follow the ideals set by them. That is, being as kind and caring as possible, helping the innocent or struggling, etc. etc. Relations: Blake considers anyone that gets along with him his friend! (Undecided) Power: