Valendir

Valendir

GM: Deathblade15

Summary:

100 years ago humans discovered something that would shock the new world. This new discovery came from a stone buried deep in the earth and it came to be known as Magick. With Magick, came a new supply of energy that further advanced the technology of the modern world. Ships were given the ability to fly in the air, running water, electricity, and automobiles made lives easier, it also changed the face of warfare. Humans fought bloody battles to discover new secrets of Magick, to test their skills, and to conquer kingdoms.

Of the two great kingdoms left standing in the midst of it all was the Kingdom of Galmora, a kingdom of honor and light, believing that with Magick, peace could be restored and lives could be helped. The other kingdom was that of Ragarian Empire, they wanted nothing more than to rule the world that the humans lived in, believing that power was the key to victory.

For 30 years both kingdoms battled it out with one another, neither side growing stronger, nor growing weaker. Neither backed down from the fight and many lives were claimed in the onslaught and raids. Then during the final stages of the war, something amazingly shocking happened. Portals were being opened from the excess of Magick in the air, creatures came pouring through, some nothing more than mindless beasts on the prowl, some daemonic entities bent on world domination, others noble creatures of honor and dignity.

Galmora then allied itself with 3 of the races that came through the portal, the Reandir, the mighty wolf like warriors, Palenxi, pixie humanoids who have great knowledge in magick, and the Treja, our reality of what we consider elves, they are quick witted, speedy and excellent marksman.

Ragara also allied themselves with other creatures. The Braksha, daemonic entities who are skilled in the use of dark magick, the Galrin, undead creatures who are literally butchers to their prey and practicers of the dark art of necromancy, finally the Wyverns, dragon humanoid warriors, the fiercest of fighters and very powerful users of fire magick.

These sides allied and fought against their enemies in one final stand. After 3 weeks of fighting, Galmora prevailed and Regara was dethroned. Finally peace could reign once again.

The year is 1535, 65 years after the 30 year war. Darkness is spreading over the land and fighting has broken out amongst the people of the free world. The Regarian Empire has returned, and the enemies of old are growing stronger every day. There is only one way to stop the madness once and for all, a band of warriors must set out to destroy the evil forces and seal the portals in the darkest of territories, before another war is engaged.

Time is of the essence.

Playable Races of Valendir:

Humans (Galmora): The Kingdom of Galmora has been most respected throughout the world in its long line of leadership. It believes that light will always prevail and that magick should be used for the greater good, rather than conquest. However in times of peril the kingdom will use its magick to defend and fight off enemies who wish the kingdom and her people harm.

Galmorians are best known for their abilities in the swordsmanship and technological field. Galmora was the first to produce magick enhanced weaponry, automatic long ranged weaponry, armored cars, tanks, magick fighters and the infamous airship. They are also known to use magick, but only a few are extremely good at it, and those that are good are old wrinkly men.

Galmorian Occupations:

Knight: Standard Galmorian soldier uses standard issue weaponry and has no ability in magick whatsoever. Knights will use short swords, long swords, shields, or javelins.
Templar: Heavy support units, the elite commandos of the Kingdom of Galmora, they rely on strength, while still using their heads. Templars weapons include Great swords, lances, maces, hammers, or Claymores.
Magick Gunman: Using a combination of the recently invented rifle and magickally enhanced metal, which are called bullets, Gunman are a force to be reckoned with. The few weapons that have been invented for them are pistols, rifles, and semi-automatic rifles.
Mages: Mages use the Magick in the air to a devastating, or useful effect. Most are not very good at magick, but those who are skilled can unleash devastating attacks or great healing effects. The only weapon that can channel the Magick is the staff.
Technicians: The engineers of Galmora are not skilled fighters, but masters of electronics and mechanics and can make magick bombs. Most technicians are drivers of armored cars or tanks, though there are a few who pilot airships.

Reandir: The Reandir are fierce and noble warriors. They are humanoid, but have the distinct features of wolf ears, tails, and fangs. They have the ability to change into a wolf form, to give them the advantage of speed, strength, and jumping. Each Reandir makes their own sword; none use a shield and most never use magick. The only Reandir that use magick are the Reandir elders and shamans.

Reandir Occupations:

Warrior: Warriors are the fiercest of fighters and use only the strongest of close combat weaponry. The weapon used by all warriors are Longswords, they are incredibly skilled with this one weapon and can deal deadly blows in a matter of seconds.
Paladin: Combining close quarters combat with an added length. Paladins are skilled in using spears, lances, javelins, and staffs.
Monk: Monks like to get even closer than their Paladin and Warrior brothers. They prefer to use clawed gauntlets and knives more than anything.
Shaman: Users of healing Magick they are skilled to heal mostly anything with a tiny bit of magick and herbs. They are also masters of illusions and can destroy the minds of their enemies with illusionary techniques. Their main weapon is a shaman staff (a thick branch with incense.)

Treja: Elven like creatures who have lived throughout the ages and time spans of hundreds of years. In stories humans have believed that the Trejan folk, like the fictional elves, have a strong spiritual connection with Magick. However, this is not the case, what Trejans lack in Magick make up for speed and marksmanship.

Trejan Occupations:

Thief: Thiefs are known for their shockingly quick wit and quirks. They are also noted to be very fast and excellent stealers. A thief’s main weapon is his dagger or knife, though there are some who prefer clawed gauntlets.
Archer: Archers are excellent long range soldiers who also know some close range combat moves. Archers weapons include Short bows, Crossbows, and daggers.
Sniper: Even more skilled than archers, snipers are best known to pick off a target 600 yards away, and still manage to hit their vital points. Snipers main weapon is the Long bow.
Ninja: Ninjas are the stealthiest of any one of the Trejan soldiers, they use ninjitsu, taijitsu, and genjitsu to full effect. Their main weapons are duel wielded katanas, duel wielded tantos, or the dreaded dai-katana.
Assassin: Assassins combine the stealth of a ninja with the accuracy of an archer. Their main weapons are the short bow and the tanto.

Palenxi: Palenxi are pixie warriors, able to change into their minish pixie size allowing them to get into tight spaces or fly, or they can change into humanoid figures to deal our their magick spells. Palenxi are the greatest known Magick users in the free world of Valendir.

Palenxi Occupations:

Wizard: wizards are powerful magick users, they mainly use destructive and elemental magicks to a devastating effect. Wizards have no combat weapons.
Apothecary: Masters of healing magick and medicine using the most simple of herbs, they can also make many kinds of poisons as well. Apothecaries have no weapons.
Elementalist: Elementalists control every fiber of nature through magick and can use the power of the elements such as fire, thunder, ice, earth, water, air, light, dark, etc. to their advantage. Elementalists only weapon is a whip of any element they choose in their training, exp. Fire whip, ice whip, water whip, etc.
Alchemist: Alchemists combine the use of magick with science and transfiguration circles. They use chemicals and compounds and are considered the geniuses of magick sciences.
Spell sword: spell swords combine conventional weapons with any magick they decide to train themselves in. Their magick isn’t as powerful a wizard, but their weapons combined with magick make up for that. Spellswords use rapiers, sabers, epées, flamberge, estocs.

Enemies:

Humans (Regara): The Regarian Empire was one of the two powerful kingdoms in the free world. They believed that corruption and power were the only way to control a nation and their enemies in the Kingdom of Galmora opposed that idea. For 30 years they waged war against their enemies, and about 3 years before the war ended they allied themselves with new and powerful allies, as did their enemies. They lost the war at the battle of Eden’s Tear. Their Emperor was beheaded and their glorious empire fell to pieces.

It’s been 65 years and The Emperor’s Grandson has taken up the throne. Emperor Regara XVIII wishes to restore the true power that is the Regarian Empire. In the end he hopes to crush King Galmor XVI and destroy their enemies, regaining their supreme rule once more.

Regarian Occupations:

Soldier: Standard units of the Regarian Empire, use standard military issue short swords with shields.
Defender: Heavily armored soldiers who use large and heavy tower shields with maces to crush their opponents.
Berserker: Light armored units who use their speed and fury to quickly disintegrate enemy forces. Berserkers tend to use light dual blades, like short swords, rods, scythes, and elbow blades.
Ranger: Long-range units who use longbows to pick off their targets.
Mage Ranger: Like a standard mage, but uses long range destructive spells and status spells. A mage rangers weapon is his orb rod.

Braksha: Daemonic entities who are cunning, devious, and most of all hated. The Braksha, out of all the races in Valendir are the most despised, but they continue to do what they do best. Kill, slaughter, destroy, annihilate, eradicate, and decimate anyone who stands in the way of their evil plans.

Braksha Occupations:

Lesser Braksha: The lowest form of a Braksha daemon. They are nothing more than tiny pitch black creatures with glowing crimson eyes who do the bidding of their masters. What they lack in intelligence, strength, and willpower they make up in the size of numbers. There are millions of Lesser Braksha and when all of them come crashing down they are a force to be reckoned with. Their only weapons are their claws and teeth.
Higher Braksha: Warrior Braksha are large and strong, but their intelligence is even tinier than a Lesser Braksha. They are large muscular beings, and their appearance is something similar to a Minotaur, they come in less numbers and their weapon is a giant war hammer.
Elite Braksha: The Elite of the group they are the most closely resembled to humans. The noted differences are their eyes, fangs, and wings. They are powerful in both magick and melee combat. They control the higher and lesser Braksha, but they are not the real leaders.
Warlord Braksha: The leaders of the Braksha race they are the most powerful of any Braksha. Able to morph their form into any shape they will and they are powerful magick users. They rarely use weapons, knowing that only the strongest of warriors they face deserve to face their daemonic blades.

Galrin: Undead warriors who can find no peace for the crimes of their past. They are slaves to time and space, warriors forever to walk the universe and follow the orders of their superior beings. Most Galrin warriors practice dark magick and the forbidden necromancy magick.

Zombie: Meat puppets that listen to their necromancer masters. They only do their master’s bidding, they have a bit of meat on them and they certainly hunger for it. The only way to kill a zombie is remove the head or destroy the brain, whatever brain is left that is (zombies aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed, if you know what I mean.) Zombies weapons are their hands, nails, and teeth.
Skeletal Warrior: Much smarter than Zombies and much stronger. Skeletal warriors not only listen to their masters, but due to them being a skeleton they can reform themselves and they are smart enough to use weapons. The only way to kill a skeletal warrior is to kill the necromancer controlling them.
Dark Sage: Dark sages use dark magicks, such as dark energy, possession, ascension, and anything else involving the dark arts, with the exception of necromancy. Dark sages have no weapons.
Necromancer: Necromancers summon the dead to do their bidding, they are powerful warriors, but not the strongest.
Arch-Necromancer: Even stronger than a normal Necromancer they have the magick power to use other dark spells such as summoning and even controlling a live person. They are the darkest and most powerful of any Galrin Magick user.

Wyvern: Dragon like warriors who are both intelligent and strong, while still being the elemental breathing terrors they are known to be. Wyverns are known to come in many statures and honors just like a human.

Fire Wyvern: Fire wyverns are the large fire breathing dragons that every child has come to know, love, and fear. They raze and burn crops along with any opponent that gets in their way. They are part of the low rank.
Ice Wyvern: Ice wyverns are like their fire counterparts except that their breathing abilities revolve around the ice element. They are part of the low rank.
Thunder Wyvern: Like the other two thunder wyverns also breathe an element, these beings shoot out lightning from their gaping mouths. They are part of the low rank.
Elite Wyvern: Elite wyverns are middle ranking wyverns that use all three of the elements that their lower brothers use. They have the ability to control the three ranks.
Queen Wyvern: There is only one queen wyvern, they breed and give birth to the lower ranking wyverns along with the elite wyverns. Once a queen dies, she is burned and from the ashes rises a new queen wyvern appears, which is raised and protected by the elite wyverns. A queen wyvern is a high ranking wyvern.
King Wyvern: The strongest of all the wyverns and the ruler of them all. Uses all three elemental breaths along with dark fire, which is used to destroy, and light fire, which is used to heal. They are constantly challenged and until they are either beaten or dead they remain a King Wyvern and they are honored and revered even after death.

Rules:

1. Read everyone’s posts! Not only does this keep us all on the same page, its fun to know your posts are being read and acted upon. Respond to stimuli and events from other player’s posts.

2. Avoid writing one-line posts or extremely long posts. A range of 40-300 words is good to shoot for.

3.Edit before posting, we’re all here to improve as well as enjoy.

4. No God-modding or perfect characters. God characters = boring RP

5. Fighting between characters should be kept to a minimum and I would like to see no killing at all. However, if a fight or killing is unavoidably called for the players concerned must work the action out in PM and both parties should be amenable to the outcome.

6. Do not control another person’s character without their express consent.

7. If a player is AWOL and holding up the game the character will be NPC’d at the GMs’ discretion. If you know you’ll be gone for some time you may hand over your character to another player’s care.

8. Don’t flood the thread with long conversations or extensive actions. Give others a chance to post before moving on.

9. Please discuss any issues in the discussion thread or PM Deathblade15 with your concerns. Gossiping about issues or spamming up the story thread is counterproductive.

10. And lastly… the GM’s word is law!

Character Profile:

Name:
Gender:
Age:
Race:
Occupation:
Appearance:
Personality:
Gear/Weapons:
Background:

Dramatis Personae

deathblade15 [GM] – Taldrin ‘The Cresent’ Eranir – Human – Male – Templar – Captain in the military
CommonGoods - Edward Teach – Human – Male - Magick Gunner – Pirate extraordinaire
Blossom – Kathryn ‘Kit’ Solange – Human – Female – Technician – Daredevil, with brains
Anir – Lyla ‘Boomgirl’ Jenks – Human – Female – Technician – Explosive grease monkey

deathblade15 [GM] – Rishi Falro – Reandir – Male - Paladin – Mystery so far
AnonyMoose - Sen Fenrix – Reandir – Male – Warrior – Prowling on the bright side of life

Teele - Shadaranus ‘Shade’ Kaile – Trejan – Male – Sniper – Man of honour, Zen archer
Anir – Syril Tanth – Trejan – Male – Assassin – Mumbling shadow

But take heart! - Nyx Alif – Palenxi – Male – Wizard – Oblivious garden gnome
Honorius – Alacer – Palenxi – Male – Spell sword – Ego maestro magica

Name:Capt. Taldrin "The Crescent" Eranir
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Race: Human
Occupation: Templar
Appearance: has short silver hair with blue eyes, a small crescent moon shaped scar is over his right cheek. Wears the pearl white and heavy Templarian armor with a sapphire inlace, has a red and gold cape and sash that signifies his rank. Carries around a helmet with a crescent shaped gash on the top of the helm.
Personality: has a kind and caring attitude about him and is a bit informal, doesn't care if anyone calls him sir or not.
Gear/Weapons: a silver greatsword, inscribed on it are runes that say, "honor without glory, glory without humility."
Background: Joined the army at age 20, immediately began training as a knight and earned his rank as captain by securing Fort Holmes in Liera and holding off the enemy waiting for reinforcements to come. This also earned him the title "The Crescent" because he fought them off under a crescent moon.



Name: Rishi Falro
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Race: Reandir
Occupation: Paladin
Appearance: has long navy blue somewhat spiky hair, red eyes and a somewhat humble attitude to his appearance. Wears battle robes with wrist gauntlets, a leather chest plate, boots, and a helmet (looks similar to the Bangaa templars helmet from Final Fantasy Tactics Advanced).
Personality: His personality shows wisdom and honor, rarely jokes around, and knows little about human customs.
Gear/Weapons: A staff with two long blades on each end (think Zidane's(FFIX) butterfly sword)
Background: A well respected paladin master from the town of Erendor. Although his childhood is a mystery what is known is that he is a well seasoned fighter, prowling about the lands, fighting off evil, and defending his hometown from many raids. Asked by his long time friend Taldrin, he is accompanying the group in their quest.

Name: Nyx Alif
Gender: M
Age: 69, and still young.
Race: Palenxi
Occupation: Wizard
Appearance: Short, fat, old. Think 'garden gnome'. Then imagine stretching the garden gnome horizontally, and you've got Nyx. Black eyes, big nose, bald with a little ring of hair around top of head, bearded. Bald spot covered by hat (again, garden gnome) which looks like Mickey Mouse's wizard hat. Y'know, the blue one with stars and a moon on it. Black robe.
Personality: Jolly ol' fool. Clueless, really, but a nice guy. Pity him.
Gear/Weapons: Does not need a combat weapon, but was convinced into the fact that a stick is needed in order to do magic. Carries that around.
Background: Was once a very powerful wizard, then the magic portals, well, you know, they were new technology that had never been tested and, y'know, sometimes the side effects don't wear off. Needless to say, he pretty much forgot everything. Poor guy doesn't even know he can do magic. Doesn't even know he's a pixie. Bawwww... fortunately for him, he came across a guy named Sore while he was taking a stroll one day. Now, Sore was a smart fellow, and he knew what Nyx was, but he feared a pixie with such a lack of control would be best kept in check. He decided to tell Nyx that sticks were necessary for magic. I mean, obviously, if you're concentrating on a stick, you won't be able to make magic, you'll be too busy trying to make the stick light up. Why do you think Wizards don't need weapons? Waste of concentration.

Sort of wanders about aimlessly. Nomad, and all.

Yeah, that's it.

Name: Syril Tanth
Gender: Male
Age: 103
Race: Trejan
Occupation: Assassin
Appearance: Syril has short, curly black hair and different colored eyes. One is yellow and one is green. He's not too sure himself how that came about. Being a assassin, he usually wears dark colors and a cloak, for some reason. He likes the cloak. Don't dis it. He is also somewhat pale and thin. Wears light leather armor, for improved stealth, boots and fingerless gloves.
Personality: Syril has the quick wit of his race, as well as a calm and moody disposition. This usually manifests itself in the fact that he says things out of the blue, with many people wondering if he's serious or if he's joking with them. Due to his assassin's stealth, Syril often startles people by appearing suddenly before them, even when he isn't meaning to scare them. This makes him wonder what it is that is so scary about him. He doesn't make friends easily, but likes animals a lot.
Gear/Weapons: Syril has a short bow and three tantos. He doesn't need that many, he says, but the extras give him a sense of security. He also has a pendant that he claims was a gift from his brother.
Background: Syril has no family he can remember except his brother, Ardan. Syril was about 38 when the portals opened and he came through. He didn't actually fight in the war, being an assassin, but he did do a few covert missions in enemy territory. After the war, he roamed around, doing a few jobs for money and trying to find out if his brother was still alive. He hasn't had any luck. He currently lives in Galmora, near the capital, with one friend, Lyla Jenks.



Name: Lyla "Boomgirl" Jenks
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Race: Human
Occupation: Technician, drives a tank
Appearance: Short curly red hair, big grey eyes, thickly freckled face, has enough muscle to look like she knows what she's doing, slightly short. Usually wears a mechanic's jumpsuit with the top part undone and tied around her waist, combat boots, work gloves, and a handkerchief to keep her hair back. Is usually smeared with dirt and grime and grease from fiddling around with her tank.
Personality: Lyla is a hot-tempered little technician. She makes friends easily and loses them easily too. She seems to have taken a liking to Syril Tanth. Lyla dislikes people who touch her tank without her permission and who call her short. She has a disdain for people who don't know the basics of machinery, which puts her at odds with some of the people around her. She also seems to have a fondness for explosions.
Gear/Weapons: The standard set of mechanic's tools, wrenches, screwdrivers, hammers, whatever she needs. She usually uses her tank, which she nicknamed Artie, for combat. She also has a frightening amount of explosives building equipment.
Background: Lyla was apprenticed to her father when she was eight, and began to learn the ins and outs of being a technician. When she was fourteen, she left her home and traveled around, looking for adventure. She thinks she has found it in the company of Syril, though he adamantly denies this.

Name: Edward Teach

Gender: Male

Age: 24

Race: Human

Occupation: Magick Gunman

Appearance: Blond, blue eyed pretty boy. Spend many years at sea, yet manages to look his very best day after day, much to the delight of many a serving girl. No scars, no birthmarks, nothing. He is, by all means, perfect. And very aware of it.
Edward wears a white, louse fitting blouse and black leather pants. Wears a red and black with a golden buckle for good measure. Flamboyance is a must, whatever he wears.

Personality: As flamboyant as the clothing he wears. Likes the ladies, thinks life is a joke, and he the pun line. Will use, and abuse, the people around him for his own good. Believes himself to be untouchable, although he will never chose to place himself in the heat of battle, preferring to stand back with his dual flintlocks.

Gear/Weapons: Dual flintlocks, a gift from his stepfather. All shiny metal and elaborate silver and gold markings. Also carries a fat pouch, filled with a small fortune worth of gold coins and gemstones.

The flintlocks have fist guards on them, allowing Edward to deal a mean punch, and deflect sword strokes, making him an excellent brawler as well as marksman.

Background: A man of the sea. Edward never knew his parents, but was raised by ‘Red Dog’ McKazne, a pirate of some prestige. He raised Edward as his own son. When the old man died, he initially left his ship and belongings to Edward. The boy took up command at the age of 20, but was soon left ashore by his crewmates, who were less then pleased with his way of leadership. Instead, Edward is now looking to entertain himself in different ways, even joining the Galmoran army. Has made a name for himself as an arrogant bastard, yet at the same time one of the very best marksman in the human kingdom.

More recently, Edward has learned that his ship, the 'Dawn's Harmony', has been seen fighting amongst the Regarian troops. As such, he has set a new goal for himself; to cut a way trough the advancing armies, wreak havoc unlike any ever seen, and regain his beloved hovercraft.

Name: Sen Fenrix

Gender: M

Age: 23

Race: Reandir

Occupation: warrior

Appearance (human form): Stands about 5'10" with tanned skin, a lithe athletic build, unkempt black hair, dark red eyes, a fuzzy black tail, and tribal tattoos all over his body; wears an old straw hat with a chin strap and little cutouts for his ears, black fingerless gloves, and a full suit of rusty armor made of random pieces of scrap metal that makes him look like a walking junkyard
Appearance (wolf form): Stands a little over 6' (on his hind legs) with spiked reddish-brown fur, (rust-colored like his armor,) narrow red eyes, a heavily-muscled frame, black tribal markings all over his body, and the same straw hat on his head; his fur is swept back from head to tail and emulates the properties of his human armor, allowing him to deflect arrows and light melee attacks from the front, but is somewhat weak from behind

Personality: In spite of his harsh appearance, he is very laid back and friendly. He is glad to be here, in the human realm, and enjoys every minute of it. He also likes to collect souvenirs; anything from trash, to dirt, to broken gadgets and machinery. He is hopelessly optimistic and finds the bright side in everything.

Gear/Weapons: He carries two rusty longswords that he made himself from the armor and weapons of other Reandir he defeated in ritualistic combat. In human form, he dual wields them, but in wolf form, he has them strapped to his back; by shifting his back muscles, he can extend them like wings for slashing opponents as he runs by. He also wears a suit of patchwork armor made in the same fashion. It looks like segmented plates of rusty scrap metal strapped and buckled all over his body and offers moderate protection from sword and arrow strikes, but won't stand up to direct attacks or gunfire.

Background: Sen grew up as a warrior in a low-ranking clan of Reandir. When the portal first opened, his clan was denied the right to step through and see what lay on the other side. They were considered not worthy to represent the Reandir in the human realm. Sen was born many years after the first portals opened, but tales of the old days drifted to him in his childhood -- tales of strange human weapons, armor, and magick. He was both fascinated and terrified by the things he heard and made it his life's goal to gain the prestige necessary to be allowed to enter the portal and see these strange and wonderful things with his own eyes. Through many years of hard work, he finally rose above the expectations of his low-born clan and reached the elite ranks of the Reandir. He could not afford the metal to make proper armor and weapons, so he built them out of anything he could find. No one would train him in proper battle techniques, so he tasted defeat many times before he reached the upper ranks. His climb to the top was humbling and he doesn't regret a single moment of it. The human realm has been everything he expected and more.

Name: Kathryn 'Kit' Solange
Gender: Female
Age: 23

Race: Human (Galmoran)
Occupation: Technician; Airship pilot

Appearance: Kit stands about 5'3" with a slender build. She has very dark brown hair cut to about chin length, that she usually keeps tied back in a ponytail with a bandana. Her features are delicate, and dominated by a pair of large, bright blue eyes. She wears a cropped olive-green tshirt with loose, fawn coloured trousers, though when she's working on machinery she has a pair of overalls and a tool-belt.

Personality: Incredibly passionate about her work, Kit has a reputation for being brilliant but reckless. She is something of a wild card, unpredictable but invaluable because of her skill as both pilot and mechanic. She has quite a sharp tongue, but is fairly easy going and it takes a lot to really get her riled up. She won't suffer fools and doesn't like surprises, and considers her ship her 'baby' and is very protective of it.

Gear/Weapons: A rifle she customised, a knife she keeps down one of her boots and she tends to keep two or three magick bombs ready on her belt.

Background: Kit's father was a prestigious pilot in the Galmoran army, so she grew up in and around airships. From early childhood she learnt how to build and maintain engines, and she was flying airships from age ten (unofficially, of course). Her father passed away was she was fifteen, resulting in her developing a devil-may-care attitude and constantly challenging authority. She joined the army when she was eighteen, and quickly made a name for herself as a brilliant young pilot and mechanic, but a constant thorn in her superiors' sides.

Shadaranus "Shade" Kaile

Gender: Male
Age: 124
Race: Trejan
Occupation: Sniper

Appearance: Shade has longish windswept blue-black hair and steel-gray eyes. His form is wiry and he has the appearance of thinness, though he has the long, lean muscles of a runner. He stands 6' 3" tall, with long legs. He tends to dress to blend in with whatever environment he finds himself. He defaults to black clothing in most cases. In the forest he wears earthy tones; brown trousers and buckskin.

Personality: A love of reading, books, and poetry has not stopped Shade from becoming highly ambitious. He is quick-witted and enjoys exchanges of verbal jabs in good fun. He is also very well-read, and has strong beliefs on the nature of right and wrong, and is unafraid to act on them. Often to the point of recklessness. However, most times he has the skill to justify his sometimes-overeager nature. He's an expert marksman, and he falls into an almost trancelike state while shooting, often murmuring passages of poetry as he takes down his opponents one by one.

Gear/Weapons: A longbow; self-made and tailored for Shade's specific use. He refuses to touch any other bow unless he has to. The bow has been enchanted, and now carries the same blue-black color as Shade's hair. The enchantment gives it superior strength, and it cannot be broken except by magical means. Shade also carries a long hunting knife in his belt and another, smaller knife in each boot.

Background: Shade learned his craft from his father who was his model, idol, and best friend. Together, the two of them avenged his mother, who was killed when Shade was only 22. It was nearly fifty years later when they found and silenced her killer. Shade's father was renowned among his people for his skill with the longbow, and taught his son everything he knew. More than that, Shade was taught a love for books and learning.

Shade's father yet lives, but the two have parted to find their seperate ways in the world. Shade has been traveling by himself, acting as a mercenary for Galmorra's military. He will only take jobs that he considers honorable and worthy.

Name: Alacer

Gender: Male

Age: 22

Race: Palenxi

Occupation: Spell sword

Appearance: Sharp featured face with bright, blond, slicked back hair and yellow wings.

Personality: A bit egotistic, thinks that he is smarter than just about everyone around him. Other than that though, he is very adventurous.

Gear/Weapons: Fights with a long rapier with a strong, reinforced point that has been made to conduct electricity extra well.

Background: The son of an Elementalist and an Alchemist, Alacer was raised learning all there was to learn about magick and how to manipulate it. Due to this though, Alacer was never able to really go out and explore the world. So when he turned 21 he left home to explore the new and intriguing human world.

The city of Galmora, a city of aspiration, a city of dreams, a city of hope. Galmora is the capital to a grand empire, and to the royal armies of the king. The streets are bustling with citizens making bargains, trading goods, playing with balls, and running businesses. Above this city, airships of many makes, fly over head, most are merchant ships with goods to disperse across the kingdom; others are military vessels holding well trained knights and loyalists to the Kingdom of Galmora.

At the very center of the city lies the home of King Galmor himself. The pearl white and sapphire laden skyscraper a testament to magick engineering that shall be adorned for ages to come. Within these grand halls echo the footsteps of servants and guards. However one set of footsteps are very much different than the others. The thunderous echo of steel on marble radiates through the halls, accompanying the symphony are two other heavy footsteps.

Three lone figures walk through a hall, one in the middle, with two others escorting him. The two guards on the side are wearing the royal armor, the specifics much different from a normal soldier’s armor and brandishing the kingdom’s crest on their chest plates, both carry heavy enchanted lances. The man in the middle wears the heavy Templar armor, a claymore is sheathed at his belt, a crescent shaped scar is over his cheek the same mark on the brow of his helmet, which is carried underneath his arm. He wears a red cape and a sash with medals signifying his accomplishments and rank. A calm look is on his face, as is his walk, while the guards beside him take stern and serious steps.

They approach a large door; the hall of the king lies beyond it. The Templar stops in his place, while the guards go forward. They approach the standing guards at the door, give a nod, then they open the door. They motion for the Templar to proceed, he complies and follows, the hall is large, glass murals frame the windows, tapestries of the royal crest and the Galmorian flag adorn the halls. A single chair is at the very end of the hall, a man in the same armor as the Templar sits in the chair, however this armor is laden with gold while still attaining its pearl white sheen. This man also bears the royal crest and a crown is placed upon his head, a sword rests, leaning against the throne. The man in the throne is middle-aged, has brown hair with traces of gray and has a beard.

The Templar approaches, stops near the man, and kneels, his head bowed low.

“What is your will my king?” asks the Templar.

“Rise Captain Taldrin, you know not to take such formalities with an old friend.”

“I still believe in the royality formalities my lord, but if you insist upon it,” he stands up, “then I suppose I could treat you as a friend.”

The king rises from his seat and embraces the man, “Taldrin my old friend, still the same as ever.”

“I do what works Galmor, and you’re still as old as ever, starting to get a bit gray I see.”
Both men laugh at the comment, then Galmor gets serious,

“You’re wondering why I’ve called you here.”

“I’ve been stationed over in Falchion for about 6 months now and then I receive a message from you saying to return to the capital immediately for some urgent business, of course I’m wondering why you called me here. So have at it man.”

“Tyria has fallen Taldrin.”

Taldrin’s calmed expression turns to solemn, “what? Who’s responsible for this?”

“We have unconfirmed reports of various humans invading the town and wreaking havoc, they wore some powerful armor and had strong weapons and magick, other than that, that’s all we know.”

“Damnation,” he looked up, there was something in the king’s eyes that looked like he had something else going on, “what else is there Galmor?”

“We’ve had some reports of what looked like Galrin working with the Braksha, along with armored men bearing the crest of Regara. We believe their empire has risen once more.”

“Then what do we do?”

“I’ve assembled a team, they’ve gathered to Galmora and are currently in the town, guards will come to them sometime this morning to retrieve them and escort them to the stratagem hall here.”

“Then you’ll get to explaining everything then?”

“Yes, that I guarantee Taldrin,” his expression brightened a bit, “on another note, I’ve also had the courtesy to request one of your old friends.”

“Who might that be?”

Galmor turned, “You can come out now.”

A bluish gray wolf came from behind a door and walked over to the two men, as he was walking he instantly transformed into a man wearing battle robes. As he came next to them, he bowed low to Taldrin, when he raised up he started speaking, “good to see you again captain.”

“Rishi, good to see you friend, have you learned anymore about human customs?”

“Not as much as I’d like, human vulgarisms is still a confusing term to me, as is their… slang, I do believe that is the word.”

“We’ll have to get you situated then.”

“Oh no thank you, I’ve already been informed of the situation and memorized it by heart.”

Taldrin laughed, “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

* * *

Act 1, Chapter Prolouge

Galmorian soldiers and technicians are located within the academy on the north side of Galmora. Other races are currently situated at the local inn, on the west side. You’ve arrived a day ago from your homeland or cities you’ve been stationed in.

-Introduce your characters and where they are from
-Interact with an NPC
-explore the city, use your imagination of the places
-eventually have Galmorian Guards escort you to the castle's strategum hall

The accomodations were middle-class; the food, decent; the drink, fair; the women, pretty; the company, friendly. The entire inn spoke of a status quo; a persistent average feel all around that comforted those who lived in rutted, planned lives; and bored and rejected those who had tended to extremes.

Most of them, anyway. Shade realized as he sat in a corner, his bow leaning on the table before him, that he could easily adjust to such a thing. Marry; have children, live a long, contented, ordinary life. He didn't suppose it was such a shock. After all, that sort of life was all his father had wanted after he had found his love.

The thought, however, was fleeting. Shade knew that now certainly wasn't his time to settle and live averagely. The voice in him that begged for excitement, fulfillment, and recognition still spoke louder than all thoughts of a quieter existence. That, in fact, was the very reason he had been called back to Galmora.

He stood, and slung his bow back over his shoulder as it had been before. It felt comfortable and natural there; as it did in his hsnds. Like an extension of himself. He walked to the counter and placed a few coins there for his tab and his room. He then strode out onto the busy streets.

Galmora was a different monster than Treja. Here, everything bustled, and the Galmorian policy of 'magic to aid the people' was prevalent. Wheeled vehicles went about their ways on paved streets, airships could be seen overhead, the grinding of machines could be heard as one passed by the factories. It had its own kind of life and beauty, and while Shade could appreciate it, he missed the quiet solitude of his home. Here, one lost the simple senses of nature to the activity and the bustle. Treja was quiet enough that one could feel the life in the grass and trees themselves.

"'The woods endure, the sky sings foerever; bring me again, bring me again; to my fair Treja.'" Shade whispered aloud as he smiled.

It was all amazing. Simply amazing. The food, the drink, the women... amazing. And this was just the inn. The rest of the town must be splendid as well. From the moment he had stepped off the airship, everything about this city had been nothing less than heaven on earth.

Sen sighed and leaned back in his chair, a delighted smile creeping across his face, as he stared dreamily at the empty plate before him. He considered ordering another, just to experience the taste again, but he didn't want to seem greedy, so he decided against it. Just because he looked like a dog, doesn't mean it's okay to eat like one. There were already enough myths and rumors about the 'wolf people' and their bad habits.

He hailed the nearest waitress, so he could pay his tab and be on his way. A voluptuous young lady on the other side of the room answered his call and came immediately, narrowly avoiding a Trejan man with a bow over his shoulder. Sen's attention was drawn to the Trejan rather than the serving girl. He was so interested in seeing what Galmora's human population had to offer, that he hadn't even considered how much fun it would be to meet a Trejan, a Palenxi, or another Reandir like himself. This place is AMAZING, he thought as he watched the Trejan archer walk out the door.

'"Excuse me, sir," the serving girl said, bringing him back to reality. His red eyes briefly met hers, but slowly made their way down to the necklace she was wearing -- a rather cheaply-made chain of bronze or copper links that disappeared into her ample cleavage. His gaze remained locked there, in a trance-like state, studying the necklace, not its resting place. He wanted something to remember this inn by and had considered asking her if he could take a fork or knife or spoon as a keepsake, but this seemed so much better.

His hand mechanically reached out to touch it and feel the warm metal between his fingers. But before he could make contact, a hard slap across his face left him staring in the other direction with a painful stinging sensation on his cheek. "You filthy dog," she said. "Leave!"

"I... I apologize," he said slowly, rubbing the sore spot on the side of his face. "I did not mean to offend. I come from a tiny vilalge on the outskirts of Barria, where contact is an integral part of social interaction. This is not Barria. This is not where I come from." He bowed his head to show respect and beg her forgiveness. "I merely wanted to ask about that necklace. It is beautiful. The food and the people in this establishment have been nothing less than awe-inspiring and I felt that it would make a perfect memento. But, alas, you have given me something else to remember you by," he added with a smile as he pointed to the reddening spot on his cheek. He placed his payment on the table and stood to leave. "Thank you very much. This will do quite nicely." He tipped his hat and turned toward the door. "That's probably more words than you cared to hear, so I'll be on my way."

"Wait," she said, catching up with him. He turned to face her. "Here," she removed the necklace and offered it to him. His eyes widened with delight. "It ain't worth much. Just somethin' I picked up in a little shop by - ahhhh!"

She was cut short when he swept her up in his arms and gave her a tremendous hug. "Thank you soooo much. Oh, you're an angel," he said with a huge smile on his face, not caring at all that people were beginning to stare. "You gave me two things. People don't usually give me two things. That's special. That's... amazing." He released her, tipped his hat, and darted out the door, too happy and excited to remain in one spot for long. The waitress watched him leave with a rather confused expression on her face.

Once outside, he took one last look at the bronze trinket he had acquired, then shoved it in the satchel on his back. In a flurry of controlled chaos, he changed into his wolf form and dropped down on all fours. He wanted to see the entire city before he got called to do whatever it was he came here to do, so he picked a direction and started running. His heavy paws pounded the pavement. Women, children, and even grown men shrieked like little girls as he darted by, nearly knocking them off their feet. Sorry, he thought, but stopped for no one. He wanted to gather as many sights, smells, and sounds as possible and that meant he had to keep moving.

“I’m telling you, I saw one.”

Edward leant forward, a grin on his face, his large blue eyes seeking her brown ones. The girl he was talking to was smiling as well, shaking her head but keeping her eyes on one of the books in front of her. A pretty girl. His type. An intelligent girl. His type. A girl without too many complications. His type.

She shook her head again at his statement, before finally looking up. “I’m telling you, there are no such things as mermaids! I would have heard of them.” The statement was followed by a small laugh as Edward put his hands behind his head and sighed theatrically. “Besides, how would a soldier like you know about mermaids?

Edward made a disproving sound. “A soldier? A pirate first, dear. A pirate captain, even!” The girl seemed skeptical, and Edward couldn’t blame her. Four years since his vessel had been taken from him. Four years since he had last traveled by sea. And not a day that he didn’t regret giving up the ‘Dawn’s Harmony’ without a fight.

“A pirate captain? You?” The words hurt. Even without a ship, he still dressed according to the status he had been robbed from. Then again, this girl had probably never met a pirate. She had probably never even seen the ocean, or traveled by hovercraft. Bloody Galmorians and their airships.

He was about to object, finish the tale and instead start talking her into his room tonight, when someone tapped him on his shoulder. Turning around, his smile faded. Thomas something, a member of the ‘team’ or ‘squad’ or whatever he himself was supposedly part of. The only good thing about the pup was his near endless devotion to others. A weakness Edward was happy to abuse.

“Sir. Your weapons, sir.” Without a word, he took the box the man was holding and took out his two flintlock rifles. They had been damaged in a brawl a few days ago, when some nitwit had swung a ridiculously oversized sword t him. He had deflected, barely, but with the barrel rather than the guards. There had been several dents and scratches, but the blacksmith had done a good job, and now the weapons seemed brand new. “And sir, you should know, sir, there are members of the Guard looking for you.”

Damned. Probably another complaint, perhaps another angry father. The last time that had happened, he had spend a night in the brig. Well, that wasn’t going to happen again. The food was terrible there. And no female visitors allowed. Giving the woman a final charming smile, he grabbed Thomas’ shoulder and dragged the man along.

“You didn’t see me.” The man opened his mouth to object, but closed it again as Edward pushed one of his flintlocks against his lower jaw. “You. Didn’t. See. Me.” With that, he gave the man a slap on the shoulder, and started heading to the stairs.

As the barmaid passed by him again, Syril Tanth raised his hand and opened his mouth to speak. However, the barmaid's eyes seemed to skip past him and she swept past his table to take the order of the man next to him. Syril sighed and lowered his hand. Was it his curse to never be noticed by anyone? It had taken him hours to get a room because the innkeeper hadn't noticed him until then, and Syril's voice had been lost in the din of the bar. As he was about to try to get the waitress’ attention again, there was a loud exclamation from beside him, followed by what sounded like a wrench being brought down on the table. In fact, it was a wrench being brought down on the table.

“Oy! What’s a man got to do to get a drink around here?”

This statement was followed by another bang of the wrench. Blinking in a slightly confused manner, Syril turned to his companion, a short red-headed girl covered in grease.

“You are neither a man nor old enough to drink,” he said in his quiet, almost gentle voice.

The girl, a one Lyla Jenks, grinned broadly at him, her teeth slightly stained by grease, which ruined the effect.

“Well, for one, I am old enough to drink, but for another, I can’t stand to see you sitting there like a drunk duck and being ignored by everyone.”

“You don’t ignore me,” pointed out Syril. “And by the way, I do not think it is advisable to use your wrench in that manner.”

Lyla wrinkled her nose.

“Why?” she asked, and then looked down at the table underneath her wrench. It was pitted with dents, the scars of the heavy wrench’s assault.

“Hm. They just don’t make tables like they used to, do they?” she grinned, surreptitiously slipping the wrench back into her tool-belt. The waitress finally came to Syril’s table, where he ordered his drink and Lyla asked for a sandwich.

While they were waiting for their food, they began to discuss the odd summons that had been given to them earlier that morning.

“What do you suppose they want us for?” asked Lyla, fiddling with her tools, a nervous habit of hers.

“I don’t know,” replied Syril. Lyla looked at him sharply.

“I think they’re going to ask you to kill someone. Why else would they ask an assassin?”

Syril frantically shushed her. He did not like his job being mentioned in this inn. Too many loose tongues were to be found here. Lyla did not seem to notice and continued.

“Of course, that begs the question as to why they wanted me. I’m a mechanic, there’s no need for one on an assassination.”

Syril ran his hands through his hair. Lyla was frustrating to be around, yet he had a certain tolerance for her. She seemed determined that he was an exciting person to be around, and could not be convinced otherwise. However, he was spared from any more of Lyla’s ramblings when their food arrived.

“Thank you,” he murmured at the waitress, smiling at her. She smiled back, but then her smile faltered as she noticed his eyes. Syril ducked his head. He did not like attention being drawn to his eyes, as they were different colors; something looked upon as strange and unnatural. Lyla seemed to be the only one who didn’t care.

As he sipped his drink, Lyla devoured her sandwich, and when they were finished, Syril paid and they were on their way. Outside, a soldier stood, leaning against the wall. As he noticed them, he stood up straight.

“Syril Tanth?”

“Yes?” replied Syril, his hand straying to his three tantos.

“Lyla Jenks?”

“Present!” proclaimed Lyla, licking one of her fingers to remove the mustard.

“I am here to escort you to the castle. Please follow me.”

Syril looked at Lyla, who grinned and followed the soldier. Syril sighed and followed as well.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Pardon me, sir?" Asked Nyx meekly.

"Piss off, asshole." replied the locked, wooden door.

"Well, no need to be rude!"

He gave a sad look to the locked door, and waddled off in search of another outhouse.

The park, he decided, was the world. Not 'the world' as in 'important to him', but the world as in 'this stupid park goes on forever, and you can never escape it'. As a nomad, he'd been to many places, some more pleasant than others. However, this park was something else. The trees were unnaturally cut into pointy bowling pin shapes, and the sidewalks were deep orange. The grass seemed a little too perfect.

Perhaps... he thought, as he stalked towards a tree.

How shall I go abouts doing this? he pondered, as he held the end of his robes up with both hands.

He used his left hand and elbow to hold his robes up, as he moved his right about his underwear.

"CEASE!"

Dropping everything, he snapped around to notice two guards staring at him. Clearly unimpressed.

"Oh, hello!" said Nyx, with a smile.

"Sir, that is quite a deplorable action." spoke the taller guard.

"Oh HEAVENS no. I would never do such a thing! Good grief! I am a man of class, and though I enjoy ogling a beautiful woman once in a while, I respect! Please!"

The guards exchanged looks.

"Sir, it is our obligation to take you down to station so you may fill out a statement regarding your actions."

"Marvin," the second, quieter guard turned to the first (clearly called, Marvin),"we were called to go to that thing at the strategum hall..."

"Right, but this bug's gonna pee all o'er the park."

"So, we take him wid us, no way in hell he'll try any funny stuff near the kin--"

"Pardon me, but nature happens to be calling, and I don't believe I can hold the phone any longer." Nyx chuckled to himself for only a second. A longer laugh and he'd soak his robes.

"Yeah, we'll take this guy widd us." Marvin picked Nyx up by the waist, and held him with his right arm.

"EXCUSE ME! I have yet to answer the phone!"

Nyx yelped as the guards took a five second walk away from the park's path, and ended up in a round, blue parking-lot.

"Old man, that's the least of our concerns."

He was dragged towards a pink, floating egg, which did not look like it could fit three people.

"Alright, sikko, get in there, put your seatbelt on, and keep the seat dry. We'll be in there in a bit."

He ambled into the egg, quite awkwardly, really.

Seatbelt? Good grief! Perhaps the egg factory will have nice washrooms...

The two men squeezed their masses into the small hole of an entrance.

"Alright, stay between us," said the second guard, as he stepped on Nyx's stomach to get on the other side of him, "and don't try anything."

Marvin was busy, pressing away at various colored buttons.

"Hold on Relick. You too, sir."

The egg seemed to spin on a lateral axis, quick as lightning that egg was. Nyx could see his cheeks flapping beside him. He lifted his short, stubby arms and grinned with his wind-blown lips. The sensation only lasted seconds.

The egg stopped abruptly, leaving two dizzy soldiers.

"Blugh, Marvin, I hate the Tremsporters."

Marvin was already rushing his way out of the egg, quickly followed by Nyx. Relick stomped on the pool of sweat he'd made in those few seconds.

Once outside, Nyx noticed they were no longer close to the park, but were now in front of a large staircase. He did not care.

"Alright, Relick, the strategum hall is up these stairs, three turns to the right, and one to the left."

"Well, men, t'has been a pleasure, really. I thank you for the fun ride, and for providing me with a proper washroom."

Relick cringed. All of a sudden he was very aware that he had not been sweating.

Shade stepped abruptly to the side as he walked, making way for a large wolf to tear off down the street beside him. Interesting. The idea of a a wild predator running loose in Galmora didn't hold much sway. In Treja, yes, but not here. The only realistic conclusion was that the overeager wolf was in fact, a Reandir.

Shade smiled. This would be an interesting trip.

"Shadaranus Kaile?" Shade stopped and turned in the direction of the voice. A pair of guards were marching up the street toward him.

"Can I help you, gents?" The approached him and stopped.

"Yes, we've been sent to escort you to the castle."

"Ah, good. Lead on, gentlemen." The trio made their way in the opposite direction, and one of the guards held up a hand to stop one of the vehicles.

"Ehm." Shade said, looking the vehicle over. "Would you mind if we walked?" The guard glanced at him.

"It's perfectly safe."

"Oh, I'm sure! But it's an unfamiliar thing to me, and I'd prefer to adjust a little more naturally if at all possible." The guard waved the vehicle on.

"Have it your way."

"My thanks." The remainder of the journey to the castle was a good-length walk. Shade could have cut the time in half if he was running. As they traveled, Shade kept his attention on the people, in all their variety. He wondered how long they'd be here. Galmora would make a very interesting study.

When they at last arrived, Shade was brought in through a grand foyer to the chamber in which they were to meet.

Kit soon lost track of time as she ambled through the streets. She stopped briefly to grab something to eat, then resumed her walk down to the row of electronic shops just outside of the centre of the city. Galmora was well known for having the most up-to-date technology, and Kit was a regular customer at many of the shops.

Today, however, she didn't get much time for browsing. She was examining some of the products on display in the windows when a shout came from up the streets.

"Solange!"

Straightening, she turned to see a pair of guards walking towards her with one of her superiors, Captain Theodore Argyle.

"Hallo, Theo," she greeted him with an impish grin.

The Captain scowled darkly at her. "That's 'Sir' or 'Captain' to you, Solange."

"My apologies. Who are your friends?"

One of the guards stepped forward. "You are Kathryn Solange, the pilot and technician?"

"Yes," Kit nodded warily.

"We've been sent to escort you to the castle."

"Ah. Am I in trouble?"

Argyle rolled his eyes. "I wish."

Kit grinned. "Well, then, lead the way gentlemen."

The city was a blur. Sen caught brief glimpses of a little of everything as he ran through the streets, keeping pace with the traffic. Shop windows and pedestrians flew past. Hover vehicles headed in the opposite direction glinted like flashbangs. Even scents -- bakeries, factories, machine oil, smoke, meat -- came and went at breakneck speed. He was viewing the entire city on fastforward, determined to experience it all before they come for him.

The only things that didn't seem to appear and disappear from his senses were the airships overhead. They seemed to follow him, like the moon on a cloudless night, reminding him of home. Yeah... the moon... no matter how fast you run it's always there. A wave of nostalgia overtook him, but he was brough back to reality when he darted past a Trejan man with a bow. The same one from the inn? No way. What are the chances? Sen told himself and continued running. Surely he would cross paths with another before the day was through.

"Slow down!" came a loud voice from behind him. It was inhumanly loud. He glanced over his shoulder and saw what appeared to be a patrol vehicle of some sort. A uniformed man was hanging out of the window, speaking through some kind of device, while the other drove. A loudspeaker? Are they talking to me? Sen had seen such things before, but he had never been addressed by one. It was usually a bad thing. Did I do something bad?

He tried to stop, but the sound of claws scraping pavement made it clear that wasn't going to happen as quickly as he'd hoped. He skidded a few meters, then caught a crack in the pavement and was sent head over paws, tumbling across the sidewalk, until he crashed into the side of a group of trashcans. The patrol car pulled onto the sidewalk, stopped in front of him, and two guards exited the vehicle.

"Move along. Nothing to see here," one of them said, clearing away the crowd of onlookers. The other guard approached the pile of wrecked cans and scattered trash. The look on his face seemed to say 'there's no way in Hell I'm going in there to get him'.

But Sen soon emerged from the wreckage. He climbed out, in human form, and looked curiously around himself. "Problem officers?" They weren't officers at all; clearly military.

"Sen Fenrix?" one of them asked. Sen only nodded. "Come with us. Your presence is needed at the Stratagem Hall." Sen was too busy collecting the trash and putting it back into its proper place to hear a word of this. "Hurry up," the guard repeated. The other guard was already in the hovercar, waiting.

"Just a minute," Sen said, tying up one of the trash bags and stuffing it into the can, then placing the lid on top. "All done... oh, wait." He picked up a bottlecap from the ground and dropped it into his pocket. "Now, were done," he added with a smile.

The second guard slowly shook his head in disappointment, then opened the door for Sen to enter. Sen removed his swords, took a seat in the back, and laid them across his lap, while the guard got into the front passenger seat. The car lifted a few inches off the ground, merged with the other traffic, and they were on their way.

"I've never been arrested before," Sen said after a long silence. "I figured it would be a lot more violent. I would like to thank you two gentlemen for being very kind to me despite my criminal ways."

"You ain't under arrest you idiot," the driver said. The other guard just shook his head again. "You've been summoned to the castle. They want you for something."

"Oh... okay then... But you don't have to be so rude about it," Sen said. "I just thought I had broken the 'running law'."

"Running law?"

Sen looked out the window again. "Yes, the running law. Look around. Only the machines move fast. The people just walk. That's because only machines are allowed to move fast. Running without a car is against the law." He sighed. "I wish I had noticed it sooner, before I broke the law," he said sadly. "Now I'm a criminal."

"You f**king moron," the guard said. "There's no law againt running." The other guard laughed. Sen laughed too, though he wasn't sure why. All three of them laughed.

* * * *

The Stratagem Hall was as big as he'd hoped and twice as amazing. "Amazing," Sen said as he entered the large building. He liked the sound the marble floor made as he walked. Metal shoes and marble... mmmm. He glanced around for something to remember this place by, but everything was either too large to take, or was bolted to the floor. The furnishings were scarce.

He continued on to the foyer where he found - "No way," he said. The Trejan archer again! Three times in one day. That's a lucky number, isn't it? Remembering his encounter with the waitress, he made sure to keep his excitement in check. People didn't seem to like being hugged or touched or anything of the sort. Or maybe it's just women who don't like that sort of thing, he thought.

"Hi. How ya doin'?" he said very nonchalantly as he approached the Trejan. He waved lightly, then clasped his hands behind his back, innocently.

Edward took a large bite out of one of the two apples, only one of them paid for. Even though money had never been an issue since he had enlisted, old habits died hard, especially if you didn’t want to change. And Edward wasn’t planning on changing. He was planning on regaining his ship. And every day, new information trickled in about a ship fighting amongst the Ragarian Empire. A hovercraft. The ‘Dawn’s Harmony’.

‘Classified’ information, of course. Hilarious. All that ‘classified’ meant was that he needed to drop some extra coins at the right people. And the Magick Gunman job paid well. Almost too well. Something big was coming up; he had been given a raise four times in the last six months. Almost like they wanted him to stay put.

“Private Teach!” Edward nearly choked on a throat full of apple as he tried to swallow and curse at the same time. A brief look over his shoulder revealed two figures in heavy plating, carrying the symbol of the Galmorian royal house. Crap.

He turned around slowly, hands in the air as the two figures approached. If there were two of these walking trashcans here, there would be more. “Gentleman, can I help you?” They hadn’t drawn their weapons yet. That was a sign of stupidity. Good for him. “What would bring two of Galmoria’s finest to a back alley like this?”

“We are to escort you to the Stratagem Hall.” The map room? What the hell. That was near the King’s Quarters. What had he done, or rather, who had he done that he had an audience with the self appointed head of state.

He briefly considered giving the two of them a bullet in the leg and getting out of town, but surely enough, another two metal clad soldiers came from behind. No way out of this. Edward sighed. “Very well gentlemen. Lead the way.”

The trip to the Stratagem Hall had not been quite as long as Syril had anticipated, as they took one of the hover cars. While Syril was content to sit quietly and look out the window, mentally recording the layout of the city, Lyla could not contain her excitement.

"Gee, we got escorted and everything! This must be pretty big, Sy!" she paused, and then looked forward to the dashboard.

"You know," she said to the two guards, "if you let me under the hood of this thing, I could probably have it running twice or three times as fast as it is now."

The guard who was not driving scowled at her.

"Hey, shorty, sit down and shut up. This is a regulation car, and we aren't gonna let you mess it up."

Lyla smiled, though her eyes were slits.

"Of course," she spat, her hand straying to her toolbelt.

Noticing danger, Syril reached out a hand and pulled Lyla back into her seat. The girl continued to glare at the guard, her hand wrapped around one of her larger wrenches. The rest of the trip was silent, though Lyla did not let up glaring at the guard who had dared to call her "short."

* * * *

The Stratagem Hall was huge, majestic, and to Syril, totally without hiding spots or extra exits. Which made him a little jumpy. Finally, he found a patch of shadow and leaned against it, relieved to have some sort of concealment in this room. Lyla, not being an assassin, did not notice or care. What she did notice was the Reandir standing with his hands behind his back.

Leaving Syril, she walked over to him. After staring at each other for a few moments, Lyla spoke.

"Hi! I'm Lyla, who're you?"

Sen stared at the Trejan man. He seemed to have an unnatural calmness and Sen had disrupted that calmness. Rather than disturb him further, he just stood by, waiting for the man to respond, assuming the man would respond. Maybe he doesn't feel like talking.

Hearing footseps approaching, Sen suddenly turned to face the door. A young lady and -- oh my god! -- another Trejan entered the room. It must be my lucky day, Sen thought. Two of them in less than ten minutes. Now all he needed was a Palenxi or some other strange creature and his sightseeing would be complete. He could die a happy man after that.

He stared at the new Trejan, who seemed just as reserved as the first. The man entered the room, looking rather pale and uneasy, and immediately found himself a shadowy corner to hide in. The young lady, on the other hand, came straight for Sen. He smiled as she approached. She seemed friendly. He hadn't met many friendly humans. Most of them didn't like to talk and certainly didn't like to be touched.

"Hi! I'm Lyla, who're you?" she said.

He suddenly realized he'd been staring. The last woman he'd stared at slapped him. Fortunately, 'Lyla' seemed a little less violent than her. Maybe she wouldn't mind a hug.

Of course. A hug. He grabbed Lyla in a bearhug and squeezed her. With his rusty armor and all her tools, it was very uncomfortable. Too many large metal objects pressed between them. But it's the thought that counts. "Sen," he said. "Sen Fenrix. A pleasure to meet you Miss Lyla." He released her. She didn't look happy. "Another hug?" he asked. Maybe he hadn't done it right.

Lyla felt somewhat confused. She hadn't expected to be hugged by a Reandir the moment she introduced herself, but somehow she didn't mind too much. At least he was friendly, she thought.

"Another hug?"

She realized he was asking for another hug. She smiled.

"Okay, but this time don't squeeze so hard. I couldn't breathe."

* * * *

Meanwhile, Syril was surveying the room. He had noticed the other Trejan almost immediately, but for now he did not approach him, preferring to stand in the shadows. Lyla seemed to be making friends with a Reandir. She should be fine, and the Reandir should be fine too, as long as he didn't call her short.

Syril was becoming nervous. They were being held here, but no one was coming to talk to them. He clutched at his pendant.

I need your courage, brother.

"Okay, but this time don't squeeze so hard," Lyla said. "I couldn't breathe."

Sen hugged her again, just as tightly as the first attempt, but lifted her off her feet this time. "Amazing," he said, for no reason in particular. He placed her down and took a step back to get a good look at her. Grease. Overalls. Toolbelt. Wrenches. Short hair. "You must be a mechnician," he said enthusiastically. "You know, one of those people who work on mechanical stuff --oh, technician, sorry. You now what I meant." He paused to think for a moment. "Anyway... Do you ever work on big airships? You seem like you'd be perfect for that sort of thing, 'cuz you're small enough to get into tight spaces and stuff."