[NPC] Jane Harbinger's Story

Ophelia based the black flagstone in front of the main doors to her academy, ignoring the four individuals who stood across from the glorious redwood barrier between them and their waiting students. "This will be a tough year. Monstrum's academy evidently has a fine stock, and is growing. We can't let them pull anything, and we can't let up our pursuit for The Mask, even for a day. Artyom, I will need you to get into contact with your CQC team. Ethan, I will need you to keep up public appearances. Jane, no shooting any students. Yet." The two men nodded and saluted - Artyom did so cleanly, while Ethan did so in a casual manner. The woman scoweled but said nothing. Ophelia came to a stop in front of the scantily clad master wizard, pausing a moment before clearing her voice and speaking. "Now. Pyra. If you sleep with any students and it begins to interfere with their teaching, I will let Jane put a bullet in you." This elicited a "woo hoo!" and a fist pump from the teacher of the Soldier field of study.

Artyom shifted and stepped forward as Ophelia nodded at them and circled, standing behind the three remaining teachers, causing them to part. The man in the gas mask reached up to the handle and removed the board that kept the two large doors in place before pulling them open to reveal the students awaiting.

"Dibs on the psychotic looking one"

Anselm had been chauffeured by his church, the priest himself standing behind the young man. His ragged coat still having blood stains in it from his first kill, a wide-brimmed hat slanted down over his eyes, bloodshot from many sleepless nights. His white hair dangles down from under the hat, bleached by the ravages of the creature's venom. Around his neck a crucifix hangs on a silver chain. Anselm trembles, his bloodshot eyes fixated on the academy. The old man reaches to comfort him but finds that he's actually... chuckling. He withdraws, furrowing his brow with a quizzical look.

"Worry yourself none, father, I ain't worried or nothin'. Quite the contrary really." Anselm says in a raspy voice, taking out some painkillers and munching down on them. The residual toxins chronically making the inside of his body feel like it were on fire. Despite best efforts the doctors could not drain it out of his blood entirely. "Best be headed along now, father, I can m'self from here, yer flock needs you n' all."

"T-try to behave yourself my child." The priest says in a strained voice, hesitantly patting Anselm on the shoulder before heading to his car. As he heads to the car he waves the sign of the cross and mumbles, "May Lord have mercy..." When he gets into the car he waves his driver to leave immediately. As he drives off the priest pulls out a canteen and begins downing its contents.

"Now, can't be mak'n promises I can't keep." Says to himself while taking off his hat, a grin across his scarred face. "That would lyin', an' it be a sin."

The shadow shall pause and break before the path of the righteous, those made animate by rage and faith. And where I walk, there is no evil. The large, Humvee-like vehicle jostled over a dip in the road. Half the inside had been torn apart and turned into a few more seats. Some safety features were removed to make more room for equipment, making it more like a personnel transport. Next to her, a man swayed with the motion, his shoulder bumping into hers accompanied by the characteristic sound of leather whispering across fabric. She did not open her eyes. Though the trees of deceivers rise above and blot out the sky with their sick, black leaves, I do not falter. There is no path I will not follow if commanded. There is no cave I will not explore, no danger I will not face. There is no time I would not give my life if my superiors command it. The great enemy hides and lies, but where I walk, there is no evil. The breathing of so many people in such a small place fogged up the windows, condensing against the rain-cooled glass. The rumble of the engine overcame the sound with ease. Duty is my whip. Faith is my shield. Rage is my sword. And where I walk, there is no evil.

"Scribed Kayha." Her eyes snapped open and focused on the woman sitting in the passenger seat next to the driver. She held a clipboard in her hand. A list of names meandered down the page, names of academies crouching near them. "We have nearly arrived at your destination." The mage crossed Kayha's name off the list. Earlier in the journey, the vehicle held nine people. Seven crammed in the back, and the two in the front. By this point, only the one-eyed Flesh-Scribed and two people remained. Soon, it would be the two. Even though seats emptied up and the space increased, each of the three steadfastly remained in the seat they'd been assigned.

On her right, Jorin signed "This is it." She nodded slightly in response. "If all goes well, we might see each other again in a few years." Possibly. Unlikely, but possibly. Kayha almost nodded again, but Benjamin on her left reached across her chest and gripped Jorin's hands, effectively muzzling the blond-haired, sentimental guy. After a few moments, he let go and leaned back in his seat, eyes closed. Though there was no spoken rule about keeping quiet during this final ride as a cadre, they hadn't spoken to... lessen the impact. More likely than not, these few who grew up together, trained together, excelled together, and watched their friends die together, would never see each other again after that day. It was how The Inquisition liked it. It was, by extension, how the Flesh-Scribed liked it.

The vehicle slid to a stop. It was time. Smoothly rising from her seat, Kayha climbed over one of the seats and crouched in the back, grabbing her things. Though she only had a small bag for personal effects - little more than clothes, a package of Altoids, and some polish for her false eye, her 'suitcase' held much more interesting items. Her gun, built and engraved by The Inquisition's magician gunsmiths. Though it was not enchanted, the weapon could be loaded with varying kinds of ammunition deadly to the horrific side of the world. Her armour, in pieces, also rested within the case. As she strapped her two greatswords to her back for easy transport, the Flesh-Scribed had the strangest feeling that she wouldn't be using it often. Popping the back open, she hopped out and dragged her two bags out with her. Shouldering the one full of clothes, she dragged the wheeled suitcase full of everything else behind her. In the drizzle, her jet-and-aquamarine eye shined brilliantly. The aquamarine's hard facets refracted the diffuse light, while the smooth jet almost glowed white where the light glanced off it.

Already a few people stood outside. Teachers, most likely, and some students. Pulling up short behind one who had a hat of some kind, Kayha's stance turned stone-solid and cold, her face equally as uninviting. All her training dictated that she wait to be addressed by an authority before doing anything, but some of her cadre's pack mentality remained, making her feel less uncomfortable when standing near others.

Behind her, the Inquisition vehicle drove off in a spray of water.

Kain stared as what seemed to be an armoured transport stopped near where he was standing. Out came a woman, taller than he, and visibly....are those scars? He did his best to compose himself as he walked up to the girl, noticing what looked like a case. "Enchanté, mademoiselle," he greeted. "Would you like me to carry that for you? It seems quite heavy, and I don't have much of anything to carry."

There was only one explanation for Kain actually initiating conversation; he was uncomfortable. He lived most his life away from an actual society, and so this was beyond unfamiliar to him--it was alien. Unknowing of what he was supposed to do, Kain thought it best to rely on those who did, and to learn. Learning, and adapting, to what was going to be his life would be the most important keystone in his survival here. And while this girl seemed new as well, she definitely wasn't inexperienced, just based off of seeing that transportation of hers. She was his best chance.




OOC:

Color for speech: #4c0404
Color for interaction or mention: #044c4c

Sophia Rosendahl
Sophia sat in the back seat of the principal's car as they drove along down the twisty and turny roads of the mountain, Ms. Scott carefully reading the directions she had been sent along with Sophia's admission letter - "Turn left" Sophia interrupted Ms. Scott's internal thoughts, "Yes, I know Sophia" Ms. Scott replied in her as-usual teacherly tone, "Turn right" Sophia said, "Yes, I kno-" "Turn left!" "Sophia! BE QUIET!" Ms. Scott shouted, Sophia sat back in her seat and grinned, looking out the window as Ms. Scott continued on driving up the winding path of the rocky mountains, mumbling the directions under her breath in obvious confusion now that Sophia had successfully gotten her flustered.

Eventually the two ended up at their required destination, Ms. Scott put the car into park and peered out of the window with a slight tinge of worry on her face. Sophia was already out of the backseat, violin case in one hand, suitcase dragged along behind her in the other. There already seemed to be a crowd of a few others outside of the gates, "Hi guys!~" Sophia chimed, addressing the whole group regardless of gender despite having called them all 'guys'. Ms. Scott trotted after Sophia in a hurry, struggling to breath as she got to where Sophia was standing and placed her hand on Sophia's shoulder, "D-don't run off like that, Sophia" Ms. Scott wheezed, then attempting to cover it up as she saw the others whom Sophia was talking to, "Oh. Uhm. Hello." Ms. Scott gave a weak smile and pathetic wave to the group, which made Sophia's eyes roll, she would have argued about how 'un-cool' Ms. Scott was making her look in front of everybody, but she was distracted as she heard a clanking and a creaking of the gates being opened. From beyond the large gates, Sophia spotted what she assumed to be the teachers and in front of them, the principal. A wide grin spread across Sophia's lips, she couldn't wait to start using her magic more and more, her mind got lost in thought of how awesome her time here was going to be - so much so that she didn't even hear Ms. Scott say her goodbyes, and to get annoyed when she assume Sophia wasn't listening. Ms. Scott then proceeded to shake her head and turn, walking back to the car and getting in it to drive off, somewhat relieved to finally be rid of Sophia.

"Well, we're here now. Patraeko." The deep, monotone voice of the aged hunter spoke out. Leaving the old, beat up truck as he did so. He was equipped with a large amount of technological weaponry, surrounding his body to the point that his dark grey clothing could only just be viewed from underneath the equipment. Following him was the particularly young hunter-in-training. The Russian cyborg known as Patraeko Payemyndii. Wearing his usual attire of a black trench coat, left unbuttoned to reveal his white shirt and black trousers underneath. Along with his sheathed silver longsword clipped to his belt. His metallic hand reflected seemed to glow as the rain bounced off the structure.

"Well, this is a... Good place. I guess. Could do with some freshening up." Patraeko replied, not really caring much as he glanced around at his fellow students. His organic red eye darted around as the double zig-zagged shaped pupil expanded and contracted, measuring the energy of all which surround him. His other eye, cybernetic, glowed blue, the single darker-blued strip of a 'pupil' moved side to side.
"It still looks the same as when I attended this place. Brings back some good memories. You better be good." The hunter continued, crossing his arms in the process as he scanned over the teachers, hoping to recognise any of them. Of course he didn't, it's been such a long time since he graduated after all. "Anyway, I better get going. I think I left the oven on. You have a nice time, be sure to contact me when you can!" The final words from Patraeko's 'guardian' was spoken before he climbed back into his truck and drove off, in a rush, of course. Same as always...

"Yeah, I might need to talk to you about demonic energy." Patraeko replied to himself, muttering under his breath as he stared towards the white haired student, his "The Will" manifestation in his eye allowing him to see the energy held within and around the character. "Let's hope it's just a power-hungry asshole."

Kayha frowned, her hand tightening on the handle of her suitcase. The young man who approached her - shorter than her - gestured towards her bag full of armaments and offered to take it. Sure, the case was heavy, but she was fully capable of carrying it by herself. Letting go momentarily, she began to sign, "No thanks, I-" Her hands twisted into the strange, unfamiliar signs of The Inquisition's sign language. Blinking, she began to repeat herself in international sign, "No thanks, I can carry it myself." The stony in-expressiveness of her face shifted ever so slightly. Brows drew together ever so slightly, her lips pressed together into a slightly thinner line. It occurred to her just then that he might not know sign-language. To make her point extra clear, she pointed to her bag, pointed at him, then shook her head in the negative.

When the teachers began to move, Kayha's eyes shifted between all of them. Though the loudness of the woman with the gun ground on her nerves - in fact, everyone was rather loud - she seemed like the best choice to follow. The sheer amount of guns made her a little uncomfortable. She owned a pistol and was proficient with, but she'd never been excellent with it after she lost her eye. Many monsters relied on their physical or magical abilities rather than the abilities of technology. Melee weapons were perfectly useful.

Forming up in front of Ms. Harbinger, Kayha offered a sharp salute.

Kain Solomon Sparrow

Huh. That was rather...interesting. Kain wasn't sure what to think about the teachers, as he still held a hand out to Kayha for a brief moment to offer his help, it was now retracted back to his shoulder, nervously. He merely waved to Kayha, deciding to open his mouth again, "Sorry, er, I should get over to my class," he continued, before backing away from her and walking over to the Maestro teacher. "Good luck!"

What a sight, Kain thought as everything the teachers had done in introduction rolled through his mind. That Soldier...was definitely different. And what was this about calling the Maestros pussies!? Kain sighed. He wanted to show off, but...that wasn't something he would have preferred to do. It was so much easier to wait in the shadows, where he could do what he had to do but never had to prove it. But that didn't matter anymore. At least his teacher was calm. He was going to a school to learn to fight better; he had to suck it up now. Things will get better. Hopefully.

Anselm studied over the teachers and then fixed his gaze on Jane Harbinger, he was cracked up by her straight forward presentation. "Shootin' shit ya say? Amen t' that!" He cackled madly at it, a combination of the painkillers and not really giving a shit. He put on his hat and got in line for her class. He soon notices the girl that was behind him earlier. He glanced her before when she arrived in the jeep, a real soldier of some type, possibly more formal training. He raises an eyebrow and gives an impressed whistle upon seeing her scars. "Army girl's got cred," he mutters.

He sees her saluting, looking somewhat perplexed at this display of formality. Can't she tell that this woman clearly couldn't care less about such things? He shrugs it off and lightly shakes his head, it was no skin off his back. As long as she's a competent soldier it will keep things interesting for him.

He turns his attention back to Ms. Harbinger and tips his hat. "Welp... look'n forward to kill'n shit wit' ya, miss." He grins wide, a wild look in his eyes, itching all over for any piece of action. Probably one of the few sensations his body can feel at the moment.

Simon was surprised by his new teacher suddenly falling on a group of fellow students. Since she was the only teacher who hadn't left already he assumed she was the Acolyte instructor. Glad to be out of the rain he followed the group of students into the large building that would be his home from now on. Closing his umbrella on his way into the school. As he walked he strode up to his new teacher and introduced himself. Offering to shake her hand he began: "Bonjour, my name is Simon Dupont, I must say I can't wait to start learning under your tutelage. Have you worked as an instructor here for long?".

Patraeko's attention was grabbed by the seemingly feisty soldier which called out to the group of students. This woman was a strange individual indeed, wearing a skull-shaped gasmask along with her profanity ridden speech as she insulted the Maestro teacher. It's strange though, he seemed to be the most normal teacher out of the group, if you ignore the guitar he seems to be carrying around, he must be the kind of guy who sleeps with that instrument anyway.

Of course, no matter what strange words the Soldier's teacher spewed out, she was still a teacher, and since he had chosen to take on the course of 'Soldier'. Well, his guardian and trainer suggested soldier was the best way to go. He had to oblige, allowing him to slowly wonder forward toward the teacher. Standing firmly as his eyes stared forward into her body, measuring the energy levels within her. It wasn't a surprise, for what experience she had obtained throughout her career, it would make sense for Patraeko to see pure blue surging through her body, with hardly any being released into the environment. She had a good control on her energy, and by the looks of it, it's pure energy, the blue gives it off really well.

Before anything else, Patraeko took another glance towards the demonic energy white haired guy. Staring at him once more, trying his best to study the student's energy.

Ragonalia snickered a little the white haired boy's remark about being a teacher's pet. She also found it ridiculous how the boys were all getting flustered because of a pair of hardly covered breasts. Ragonalia was also able to see an sense energy's due to her years of studying magic. So she could see the bright red aura which surrounded the white haired boy's body, the one who made the remark, but she paid no heed to it. She knew that energy's and auras were simply a visual of a person's power and, more specifically, their brain power, not who they were as a person. So just because the person's aura was demonic did not mean they were, or wished to be so. For example, everyone had an aura, everyone had energy. A person who was highly depressed for example would have a small, dark energy, that did not mean their existence was fruitless, nor that they wished to not exist all the time, it's just how their brain worked. So, to get to the point. She didn't pay much attention to judging people based on their auras.

Ragonalia made it to the entrance to the west wing and leaned against the wall beside the door, waiting for everyone else as he watched the group approach.

(OOC: I'm sorry, I didn't intend to upset anyone with this post and I have apologized over and over to the person upset and they're still coming after me and it's really upsetting me. I didn't mean to upset anyone, and have tried to make accommodations. I don't know what else I can do and I'm really hurt by how I'm being treated.)

As the groups were lead into the building, Patraeko's stares towards the white haired boy were broken. People simply got in the way, blocking his sight with the variety of different colours due to their ranged energy types. This is actually a great place to study more on individual energies, the only ones he could study were of the monsters he hunted with his guardian and the guardian's energy itself. Of course, out of everyone he's seen, his guardian's energy seemed to be the most powerful and controlled. With exception to the demonic energy that surrounded the white haired boy, a mixture of red and black which flowed into his body via the eyes and mouth. It seemed to be too much for a normal person to handle, even when trained to control their energy, which means it's not a natural thing...

With the colours confusing his sight, Patraeko decided to close his eye, relying on his cybernetic replacement as sight. Although he could only see in infra-red, it was still less confusing than the colours, while also giving a new insight into the nature of the other students.
After a small while of following the teacher, the group finally passed under an archway with an inscribed blunderbuss in the middle. Obviously symbolising the soldier's area of learning. Thinking of that, these kind of things made Patraeko feel a little out of place. Most students seemed to be carrying guns of some sort, with the exception of a few individuals who carried swords bigger than their body. A potential sparring partner?

With the group gathered around the single teacher, introductions made explaining the lack of any classes and the welcoming to use any equipment; Patraeko simply let his eye wonder, the dark blue vertical line which cut through the lighter blue background of the synthetic eye moved side to side, taking every detail it saw in. Using both the noises of the teacher and students and the heat radiated from the group as a vector to map the area. He was still waiting on his guardian to design a new eye which could see in the visible spectrum, infra-red was obviously showing it's flaws on the first day.

Once dismissed, Patraeko instantly moved his attention towards the quiet girl with giant swords. His eye still closed as the students leaved the area, he didn't want to confuse himself with the energy colours any further, it would be easier once there was less people in view. Standing in front of the girl, Patraeko pushed out his cybernetic arm as an invitation to a handshake. The dark blue line quickly faced the girl as it scanned the body in an attempt to determine the shape of the individual.
"Yo, I'm Patraeko Payemyndii. Since we have a free day, how about we get to know the area and perhaps begin honing our skills?" He spoke out, straight to the point with his deep voice. His Russian accent stood out very strongly as his fluent english words fell out of his mouth. He got the grammar and style right, it was just the accent which messed with the pronunciation.

If Flesh-Scribed excelled at anything other than physical aspects, it was perception. They listened intently, peered around carefully, and drank in their environment whenever possible. Of course, it had its practical reasons. A mistake in assuming safety could lead to a sudden and untimely death. The thought made her phantom eye itch uncomfortably. Following behind Harbinger in rigid step, Kayha scratched idly at the lower lid of her right eye. Prioritizing input mattered just as much. Deciding to tune out the voices of the students other than those following the path of the soldier, she kept her ears open, but focused on the architecture.

Six wings, but four paths. Curiosity gnawed at her. What lay down the other two? No time to find out just now. Her eyes briefly passed over the iconography of the other path wings. Blunderbuss, gear, half note, and flame. All things with an old essence, improved upon by time. Then again, monster hunting was equally as tied to that idea. Monster always had and always would hunt men, and men would always fight to their last breath to keep this world under their control. Blunderbuss to high-powered sniper rifle, simple gear to mighty tanks, wavering half note to sonic weaponry, crude flame to flamethrowers. Really, all quite apt.

Kayha's living eye gently passed over everyone, assigning them temporary values, her brain forcing rigid order into something as-of-yet nebulous and uncertain. Structure overlaid every part of her life up to this point, and having it all suddenly replaced with unknowns... unsettled her. She itched at the bottom of her false eye again and adjusted the way her swords lay on her back. Not having spoken to any of them herself, she tried to rate them purely on physical appearance, placing the cyborg somewhere near the top and the white-haired young man somewhere near the bottom. Her eyebrows twitched together ever so slightly. These first days... would be full of strange conflicts and showmanship.

The small caravan train of students and teacher came to an abrupt stop. The Flesh-Scribed came to almost as sudden a stop, crisply straightening up. Listening intently to Harbinger's words, she nodded internally. Of course, an orientation day. Smart. It gave time for preliminary hierarchies to form. Keeping beasts captive - most likely monsters - she didn't agree with. Not because Kayha felt bad for enslaved creatures, but simply because they belonged in the ground rather than on it.

A voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Both eyes turned to lock on the speaker before she turned. The cyborg. Blinking slowly, she willed her gem eye into activating. The strangeness of having binocular vision threw her off for a few seconds, and Kayha lifted her arms out ever so slightly to keep her balance under the assault. The pale blue of her aquamarine iris glowed with a soft inner light. Perhaps here, away from all the many, many mages of The Inquisition, its sensitivity to magical energy wouldn't bother her.

Reaching out, she took the cyborg's hand in one of her gloved ones and gave a single, incredibly firm shake. The leather of her glove squeaked a little as she did so. Patraeko's name bounced around in her head, refusing to sit well in her English-primary mind. For one of the first times, she was glad she didn't actually have to say it out loud. Her hands began in the familiar sign of her home, but she caught herself this time and re-started in the common sign. "I am Kayha Bladeguard. That's a good idea. Training facilities and sleeping quarters are probably most important to find first."

Anticipating possible difficulty, the warrior paused for a moment. Reaching into one of the pockets on her waist-length, dark jacket, she fumbled around for something she'd made just for this occasion. Grappling it while wearing gloves was harder than she expected, but after a moment she fished out a small white card. Printed in plain black text on the small piece of cardstock were the words, "I am Kayha Bladeguard. I am mute." She handed it over to Patraeko and awaited his response.

Anselm followed thinking about the weird guy with the colorful hair. No way was that guy human, it had to be crappiest act he's ever seen. "Nobody is that stupid... right?" He thinks to himself. in and looked around at his surroundings, first looking to the firing range. He took off his hat and put it to his chest looking astounded for a moment, to him it beat the hell out of some straw dummies and a dusty old shed. This was above satisfactory. His dumbfounded look turns to a grin when he hears Ms. Harbinger speak of live targets. There's something he's lacked back home, aside from that vampire freak of a mayor he didn't have much else to hunt.

"Now... that is tempt'n, Ms. Harbinger, now, wouldn' imagine that there would be... mmm... how shud I say? Live hunts wit' stakes involved would there, now?" He says enthusiastically, raising a brow curiously. He wasn't trying to impress anyone, he could care less what the others think, he desired a live hunt, a thrill.

He looks back to the cyborg and woman with giant swords, seeing her making hand signs and the cyborg being completely oblivious to what she was trying to say, robot-man repeating his question to her. He sighs and scratches the back of his neck. "Ey, Mr. Roboto, think she'd like t' check f'th' trainin' and sleepin' places." He mutters, scoffing and looking off rapping his fingers against the top of his hat. "Didn' they teach ya this shit..?" Muttering further, this time under his breath. He went to a normal school prior to his accident, he was actually surprised somebody so high-tech looking as this guy lacked something that seemed like basic knowledge.