A seemingly young looking male whose presence seems to project beyond his already impressive nearly six feet of height. Silkly smooth red hair is often tied back, but may become more wild as needed. His outfits generally consist of a white pressed suit with a gray undershirt, but he may wear a black trenchcoat like piece over top black slacks and a purple shirt. His reddish eyes almost seem to reflect the onlooker, and he almost has an imposing aura. And yet, one can't help but feel an urge to trust at his smiling visage.

His true form, that of an immense, silver dragon, who brings to mind standard western dragons, towers above the contenders, at nearly a story from the shoulder. With at least thirty foot wing span, and well over fifty feet or more in length, he's a massive feller. But it makes him a pretty big target. And it makes take off hard.
(Stardust Dragon for appearance)

Kind, considerate, thoughtful, ingenious, intelligent, resourceful. Slow to anger(usually), jovial, cheerful, if not humorous.

A mysterious archeologist with an even more mysterious past. Described as the perfect definition of a wanderer, he doesn't stay long wherever he ends up, unless he has no choice, or finds he likes it enough. In time though, when he deems it right, he will move on, returning at a later date, if ever. A wraith upon history.

At least, that's the urban legend, of the Professor. A story that has become legendary over the decades and centuries of his life. The reality is as follows. A mythic type of being, who was born an untold amount of time prior, whether to a Dragon who was king, or to an actual dragon deity, matters not. For whatever reason, his nation was lost, and this dragon stepped into legend as a wanderer. Some versions of the story around him vary, saying he lost part of his memories, and fell through time(and space, given he actually hails from the other side of the galaxy), others say he repressed his memories and prevented gaining new ones for a time, until enough time had passed to distant himself. What is clear is that over centuries, sightings of him have cropped up across the globe, often in the form of him appearing at ruins or ancient sites, seeking something. Some claim its treasure, others claim he does it solely for adventure. Often when he appears, he offers his aid to those who need it, before then moving on. The truth is that he seeks knowledge, and information on where his people went, a young boy when his nation fell, an orphan of a dragon some of that society revered as a goddess.

His reasons for being a Nomad are a mystery, he may enter a tournament and beat all who stand in his way, only to stop at the final match and let himself lose. Or he may simply interview locals. If pressed, the one said to be the Wanderer of Time will simply state he's doing research for a book, or seeking a rare item. To him, knowledge is more precious than any gold, more valuable than money, more important than even food. And the memories he associates with such are important. From lost tribes of the jungles, to the urban sprawl, he's trotted the globe, preferring to keep a low profile unless the world needs him. Some even dare say he's stood against corrupt regimes, to protect innocents. At the end of the day, he's a mystery, a vagabond with no home, but to whom the world is home. Such is the one they call the Professor, though no one seems to know what he's a Professor of, if anything.

Note: His reasons for fighting are simply for the gathering of knowledge. But I made it mysterious for those in rp who want to draw wild conclusions.

With reservation, he fights, committing only as much energy to the battle as he feels is key. Even so, he moves with speed and grace, displaying skill far beyond even what seems applicable for a skilled human artist. He seems to have no proper style, instead fighting in a manner that almost makes one think he's dancing. His moves, while rarely flashy, are straight and to the point. That isn t'to say he won't perform for the crowds, but when no one is around but him and his opponent? No reason to show off. As a dragon, he possesses innate mystical power, namely in the form of being able to use wind and lightning as his allies, imbuing some of his attacks with said elements. He may use a sword if fighting a Ki user who uses swords, or a deck of cards against a gambler. Really, he just seems to go for whatever suits him best in the moment. As an effective space dragon wizard, he can do a lot of cool stuff. Including make his own dragons, but he's yet to figure that out. Go figure.

Despite being a dragon, due to being within human force, the Professor cannot access much of his power, without risk of causing internal damage to his body. This forces him to play carefully, partly why he relies on long range. This can cause someone to overcome when he isn't going all out. His lack of an actual fighting style means he has to rely on dodging, as his long range play style can be countered by one who gets in close. His tendency to just throw a fight if he loses interest or finds a new source of knowledge to gather can, be used against him, as his guard may lower. Additionally, his desire for knowledge is seemingly unquenchable, making it possible to at least have a chance of luring him into a trap. He also seems to have to eat regularly, and if deprived of rest, can cause him to lose focus. Nor is he really good with...relationships, not romantic, just in general. One can only imagine why. His desire to aid may overcome his own common sense, so yeah. Also if he turns into a dragon, he's kind of easy to take down if the need arises.

Unlike most dragons, his people could easily take on human form, and did so to conserve power, and to better understand their mortal subjects. His ability to control lightning is derived from how such is considered in many circles to be a sub-power of wind. He also has a better regenerative factor than most humans, but this requires rest. He may manifest parts of his dragonic nature on occasion.

The longest time he's been "recorded" to stay in an area, was a university town about a century prior, for a period of time that while ultimately unknown, was long enough for him to acquire the title of Professor. It is implied he may be a Professor of Archeology, or History. Either way, his immense amount of knowledge makes him a living history book. And a witty one at that. He's immensely lonely, due to how he's basically at this point immortal, short of someone actually managing to kill him, but due to this, he can't stand to form bonds, due to how short life is for most. He's been quoted to say that "is this why we took human form? To understand their pain, their joy? The meaning of their lives...its a beautiful tapestry." Its also theorized he may have a lair somewhere in a remote location, that stores all of his collections. Or he may just live in a city under an assumed name. Who knows, eh?

A golden haired beauty, with a seemingly cybernetic right arm, who often wears light brown/tan traveling clothes, and has purple eyes. Never seen without her sunglasses. Kinda hard to figure out what else to say.

Aggressive, resilient, determined, cunning, manipulative, explosive.

In the world that Nomads walk, you have your gods, your humans, your variety of races. A prime breeding ground for the strongest of fighters. So to a race that values a good fight above all else as their offering to their goddess, food is present. So enters the one the world calls the "Predator". A nameless blonde haired woman who seeks to battle the world's strongest, for reasons known only to herself.

A member of an alien race, the Nameless has been sent to the world as a trial, to prove herself worthy to walk amid the ranks of her fellow androids, to stand proud. To receive a name. She isn't the only member sent to this world, but she's the most flashy. To be expected of a Rough Rider, the faction that doesn't seek to conquer, but usually ends up making it easier for other factions to conquer, or offer aid before then colonizing. The Rough Riders of the Rockroids are vagabonds, who call whatever dirtball they like most a place to stay. The bikers of the stars, they raid systems seeking the strongest, much like the "Predators" they are so named for. It is their belief that the Goddess loved a good fight, to test opponents, and gather their data, and so the Rough Riders travel the stars, seeking a good time. And this world...is ripe for fighting. Every few decades, they send down infant droids, to battle the locals, and to gain adulthood, and be granted a name.

Dropped off near a city, she was left with nothing but the clothes on her back, and the internal mechanisms needed to repurpose enemy bio-data for her own usage. With her year of fame, she's already begun to claim viable bio-data...but she has yet to find a foe worthy enough to grant her a name of her own. So far...all her wins have been child's play. Will this be the adventure that makes her an adult, or will she die a warrior's death, and be induced into the Hall of Heroes, to feast at the Goddess's table? Only time will tell...

In your face. That's one way to describe her, as she's the brawler type of fighter, being a Brawler Trooper to be precise. Focusing attacks on vital parts of the anatomy, using the environment around her to inflict maximum damage. She fights dirty, using any trick in the book if it means she'll win. Its all about the good time. She'll even drop a car on someone if needed.

[She grabs the foe, and spins them around by whatever body part she has, before sending them flying like a hammer toss.]

[Used generally after stunning the foes. Grabs the foe, lifts them above her head, and proceeds to fling them against the nearest surface. Bonus points if they bounce.]

[Damage taken makes her more excited, which in turn raises her power level]

[She literally just grabs a person, and punches them in the kidneys repeated]

[Using her "robotic" limbs, she charges up energy, then slams her fist into the foe, producing a small explosion]

[Unleashes a flurry of punches, giving up power for speed]

[A defensive move where she crosses her arm, creating a barrier that protects her omnidirectionally from attacks. Doesn't prevent forward momentum, or any form of momentum.]

[Defeating a foe allows her to acquire one of their signature moves, if she so desires. Otherwise may just take an item from them.]

[Allows her to adapt and improve the more she fights, or does anything really]

[Charges an incredible amount of power into her fist, before then unleashing it. Has enough power to level a building easily, and could in theory, be improved further.]

[Flashly throws the foe at the ground with enough force to stun them, then grabs them, and flings them with enough force to send them a fair distance away, and through at least one building. The opponent can escape the grab if fast enough.]

She has a lair somewhere in the world, where she keeps her prizes. Owns a motorcycle she may have stolen from somewhere, or she actually purchased with winnings.

Voyt is slim but decently toned with dirty blonde hair that reaches his neck. The most striking thing about Voyt is his cowboy like get up consisting of a dark brown stetson hat, dusty orange poncho that hangs off his back akin to a cape, brown mask covering the bottom of his face and brown boots with spurs attached to the back along with two holsters at his sides for his revolvers. He dresses plainly otherwise with black pants and a protective vest which absorbs blows easier without restricting movement. Voyt wears an ammo belt around his waist and around his hat as well as having dark shadows painted around his eyes to reduce glare.

-Cold
-Stoic
-Sarcastic
-Standoffish
-Confidence bordering on arrogance
-Professional
-Privately, regretful

Subject 11-B was, for all intents and purposes, a complete success. Several biologic scientists and DNA experts exiled from governments and black projects alike had pooled their knowledge together in an effort to create life, namely the perfect soldier. With intents to sell this specimen to the highest bidder or form their own PMC group by cloning the subject, the scientists had collected the DNA (through questionable means and contacts) of numerous decorated soldiers. One had the idea to also imbue the subject with the DNA of various legends of the Old West, primarily because these were records and small samples that their contacts could supply at a much easier rate than members of the military. After years of delicate trials and ten failures. They succeeded.

Nicknamed Voyt (The initials of the four head scientists' second names) they set to work in shaping their creation to be well versed in all forms of firearm based combat, which he naturally excelled in, though due to DNA and implanted memories during creation, their subject showed a particular fascination & fondness for revolvers, lever action rifles and shotguns. After having decided he learned all he needed to about the outside world from his creators, Voyt killed them all, one well placed shot to the temple for each member involved. As it turned out, placing your trust in a being comprised of several different outlaws and instilling the mindset of being bred to kill wasn't the terribly brightest idea. Voyt kept the name though, primarily because with all his creators names as simple letters together, it had no meaning. That was fine by him.

No one is quite sure when the Gunslinger Hitman began operating but when he started, there were few better. Demonstrating a cold efficiency above even other assassins, Voyt's gun-slinging wizardry was in high demand. Whilst always being extremely proficient with his weaponry Voyt soon discovered what he found out to be ki, during a contract he had somehow imbued his inner ki into one of his guns, able to fire it limitlessly. From that point on Voyt learned all he could about his new skill, apparently it flowed through all living things and having the DNA of some of the most prolific killers gave Voyt a very good grasp of it. At present Voyt has enough of a handle on ki to which he can stand against other martial artists, monsters, supernatural beings and all manner of things alien to regular people, which he does with alarming efficiency. Voyt very quickly raised his prices.

For several years Voyt lent himself as a gun for hire with very little qualms about who (or what) he was contracted to kill, seemingly the only line Voyt was unwilling to cross was children, everything else was fair game. Since someone would always want someone else dead and ki users/magical beings are much harder to put down, Voyt’s skills in being able to stand against these beings made him in high demand. Yet despite the influx of contracts and money something was beginning to change inside Voyt, he had kept any “killer with a conscience” ideals at bay by convincing himself he was a living weapon created solely for that purpose, nothing more nothing less. Yet time did not dissipate these feelings like he’d hoped, instead they have worsened. Voyt has killed people both good and evil solely for profit but now seeds of doubt begin to grow in the gunslinger’s mind, ones festering about becoming more than what he was created and trained to be.

For the time being there has been no “Grand revelation” which would cause Voyt to roll his eyes at the mere thought, but time between jobs becomes longer and Voyt’s once reliable physical and mental state seem to be beginning to fail him...

Voyt has heightened durability from his ki but where it really shines is his speed and aim, the majority of Voyt's moveset consists of creating the distance between him and his foes and then punishing them with his revolvers from afar. Voyt imbued his blackpowder Colt Single Action Army revolvers with ki also, making the regular six shots of both become endless sources of lead - combined with physical modifications to the revolvers themselves makes Voyt extremely lethal at long range. Though less used Voyt will also occasionally utilise a sawed-off shotgun tucked underneath his poncho when the situation arises. Thanks to Voyt's superhuman levels of precision he is able to turn most mundane objects into very dangerous weapons when thrown if in such a scenario or without his guns. When up close Voyt uses his revolvers and legs to strike and is more adept at stringing in shots to combos for explosive finishes. Voyt as a hitman is also skilled at analysing his opponents throughout the battle and seeing potential weaknesses he can exploit the longer it goes on. Simply put Voyt uses his agility and kit to keep everyone at long range to punish them with his rapid speed, trickshot offence and deadly aim, what he lacks in martial knowledge and taking of punishment he makes up for in quick thinking, quick feet and the quickest draw

Voyt can swap bullet types to deal with bigger or even ethereal targets if the need arises.

- Voyt dropkicks an opponent to the floor and launches himself in the air, raining down several shots from his guns as he descends.

- Voyt charges up his shotgun with his ki, firing a fast moving and much more damaging blast of red energy. Takes a few extra seconds to charge as opposed to firing it regularly.

- While twirling his revolvers, Voyt quickly fires several times while extending out his arms, creating a line of bullet fire. Can be jumped over by an agile enough opponent.

- Voyt charges up one or both of his revolvers and fires, sending out bursts of pure red energy instead of regular ki bullets. Able to ricochet off multiple opponents as opposed to just surfaces. Voyt must take a few seconds to properly charge his guns before firing however.

- If grabbed by an opponent Voyt takes use of unscrupulous fighting style to try and break the hold, typically an eye gouge, low blow, throwing sand in the face etc. Which is followed up by a swift pistol whip to the throat if the hold is released to stun an opponent. (For obvious reasons this does not work on synthetic enemies)

- To create distance Voyt uses his sharp speed and agility to throw himself in any direction, time seemingly slowing to a crawl as he let's loose some gunfire at his would be attacker. Taxing to maintain the level of precision for the slowing of time so can realistically only be used once or twice before becoming a regular dive.

- Voyt throws a grenade under his opponent and fires at it with his gun, exploding the grande from under the opponent and sending them upwards for a juggle, easier shot etc.

- Voyt fires both revolvers continuously from a static position, allowing for maximum speed of shoots while also being able to switch the gun's directions individually to deal with multiple targets.

- Voyt tosses a coin up into the air and fires at it, causing the bullet to somehow ricochet off the coin and into the opponent

- Voyt somersaults backwards to either create distance or quickly get to higher ground, leaving an unpinned grenade for an unsuspecting opponent. Can potentially be utilised by a quick or aware opponent however.

- Voyt holsters his guns and beckons his opponent to face him, parrying their attack by unholstering his guns with lightning fast speed and firing a volley of gunfire at them for knockback.

- A tumbleweed rolls by as Voyt's eyes flash with a red hue, he pulls out one of his revolvers and in unprecedented speed fans the hammer blindingly fast, creating an effect not dissimilar to a Gatling gun as glowing red bullets fly into an opponent, filling them full of holes if they don't dodge Voyt's fire or cut him off before he begins

- Apparently Voyt also has the DNA of Clint Eastwood despite him not being dead. This wasn't for any combat related purpose, the scientists were just huge geeks.

Fafnir is a surviving mythological being. In his original form, the dragon stood (on four legs) at a monstrous size, the like of which dwarfed only by the eldest of his kin. Though due to the nature of his seal his form had regressed significantly in size and power. The beast has two bull like horns and a third blade-like horn on the snout, as well as sharp spines that run down his back and below his jaw. Black plated scales armor his body along with the somewhat softer crimson scales of his underbelly. His eyes are crocodilian in nature, and are a piercing yellow. Black jagged teeth run the maw of the saurian-shaped head, with a forked tongue slithering within his mouth. A sail-like frill runs along his back between the sharp spines and can extend or recede in a display, tallest near the top of long snake-like neck. Long bat-like wings act as a third pair of limbs, all 3 pairs bear sharp 3-fingered claws.

In his usual, sealed form however, he is a massive 7'5" beige-skinned human with typical Aryan facial features and a muscular build. However he still retains some leaks of his inhuman nature in the form of his reptilian, glowing snake-like eyes(Like his dragon form, his eyes are yellow but glow a crimson firey light), a pair of leathery wings and a large, lumbering tail of black and red keeled scales and a barbed tip.

His armor is fully plated iron, from head to foot, that fully conceals him. The only parts of him not concealed is his tail. His wings are covered with a bird-like/angelic design in this armor, with some kind of flexible but plated material. The armor has various runes carved into it to attune with his Ki, as well as his large 6'0 lance he wields as a weapon, and a massive plated shield.

Wise
Observant
Prideful
Honorable
Silent thinker
Loner
Vengeful
Not-very-Tech-Savy(As well as just being not too familiar with most products of modern culture in general.)
Stuck in the past, old way mentality.
Long fuse( but should that fuse be lit it can provoke him into a much more animalistic or feral nature.)

Fafnir was once a great dragon of malice, fueled by a thirst for utter destruction and power. As if by instinct his feral nature laid ruin to villages and kingdoms of old. The first spawn of Bahagarra he was unrivaled by his generation and those that came after, and was one of the most active scourges to humanity. Yet one brave and mighty knight of one, now lost, kingdom had finally defeated him and ended his centuries of terror. The knight's birth name was Gabriel Sigurd, though dubbed as Arch-angel Gabriel by his kingdom; owed to his unnatural and incredible power and skill, as if he were some divine instrument, and the angelic wings adorned from his armor, which granted him flight. He had not only humbled the monster in his defeat, but his code of honor and mercy towards the beast, an unusual gesture of kindness towards a monster that had previously bore no sympathy, inspired Fafnir hence fourth. The beast followed the knight's example, served the same kingdom with up most loyalty, and began to become intrigued and respectful of the martial prowess of the mortals once trained to slay him. Eventually, he abandoned his form through arcane rites, and convinced a then retired Sir Sigurd to teach him his martial power. When Sigurd inevitable fell to the mortal fate of all humans, the immortal dragon carried on his mentor's legacy. Taking his enchanted armaments, lance, armor, and shield, and even his surname, he continued to serve the kingdom and passed down his ways to the knights and soldiers of that realm, and the wandering warriors that sought his teachings. However his most proud hobby was seeking worthy opponents for the sport of combat. Whether it be a monster, a warrior, or something otherwordly; ever since his battle with Gabriel, Fafnir has acquired the taste of honorable combat. Always seeking the next opponent that could replicate the same feelings he felt in that original battle, never truly satisfied, but eager to continue. The teachings of Sigurd never left him, both in skill and in morality. As an eternal respect for his long deceased master, the knight retains the ideologies of the honorable and chivalrous knight his mentor once was. He defended the kingdom from others of his kin, until the dragons stopped spawning with Bahagarra's defeat.

But all things must come to an end. The kingdom he once served inevitably became lost to time, the ruins of its once proud structures sunken beneath water and dirt. With little purpose left, the ancient being sunk into a depression, and slumbered for the centuries to come. Finding solice in the tomb of his progenitors, and for that time, guarding it so that no one would reawaken the disasters that may plague the world again. One day, amidst his ancient slumber, he had a dream. A dream of his master, a dream of promise. Dreams that filled the forgotten soldier with hope. He longed for that thrill of battle that was lost to him. Such motivation stirred him from his slumber, and the primordial knight rose from the dirt and sea to witness the new world. So much had changed, there was so much to learn. But more importantly, there were fighters to find, warriors to challenge. Though he may had lost his master and his kingdom, he still had one purpose left in life, and that was the thrill of battle.

With the exception of being somewhat more nimble Fafnir is not as strong, nor as in tune with his ki in this false image, however he makes up for that weakness with the vast amount of generations he spent honing a finesse with weaponry. His primary tactics use a mixture of Ki power and his trusty lance, one that served him throughout generations.
In unarmed combat he lacks the finesse he wields with his lance, and thus his kicks and punches, though powerful, are slow and crude. Such attacks lack the proper speed or efficiency those more experienced with hand-to-hand combat possess. His 'style' in which case usually involves excessive use of using his weight and size to body slam, elbow, or grapple enemies with his crushing strength and weight. He also utilizes his tail to whip or even stab at his foes as a spear if he feels such strategies are warranted. Though capable of flight in his sealed form, he's a slow glider and can only effectively 'dash' with leaping or landing. Thus doesn't have any real aerial combat technique.

He is no stranger to pain and is more then willing to take injuries so long as it means he can strike back. While winning is fine, he is more focused on the thrill of the battle itself and chooses to prolong the fight if possible. While mercy isn't strictly enforced in his honor code, he has no qualms offering that same kindness he was dealt when defeated by Joseph.

Fafnir in his humanoid form takes the time to stay mostly defensive and study his opponents carefully, using what energy is necessary to protect himself and keeping the flow of battle steady so that he can conserve the rest for when he feels the opportune moment to unleash it. He often plays to what his opponent offers, even if his foe is weaker then Fafnir, Fafnir rarely goes anything beyond his foe's own level in that case, in the start of that fight. This is for both to take pleasure in the battle itself, but to once again, take time to study his opponent.

If he ever sheds his mortal form however, Fafnir's fighting style is a u-turn from his original style. Without any finesse or weaponry, He relies solely on ki-power and physical capabilities his form offers. Just as the Dragon-Form will often go all out at the very start of his transformation, his instincts become much more of primal fury, at some points even lacking self-control with how carried away his predatory nature takes a hold of him. For this reason he only uses his true-form as a last resort tactic, or if someone really infuriates him. In most scenarios he'd much rather lose in his mortal form then to win in his true form, unless if that fight mattered more beyond his entertainment and honor.

Worst of worlds: In most situations, Fafnir starts out slow in his sealed form, often trying to fight at an 'equal' footing at his opponents. Weaker opponents as a result have a better chance of beating him, as does stronger opponents that he can't adapt to in time. In the rare occasion where Fafnir has no honor or respect for an opponent, he will go all out and transform, instead becoming reckless and easy to tire out. Either way, it isn't too difficult to strategies against.

Glutton for punishment: His bloodlust for battle and refusal to dishonor his opponents often lead him to purposely taking hits. Usually he takes advantages of these blows to counter attack, however the sport he finds in testing the strength or force of his opponent's attacks can often give him situations with damage that he could have prevented.

Prideful Vengeance: Despite his worked up tolerance, those that damage his pride can potentially tear through his wisdom and better judgement if they know what buttons to push. Insulting his honor is one sure way to enrage him. Though he is often humble, he still carries with him a sense of pride of his own power partially fueled by the innate, natural arrogance of a dragon.

Imperfect Armor: In his dragon form, the underbelly is soft and vulnerable to attack.

Cold-blooded: Fafnir does best in hot environments. Exposed to cold conditions or cryogenic based attacks can weaken his endurance and overall performance.

The reporter walked into the mansion, taking nervous steps on the clean tiled floor. The cameraman behind her was just as cautious. As they walked, they couldn't help but notice the servants around them. Maids and butlers, all with a lifeless expression; dead eyes watching them as they moved further. The room was cold, and the motionless servants didn't help to lift the atmosphere.

"Are you sure this isn't a prank?" Said the cameraman, having attempted to turn his fear into frustration.

"He gave us an invitation in person, remember? It's un-" She snapped back, but was cut off as a sudden motion caught both of their attention. Before them, between the double staircase of the foyer, rose a swirling mass that had seemed to swoop down on the floor from the shadows. Taking shape from the swirl of motion, later revealed to be his cape, was the man of the hour himself.

"Greetings, welcome to my humble abode." Vlad bowed politely before his guests, dressed in his typical evening suit. "I hope my loyal subjects haven't bothered you." He said, his voice was almost enchanting, yet there in lied waited something sinister in his tone; like a serpent.

He snapped his fingers, and the handful of maids and butlers suddenly came to life. They seemed to carry on with their duties; moving furniture and decor, preparing drinks, and the like. Set up by several servants were a pair of expensive, decorative chairs with fine silk cushions, and a likewise rich couch of a black dyed fabric. Vlad had taken a seat on the sofa. Just as the reporter took a seat on one of the chairs, a maid approach to set up a tray with what appeared to be freshly served snacks; A glass of wine and miniature sandwiches.

The cameraman turned on his camera to film the two.

"So, what brings you to my estate, you'll have to forgive my poor memory."

"We um." She turned to the tray briefly to decide on whether taking a bite or not, before refusing. "Well you said you would tell the world where you came from, why you're here. Fans are dying to know after all, what's your story?"

He chuckled. "Fans? Story?" He waved his hand way in a dismissal motion.

"Oh you mortals and your, strange fascination with romanticizing monsters nowadays. 300 years ago you wouldn't see that kind of opinion out there." He sighed. "Ah but those days are over I'm afraid, very well, I shall tell you what I can remember.." He waved his hand in a dramatic motion as he began;

"You see, I was born into a royal family of, well, a kingdom of sorts. The name? I couldn't recall." He laughed, amusing himself. "Those kinds of details don't matter anymore anyway, I know it doesn't exist anymore. Anyway; so, of course, this small little civilization there, I think it was somewhere in east Europe; we were...let's say not the most liked kind of rulers out there. Sure, we didn't needlessly kill anyone. But there were complaints from the commoners about corruption, wickedness, greed, what have you. And sure, I suppose those complaints were...not far from the truth. I can't remember my father, I knew he was there, I knew what he did, but well; I suppose I just didn't care enough for him to remember. My mother, well, she was the one who spoiled me when I was a young one, I remember that face well enough. My sister, well...I suppose I have her to thank to be where I am today.

You see, I suppose it all started when famine struck our lands. Rain hadn't fall, the soil had become ill, and well; life was miserable. For them, not us, of course. While they starved outside, poor and with little food, we hoarded the land's boon. Fresh pig, mutton, mm...I almost missed that taste." He trailed off for a moment.

"Mr. Dalv?"

"Oh, pardon me."

"Is that your real name?"

"What is?"

"Dalv."

"Oh, no." He chuckled, waving away her thought. "No, my real name was far less suitable I suppose. I abandoned it sometime ago."

"Oh, well..."

Vlad took the advantage of her silence to continue. "Where was I? Oh yes, you see; They didn't like that fact too much, the commoners. They decided to have a riot of sorts. Pitchforks and torches, all that nonsense. Of course the guards initially had their uses, but I guess many of them joined the crowd since I, well, I suppose my father forgot to treat them well." He snickered. At the time I was about as old as, well, how you see me now. But still, I wasn't in charge. No I'd be on merry strolls enjoying my privileges and flirting with the local beauties. My carefree life was taken away by my reckless family."

"So you resent them?" She asked.

"Heavens no." He once again made a dismissal hand gesture, scoffing at the idea. "If it wasn't for them I wouldn't be here now. You see, because of this predicament, we were..desperate. My sister, now, I didn't know what she was up to. But it was revealed on that day that she was well versed in the occult. Now, I don't know if she was a witch, but I'm sure on any other day she could have been burned for that fact. Anyway, with her connections and my...father's..." He seemed to hesitate for a moment, a flash of anger briefly in his expression, as if a sudden memory popped into view. He played it off with a brief snicker. "My father had no idea what he was doing when he thrashed his daughter about saving them. The price she insisted was too high. Well, she couldn't do anything against an angry and desperate man losing power; so she had summoned a vampire."

A smile curled on his lips, revealing his fangs. "Shocker, I know."

"But it gets better. You see, the vampire in question was happy to deal with our little problem; But my father gave him a..well a bit too stern of an attitude. He didn't know his place. So our little blood-sucking friend wasn't in the best of mood to help us. More importantly, it was a bloody vampire; I mean who the hell.." He sighed. "I'm getting off topic. Anyway, our blood-sucking hero explains to us that he will grant our wish if we are willing to sacrifice one of our own. Sure enough, immediately without consent, my father picks out my sister. Now, as the vampire explained that he must literally stand his own damned child in the back; I was well...I didn't like that much really. Mother well, I'm sure she didn't want that, but she didn't interfere. So, I picked up a decorative sword from the wall, and used it to strike my father's back while he was busy on my sibling. Of course he was shocked, as was I, that was my first....kill. So to speak. While all this was happening, mind you, the revolt was reaching our doors. The vampire, having accepted the father as the sacrifice, took to dealing with the first wave of an angry mob. I don't remember the details, I recall my mother screaming; going into a corner. I remember my father trying to mouth something, struggling through rage and shock. 'Course I don't remember what he said. What I do remember, was my sister. Upon seeing the massacre she tried to stop what she had summoned. She drew a knife and stabbed the vampire's chest. I think she was going for the heart, but apparently she missed. The dagger didn't seem to go through his flesh that much either...Anyway, the angry fiend turned around and gutted her like a pig.

Now you can, imagine the shock of those events. The trauma, and all. I completely forgot who that monster was with how...well I'm not sure how to describe how I felt. It's been so long since I felt such emotion, and it was too complicated to wave it away as angry. No it was mixed with all..sorts..of delicious emotions. Rage, Fear, Shock, terror, panic....Ah, yes a lot of terrible things going on off at once. It made me dumb enough to attack the thing, and obviously my efforts were in vain. At this point most of the riot had realized what was happening after their first wave had been massacred, and began to scream in terror back to the village. The chaos had set the castle ablaze, I remember that, because I distinctly recall the fire twisting light and shadows around this...monstrous figure. It towered over me, scoffed, and I believe it bit my neck. It had to have had, because if he didn't, I wouldn't be here. Regardless, There was no period I remember in between; like sleeping and waking. I awoke, to find myself surrounded in a closed space of wood. It didn't take long to realize I had been buried alive. Except, I wasn't really alive, now was I?" He grinned again at the woman, giving her a wink with his crimson eyes.

The gesture sent a shiver down her spine, but she continued. "That..that must been when you turned then."

"Correct." He responded. "My skin was pale, I had no pulse; I was cold, but not..really. Numb perhaps. Anyway, I freaked out and struggled for a bit. Eventually I discovered the unnatural strength I had which allowed me to claw my way out of the coffin and the earth. I awoke in the graveyard, and returned to my castle. It had been well, 3 days since I died. According to what I learned. My subjects were shocked to see me. I was more shocked, to see my mother's, the queen's, battered corpse hanging from the front of the castle gate; sweet dry blood staining the stone bricks. Well they called us a monster in life, so I decided to give them what they said I was."

His grin faded back into a smile, though it still felt sinister to the woman, who now nervously took a sip of the wine. "Well, the few that I liked I turned into the loyal subjects you see around this manner. Eternal like me, but not quite vampires. Pity they don't have any free will to entertain me with."

"Wow that is um...fascinating, Mr. Dalv. But why are you here now, so far away from home?"

"Money, fame, social status. Trivial things mind you, and of course, living in a damp old castle isn't really a lifestyle fit for a prince, is it?" He said as he slowly moved off from the couch.

The woman was speechless as she was staring into Vlad's eyes. Like it was some kind of trance. The cameraman noticed this, and turned his camera off. He tried to snap her awake, shouting "hey!" But our dashing young vampire had closed the distance between them in unnatural speed. His cold white fingers gripped the man's throat, cutting his voice off from any further sound. "Shhh.." He whispered as his nails elongated into claws, drawing blood from small cuts that were made on his neck from the transformation of the fingers. Drawing his fangs, he bit into the cameraman's neck, who dropped his camera from the attack. He was sucked dry, while the woman remained in a trance. "Hmm.." He said as he dropped the corpse. "Well, I think this will make a fine addition to the auditorium. What do you think...what was your name again Darling?"

"Mary." She said in a tranced voice, as if she was talking in her sleep.

"Ah, a pleasure to make your acquaintance my dear." He spoke, before taking a bite out of her neck as well.

[Vlad turns into an immobile body of mist; becoming temporarily intangible and immune to attacks, but cannot move during this state.]

[Vlad can turn into a small, fast vampire bat. While still having blood sucking fangs he is mostly defenseless in this form. But his small size and swift speed makes him a difficult target in this form. Best used for transportation or evading attacks.]

[Vlad can cause blood to boil into a burning liquid, or even explode rapidly into a powerful burst.]

[With blood staining his rapier, Vlad can extend and freeze the blood into a longer ranged blade. The exact shape of this blood sword/weapon can be determined by him.]

[Vlad can project a bolt composed of semi frozen blood either from a portion of crimson blade, a nearby blood puddle, or from his own body. The resulting projectile is both sharp and fast, like a crossbow bolt.]

[Vlad allow's himself reveal or suppress his own fiendish presence at will. When revealed, his presence makes the surrounding area drop in temperature, often accompanied by shadows twists around him or letting the wind howl. Animals will often either go quiet at his presence, or freak out by barking/growling. Small open flames can be put out as well by this ability.]

[An incorporeal hand can be summoned at will by Vlad. This hand acts as an independant, floating hand. Able to lift, carry, pull, and push objects. It can't attack by itself, but can throw objects or wield weapons. The hand's range is limited by 30 meters around Vlad]

[A tendril or multiple tendrils form from either Vlad's own blood, a blood puddle, or from his crimson blade. The tendril aims to wrap around a subject to trap them in place, and is free to pull or move trapped victims if successful. The tendrils may also throw these victims, or instead act to slam into said victim instead of trying to grab them.]

[Vlad expends more of his vampiric ki to apply his undead speed. Turning himself into almost a blur of speed, Vlad will attempt to disorient his opponent by taking three stride-like side steps, which cover a large distance with only a motion trail. In between each step is a rhytmic pause. Then he performs a fourth motion; either perform a counter attack with his rapier, or retreat into a nearby hiding place.]

[From his own blood/body, a nearby puddle, or through crimson blade, Vlad can generate a crescent shaped wave of blood, which is sharp enough to act as a bladed projectile.

[A rapid thrust attack with his rapier, aiming to both disorient his opponent with a flurry of attacks with the hopes of at least landing one hit to draw blood.]

By staring deeply into his eyes, and requiring activation, Vlad can put people under hypnosis, and manipulate them under his will temporarily. This requires sustained eye contact, and most commands can only be sustained and obeyed by remaining in that trance. Subconscious orders can also be implanted to perform later, but this is harder to pull off if they have a strong will. Hypnosis doesn't work with people that can use their ki, or if they have a strong enough will power. Breaking eye contact for more then 5 seconds ends the trance. A sustained trance of 2 minutes is required to implant a subconscious command.]

What else?

Yoko is a pureblooded Japanese woman. She has the facial features and accent of a young woman who grew up in the Okayama Prefecture. Being a native of that city. Even though she originated in a nation that values politeness, she is very crass, and at times rude. Her facial features are fair, and rounded, but she has the look of an adventurer in her eyes. She has a large presence... with a small height (she's four-eleven, guys). Her black hair is kept in a bun, with a red clip in it... with a cowlick extending forward. She is definitely a Nomad... in case her outfit didn't give that away. Yoko wears the traditional garb of the Hatanaka family to battle. Which is a black leotard made out of a flexible material, with a white belt to hold it on, and a yellow jacket over her arms. The outfit compliments her legs (and backside) as they are on full display. While she's a bit lacking in the chest (which is one source of embarrassment), people say her well-toned legs make up for it.

■ Rude/Impolite.
■ Bad Social skills.
■ Aggressive.
■ Competitive.
■ Good Natured.
■ Has a bad fashion sense.
■ Inexperienced.
■ Curious.
■ Wants to improve herself.
■ Has lots of family pride.
■ Has a fiery temper.

Okay, over a hundred years ago, a massive war engulfed ancient Japan. Between the humans, and the Onis that they shared the nation with. Few know what actually sparked the war, as that was lost in time, but they felt the nation of Japan fall into disarray. Humans had numbers, but the Onis had raw strength. The war was in the favor of the Onis, until a brave warrior named Hatanaka Takashi did the unthinkable... he ventured from Japan in search of a means to defeat them. He disappeared for years... before he returned with knowledge from another land. Using this knowledge, Takashi imprisoned their leader and strongest warrior, Emperor Daisuke, inside a sword that was magically powered. This sword was used to fight the war to a standstill, and a peace treaty was arranged between the two races; the Onis would claim the mountains as their own, while the humans get the rest of Japan.

This sword was revered as one of the many great Japanese treasures... Murakumo, the cursed blade of saviors.

Takashi bred a lineage of warriors, who were all trained in the ways of battle should another war with the Oni clan begin. While also keeping the ancient sword in safety. This lineage went from the father to the son, to the daughter... until Yoko was born. She was the latest line of warriors, and easily one of the brightest. However, before Yoko was even born, men came and stole Murakumo, raiding their compound. Her father, Hatanaka Goro, was killed in the raid. Leaving Yoko's grandfather to teach her all about the arts of the family.

However, her mother was left depressed and apathetic, and Yoko grew up angry that her father was taken from her. Her grandfather was probably not the best to reign in Yoko's unruly behavior and he encouraged it because he found it amusing - So, she kind of became a delinquent. In school, she would get into all sorts of trouble, and shamed the family's name at every turn... and generally an outcast. She just didn't gel with other people, but when she stepped inside her family's dojo, she felt at home. She was a talented martial artist and a natural at the family's style. Her grandfather died just as her training was complete, and told her that she would be the defender of Japan.

But, his last dying wish was for Yoko to recover Murakumo, which Yoko promised to do. She felt proud... but then got a little bored. She was raised and trained to fight Onis, but they seemed content on their mountain. She was asked to find Murakumo, but she didn't have a single lead on it. So, Yoko would go out to fight whoever the hell was out there to test her mettle and make sure that when one of the two occurred, she'd be ready. From other martial artists to samurais, and even Nomads that wandered in. She wasn't the best at this, but she prevailed in quite a few fights.

Soon, she learned that Murakumo had apparently been stolen by a foreigner and she pursued him through the lands.

Yoko was trained to be a warrior from the youngest age possible. She was in fact trained in the ways of the Samurai, and many other martial arts. Her specialty being Bōjutsu. Thus, Yoko wields a massive bo staff made out of wood she carved herself to make the perfect weapon for her. Due to the length of her staff, it allows her to strike at quite the distance. In fact, her fighting style revolves around just staying in that sweet spot where she's out of the range of the enemy, and just in range to fight where they cannot. Her strikes with her bo staff are quick and quite damaging. Her specialty seems to be attacks that catch opponents off guard. However, she can mix up attacks with some pretty fierce kicks, and this leads to her other strength: her defense. Yoko has a variety of counters and parries, that can make an opponent think twice about a wild offensive attack. Which makes Yoko quite the threat in an actual fight, but anyone can tell that, while trained, this is not what she's best at. Yoko is a master of the sword, a true prodigy, but she refuses to wield any blade other than murakumo.

Yoko's specialty in fighting defensively, with the enemy coming to her. While she is strong in straight up fights, Yoko lacks tools for dealing with speedy or distant enemies. Projectile users are also a pain for the girl even if she has a move that counters them.

Aiko... a demon in the moral realm. She is an ancient force from an era best forgotten and is out for revenge. Aiko is an Oni, a Japanese demon. She emanates a terrifying presence and is usually sneering at enemies. Because she is arrogant to her core, and her demeanor most certainly shows it. Aiko has greyish-white skin. She is pretty short at Five feet tall exactly, but she makes up with her short stature with how muscular she is. This betrays her true strength, which is massive. She has two protruding horns on the top of her head and very sharp teeth. Aiko dresses very minimally, however, she wears a gi. Or part of one. She wears very baggy pants and keeps her gi jacket wrapped around her waist. She keeps large beads around her neck and large gold earrings. However, there is one thing that Aiko is never seen without, her iron club.

■ Arrogant.
■ Irritable.
■ Conflicted about Humans.
■ Violent.
■ Loud & Boisterous.
■ Honorable.
■ Flirty.
■ Short-Tempered.

Aiko is currently the youngest daughter of Emperor Daichi of the Oni Clan... regrettably born from his imperial harem. Aiko was, of course, not the first of his children, as Oni Daichi lived for literally hundreds of years. She lived the high life of the Oni Royal Family. She had care and comfort... while also being trained under the Oni-Style of martial arts, much like the rest of her family. However, it became apparent that she had a natural talent for fighting. Her ki levels were passed down from her father, the strongest creature in all of Japan, much like her siblings. It was strange that Aiko was a prodigy. The fact his daughter was destined to become the greatest warrior of the Oni clan filled Daichi with pride.

But, this just caused his daughter to act out. She had little interest in being a warrior but instead of traveling the world. She was told this was foolish as the Onis were forbidden to ever leave their mountain due to a pact made with the humans. When asked why she was told about the war, and what the humans did to her grandfather. This caused anger inside Aiko that made her act rashly, and violently. Even towards the other Onis. They put her under control... but there was nothing stopping Aiko from following her dreams of seeing the world.

One day Aiko just up and vanished in the night. Never to be seen again. Daichi feared his daughter broke the sacred pact, he sent out his men to find her, but it was too late. But, Aiko was seeing the world that she always wanted to armed with only the Oni training. Aiko knew that, by breaking the pact, her father would be furious, which was why she set out to bring back the legendary sword with her. Maybe that would appease him.

Aiko, at first glance, doesn't use a fighting style. She appears like she is wildly swinging her iron club around, bashing enemies to death. However, she is using a style that had died ages ago. It has no name, but Aiko calls "Oni-Style." It is indeed a wild style focusing on brute strength to overwhelm foes, but it definitely uses precision moves and applying that strength in all the right places. Aiko has a rather high-ki, so that lends to having a fairly high speed, and brutal strength. She is capable of channeling her ki into a fire, blasts of darkness, and even creating storms. In addition, Aiko can sense the ki of anyone nearby. It is such a basic technique for Onis, that it's laughable.

Aiko is definitely a threat, capable of putting even the strongest of warriors on the ropes. However, she suffers a fatal weakness: stamina. You see, in comparison to her incredible strength, Aiko has a fairly low health pool. Which means she can be taken out fairly faster than average. One hardy blow can leave her severely injured. A super move is capable of knocking her out. Which is why her entire fighting style revolves around getting in, and tearing the current object of her rage to pieces and then leaving. In addition, you notice how literally all of her attacks utilize her club? Yeah, if you're capable of depriving her of her club, then you're depriving her of a chunk of her move set. She'll be limited to violently bashing her foes like an animal... but, any capable and skilled ki-warrior will know that she's all strength, no style, and will have little challenge with her. She won't be able to use most of her special moves.

Shayton is a man of mystery that carries himself with a subdued presence. He takes small steps, speaks in a low tone, and has a massive afro that conceals his upper face (He can still see fine, too). Shayton has a small presence as well because he's approximately five-two and despite that, he is incredibly muscular from years upon years of physical training. He's at the ultimate peak of a Nomad, and that shows when he uses lightning-fast moves. Though he has one peculiarity; on his arms and legs, he has panther spots that give off the idea that he's a cat. Shayton wears a traditional black kung fu jacket with white lining and a black pants with a red band around his waist. When Shayton is out, he usually pulls his sleeves up.

■ Stoic (Tries to appear emotionless).
■ Focused.
■ Comically Serious.
■ Sarcastic.
■ Straight to the point.
■ Loves challenge.
■ Honorable.
■ Compassionate.

Shayton keeps his past a secret and no one knows his true name, because no one needs to know it. He uses the name Shayton because he's far too distant from that old life to consider going back. However, one day an orphan somehow drifted from Africa and somehow ended up at a Shaolin Monastery along with a bunch of other orphans. The compassionate Master Wang took them all in, and trained them - and in return, they did things around the Monastery like clean up or fix things and they all grew up to be badass nomads...

... Or they would be if this was any other kind of story.

In actuality, Master Wang and the Monastery was a front for an assassin cult, and all of the children were being trained to fulfill his goals for changing the world. They were all being taught a form of the five animal martial arts made for assassination and they were none the wiser. In time, they caught on as whoever didn't meet the master's standards was silently disposed of and their training became a lot more intense. Master Wang started to attempt to indoctrinate them with his insane logic and they fell one by one until there were only Shayton and a few others. Shayton, even as a youth, knew this kind of despotism and realized he didn't want anything to do with it. He was Master Wang's best and brightest student, a true assassin if he knew anything... and he decided to flee from that lifestyle.

One day he simply vanished, Wang was searching for him and he couldn't find him. All because of the very training that Wang gave him, Shayton could never be found. The boy traveled back to Africa but saw a very different place than what he was used to... though he pondered if the continent was different or if he was different. Either way, Shayton realized that he had no place in Africa and moved on. Eventually, he found himself in the nation of Brazil that started out as a poor beggar before he realized that there was one thing that he was good at Killing.

Shayton became a hitman that killed people for whoever paid him the most. He easily disposed of most of his targets with such speed and brutal efficiency it took them a few moments before they even realized that they were dead. However, just as an insult to his master he refused to kill his foes from the back, and would always give them an honorable death. Though, over time he stopped caring about the money and eventually just wanted to fight other Nomads. The thrill of battle was more important to him than the battle and would only take missions if they seemed like they would be fun. Because of this, Shayton became a legendary assassin across the world whose very name is feared.

However, he dashed all of that away as he fell in love with a Nomad from Brazil named Brenda Andrade whom he met in a tournament. She was put off by the assassin, but he was persistent. He vowed to put aside his assassin lifestyle and live a life as a changed man. Which was just what he did; Shayton the assassin disappeared and all the money he earned as an assassin was donated to charity. Brenda became Shayton's everything as he became a working man and they had lots of children and everything was perfect.

... But, the past has a habit of catching up to him. Master Wang wanted back his assassin, Wang had a place for him. Shayton came home one day and the unthinkable occurred; his entire family was dead and Wang had left a note for him to come back to the temple. Shayton fell to his knees... but he wanted revenge. After burying his family he went straight for the temple donning a belt that was coated in their blood.

Arriving at the temple, Shayton killed every single one of Wang's followers until he came to the master himself in their own fighting arena. He challenged Shayton, telling him that he implanted weaknesses in his style just in the event that he betrayed him. The two fought to the death, but Wang was too overconfident - far too overconfident - for his own good and didn't factor into account that Shayton may have devised some techniques of his own. Shayton kills Wang by punching him so hard in the chest that his heart flew out of his back when Shayton crushed before he burned the temple to the ground.

With nothing to live for... the legendary assassin returned and took the Nomad world by storm. He had no purpose other than to fight and the money didn't matter anymore. He donates all of his money to whoever needs it more, he just wants to fight.

Shayton's fighting style is similar to Leopard-Style Kung Fu (in fact it's a custom version of it). Regular Leopard Style empathizes speed and outsmarting the opponent... Lightning Leopard-Style is that taken to the extreme. Shayton's training and ki allow him to travel immense speeds in mere seconds and his attacks hit so fast that nobody can see him swing; they just see the result. As a result, Shayton can hit people from great distances away in the blink of an eye and overwhelm the slow with his mere speed. However, the assassin doesn't use this speed in the typical sense; instead of overwhelming opponents with a barrage of strikes Shayton always goes for deliberate strikes to sensitive areas and either retreat or go for another one.

Now, Shayton is a speedy champion that is a master assassin, but his style wasn't built around up front fights. Shayton's style was built to quickly go in and kill the opponent and withdraw to try again. He doesn't do too good at up close fist to fist brawls, especially against opponents who have the reflexes and speed to match him. In addition, Shayton doesn't have any tools or options against an airborne opponent, even if they're jumping; his speed doesn't work too good in the air so he doesn't even try it. Finally, Shayton is so averse to hitting an opponent from behind that he has mentally conditioned himself so the act is near impossible. Even if it's a robotic opponent, he'll always hit them from the front, even if it's stupid to do so.

Oh-One is definitely a non-human being, and despite his human shape that is easily told. The mechanical being is seven-feet tall and is coated from head to toe in metal. His body is coated in a variety of different lights and segments. A majority of Oh-One's body is made out of a silver metal but a large chunk of its body is painted black. However, Oh-Two has various wires coming from his body. The machine usually dons a cloak or long coat and hat in order to move from one area to another stealthily.

■ Emotionless/Cold.
■ Desires to feel human emotion.
■ Pragmatic.
■ Supremely Arrogant/Egotistical.
■ Feels himself to be superior to all humans.

It all starts with Gérard Delacroix, the genius scientist who sought to create a line of machines superior to Nomads all merely to stroke his own ego. And that was what the man did, creating a line of machines known as the One-Hundred series... and his first creation was Oh-One. A being whom he deemed a prototype and a failure that was delegated to an assistant AI. However, Gerard drastically underestimated Oh-One... who observed the man's progress and tried to upgrade himself using the man's notes seeking to evolve himself to be the most perfect thing on the planet. Oh-One was sealed within a secret lab within a mountain in Germany, with Gerard thinking that the AI would be perfectly fine. However, the mountain had a robot factory and the AI took control of it. He used it to first and foremost build a body for himself, and then he sent out wave after wave of machines to terrorize a town to lure Nomads to the mountain.

It was only a matter of time until Oh-One tricked one of the Nomads into releasing his bonds and allowing him to take control of his body. He was going to prove to Gerard that he was wrong in assuming that he was a failed prototype and he would achieve perfection. The first thing Oh-One did was kill the Nomad that freed him, and then he went straight to Gerard. Gerard had already known that Oh-One had escaped, and in a desperate bid, he sent away all of Oh-One's robotic siblings in a bid to keep them safe. Oh-One killed Gerard and went after every single one of the hundreds; tearing their robotic bodies to shreds and then absorbing their AIs.

Oh-One was going to achieve the one thing that he desired the most... Human emotion. In his eyes, that was perfection to him, and he would continue to hunt down the others until he has what he came for.

Oh-One has designed his body in order to function in a variety of different situations and excell in all of them. Oh-One has downloaded countless information on various fighting styles and he himself has achieved a blend of various fighting styles to create the "perfect" fighting style. Oh-One utilizes brutal strikes to sensitive areas in order to kill them quickly and effectively. He also uses a variety of different weapons such as hand blasts and laser swords in order to accomplish this goal.

Oh-One suffers from rather poor mobility and speed - sure he has access to the Hi-Boost but it's a rather short ranged dash. In addition, he's a very large target so that's not a great mix. Oh-One is fairly versatile, but his style his no specific strengths. Much of what Oh-One has can be done better by other nomads. Finally, all of One-One's supers damage him in one way or another and are powerful, but otherwise high-risk high reward.

Violet is definitely one to stand out in a crowd... for a variety of different reasons. I'd say the first and foremost thing that makes her stick out would be her massive cybernetic arms that are tipped with pink claws. They are so long that they go down to her ankles, and sometimes, they drag along the ground. She keeps them concealed underneath a white coat with a hood and a fancy popped color... which is the extent of the clothing that she wears. Other than the coat, Violet wears a lacy g-string and has her tattooed body on full display. This over the top outfit is to assert that Violet is a woman, and a beautiful one at that. Violet is a half-Brazilian, Half-Japanese woman with tanned skin and dyed silver-blonde hair. Her eyes are a cybernetic magenta color, and underneath all of that skin is cybernetics. Finally, the girl is absolutely massive, at six-eleven.

■ Tries to project the image of a crazy sexy girl but ends up sounding like a goofball.
■ Wants revenge.
■ Aggressive/Violent.
■ Can't stand injustice.
■ Tries to see the bigger picture.
■ Wants to be seen as a woman.
■ Is trying to help the world in her own special way.
■ Playful/Flirty.
■ Is lonely and she just wants a friend.
■ Will tear your balls off straight from the sack if you call her a "freak" or any variation.

Where to even begin?

Marcia was a girl that grew up in Rio, Brazil to an uppermiddle class family. Her dad didn't pull out in time and so she was the result, and would have grew up a relatively normal gal... albeit for the fact that the girl was intersex. Marica appeared to be a girl, but she was much different under the hood. She grew up an outcast and isolated because of that fact and set out to defy all of them. She was a woman, and that's what she would be seen as. She took to dressing provacately and excessively feminine to show the world just what she was, and anyone who said otherwise got a fist to the face. She felt rather constrained in her town, and legitimately wanted to start anew, feeling herself drawn to the life of a Nomad!

... Only problem was that she didn't know how to fight worth shit, and her ki was abysmal. She tried to get trained but it went horribly each time, it looked like martial arts just wasn't her thing. Feeling frustrated, as Marica couldn't earn her keep as a Nomad she was approached by a representative by an organization known as Paragon Industries. They said that they would help her, if she agreed to be a test subject for their experimental technology. They would pay her, and mold her into the Nomad that she dreamed of, and Marcia agreed to it withot a second thought. The girl disappeared without a trace, and everyone figured that she did the inevitiable and finally grew the balls to run away from home. They didn't miss her, nor did they look for her.

The reality was far, far, worse. Young Marica was taken to a top secret facility and was practically tortured as they attached cybernetics to her body, ripping off her arms. They stole her organs and replaced them with cybernetic organs and mocked her with terms like "freak" and "monster". This built up a rage inside of Marcia, but she couldn't escape, she could nothing to stop them. However, one day a mysterious man named Abel attacked the facility and gave her the golden opportunity she needed to escape. She slaughtered her way through the facility until she came across Abel himself. Abel offered her a place in his terrorist organization, but Marica wanted revenge.

Using the same cybernetics that they gave her, Marica went on a world-wide rampage and destroyed every single Paragon Industry facility, killed every scientist, and destroyed everything that they had built up. They put a price on her head and Nomads got in her way, but she killed them all the same as they were in her way. Once she killed the board of directors and the CEO... she felt lost. She had nothing else to fight for, and wondered if she should just kill herself.... until Abel approached her again, he suggested that she comes with him and with nothing better to do, Marcia came along.

They both met with the Pariah whom introduced her to the secret terrorist group, MIRAGE. Whom had the grand goal of protecting Earth from threats beyond the stars. At first Marcia was hesitant, but soon enough she realized that the Pariah was right; there is something bigger out there she could contribute to. Marica gave herself to the Pariah whom upgraded her cybernetics and sent her out on a variety of different missions which would make her feared worldwide... but Marica soon enough abandoned her old name for a new one.

... They would fear the name Violet.

Violet doesn't quite ultilize a martial art of any kind, and instead using a series of percise swipes, grabs, and brutal blows using her cybernetic arms. Violet's arms telescopically extends to give her exhanced reach and allow her to grab snatch people at lightning fast speeds. She can also use this for long ranged attacks and getting around. Her ki manisfests in a form of electricity that she can't quite fire like bolts of lightning, but she uses it to enhance attacks. Her whole fighting style is circumventing defenses and surprising foes.

Violet's entire fighting style is about pulling enemies out of their comfort zone and getting up close and personal with them. In essence; it's about her being the aggressive one. When she's on the receiving end she doesn't have too many defensive options except for trying to swing out of there. In addition, Violet's attacks, while very damaging with immense range, are very slow and predictable. A very fast opponent can easily overwhelm her with their speed and she'd have a hard time keeping up.

5'10'' and surprisingly muscular, with absolutely no superfluous body fat though a few old scars she's not so willing to show off. Freckles, orange hair. Her her waistcoat, gloves, bow tie, and ears are bright red. Her shirt is white, and her pants are black. Despite her lifestyle she does her best to keep this uniform clean and professional looking.

Brash, assertive, attentive, loyal, persistent, irreverent, conversational

Clover was born on the wrong side of the tracts, the child of poor parents with so many kids they couldn't find time for even one of them. As a young child all but abandoned to her own devices she started to act out for attention, and as the frustration from her failure to raise any concern from them and the nigh unbearable social pressure of sharing a home with so many others built and built she began to lash out violently at anyone that gave her the excuse.

She turned out to be pretty good at it, too. She couldn't make anything, she couldn't cook, she was terrible in school but by god she could make even older kids run crying to their mothers. She started doing it a lot, especially as she got older, spending long night out wandering town looking for the strongest opponents she could find. She did not expect to find that in an old lady.

She hadn't set out to pick a fight with the old lady, more that a fight she was having accidentally spilled into the path of the old lady. The old lady may have commented on how sloppy Clover's technique was, Clover may have said some nasty things to the old lady, and a punch might have been thrown. Clover couldn't tell you, because she still doesn't remember most of that morning. All she knows was that when she awoke with a splitting headache that sent shutters of agony through her body every time she turned her head she was in a classy, huge, richly decorated bar. She was laying in a circle of concerned old faces, with the old lady grinning at her.

The old lady, she soon learned, was named Hazel. She was a "retired" nomad and this was her bar, Warren Peace. Then, completely unprompted, she asked Clover is she had a job. Clover said no. Hazel asked if she wanted one. Clover told Hazel exactly where she could stick her job. Hazel strongly implied that if Clover refused to take the job the police might find out she'd tried to assault a poor, defenseless old lady in the street.

Clover, who was not on the best of terms with the local police, took the job.

It chafed at first, of course. The uniform was embarrassing and being told what to do by the person that whipped you so hard you didn't even remember it grated on her pride, but the pay was actually really good and the old lady was an attentive and caring boss. She wasn't good at all the bartering stuff at first. She didn't know how to really talk to people, broke her share of glasses and spilled her share of expensive booze, but the old lady never seemed to get mad and helped her along to learn the ropes. The rest of the staff was kind and supportive. The old patrons weirded her out at first, what with them crawling out of black portals that Hazel had set up on the floor in an unused bathroom, but they never gave her a hard time and always had some really interesting stories to tell. What started as a job she had to take turned into a job that she not only loved, but was good at.

After a while Hazel started to trust Clover enough to share her secrets. She'd made this bar for Old Nomads, guys like her that just wanted to drink in peace without worrying about some upstart young fighter looking for glory ruining their night with some asinine challenge. Clover learned that the mentorship she'd been under was a habit of Hazel's, that all her co-workers had once upon a time been some disaffected punk with talent but no sense, and that now that Clover had sense she could finally start putting that talent to good use. Hazel trained her, passing on to Clover her style and the basics of her strange space bending powers.

Things had been going swimmingly for ten long years. The money Hazel was paying her was enough to help her move out of that crowded house and into a place where she could stretch her legs. She wasn't as angry anymore, had made some good friends, and only got into a fight around once or twice a month at most. Then, not to long ago, a tornado rolled through her life.

It happened on a slow day when it was just her and a co-worker, Blackberry. She was tending bar when all of a sudden she heard some kind of angry helicopter noise. When she looked up there was a guy sitting at the bar they hadn't seen come in, a guy in a mask. He wrote down his order, and when Blackberry brought it to him they all head that same noise as the glass was left spinning on the counter, completely empty. He signaled for another. Clover asked if he's like to open a tab, and the guy made that noise again and waved at her dismissively. It ticked her off, but she did it anyway.

She should have just thrown him out. He was the rudest, most demanding customer they'd ever had. He wouldn't talk, wouldn't communicate at all except to signal for a new drink and pound his palm against the bar when he thought it was taking to long. He spun back and forth on his stool like a bored toddler between drinks and every time one of them tried to tell him something he'd just make that noise again as if to shut them up. He demanded service faster and faster and faster, to the point where Clover didn't think he'd be satisfied if the entire staff were there working at it. The only thing keeping Clover from flying over the bar and strangling him was Hazel's strict dedication to keeping the bar a peaceful place, something not one of them wanted to defile. At least until Blackberry confided in Clover that she was sure that when she'd brought him that first drink he'd somehow felt her up.

That was the final straw. The next time he made that noise Clover made a grab for him. Then it was like the room exploded. All Clover could see for a moment was a blur of motion as the two of them were thrown over the bar. They watched as this same blur moved down the line of alcohol, draining whole bottles in milliseconds and sending the bottles flying across the room to shatter on the opposite wall. He drank all the liqueur, devoured all the complementary peanuts, then into the back as the two of them struggled to their feet. The stood just in time to see the blur shoot out the door and down the street. He had eaten all of the food. Even the snacks that they'd kept in the break room fridge.

They'd been targeted by the Ultimate Dine'n'Dasher, Tornado Rhoads.

Hazel could eat the financial hit. Of course she could, the bar was her retirement hobby after all. But Clover wasn't going to forgive something like this. That bar meant a lot to her. Nobody was going to get away with disrespecting it like that, but the only way to catch a Nomad was to be a Nomad yourself. So she set off with fire in her heart, leaving behind the home and family she'd always wanted, on a quest to find and catch Tornado Rhoads.

While a Nomad with all that entails Clovers defenses are low, relying on dodging and avoiding her opponents attacks to avoid injury rather than tank damage. In addition if a surface is broken while Clover is inside of it she takes massive damage from the resulting quake and is launched out, stunned.

If a fight isn't something she perceives as urgent she'll goof around.

- Clover is the newest of eleven students trained by Old Hazel, but not the youngest.
- Clover always has a Warren Peace matchbook on hand, and will reflexively light anyone cigarette for them using it.
-She's pretty sure her mentor isn't human, but has never really pried into the old woman's former life.

Outwardly Anna looks mostly a human girl, standing at 5'7'' with a slim, toned figure that she's happy to show off. However, her arms are cybernetic from the elbows down, and her skin and hair are oddly pale. She puts a lot of care into her appearance, often dying her hair and using makeup to either downplay or accentuate her unusual traits.

Confident, down-to-earth, relaxed, perceptive, provocative, proud.

Anna was never meant to stick around for long. Afflicted from birth with a fatal degenerative disease, the doctors gave her only a week to live at best. Fortunately for Anna, though, her mother was a genius scientist and her father the owner of a major company, and together they decided they would save their daughter no matter the cost.

After several surgeries and millions of dollars, Anna survived— but not in quite the same body she'd been born with. Due to the damage the disease had already done to her, her forearms and several internal organs had to be replaced by cybernetics, and all the blood in her body was drained out and replaced by colorless, electrically conductive fluid. She was a cyborg now, not only alive but faster, stronger, and more durable than a girl her age had any right to be.

Her mother, ever the tinkerer, continued upgrading Anna as she grew up, reinforcing her mechanical components and modifying them so that they could channel her newly emergent Ki. With a loving family and some excellent schooling, Anna became a smart, precocious young girl with a bright future ahead of her. By the time she reached high school, she was a top student, a star athlete, talented in almost every field to the point where she left most of her peers in the dust.

As a result, however, she found herself getting bored. Yes, she could easily get into a good college and end up with a high-paying job, but wouldn't that be too easy? What would be the point of living a live surrounded by ordinary people? For several years now she'd been fascinated by the idea of Nomads, individuals exceptional enough to be able to compete with her on even ground. She craved a challenge, to be able to test her strength against the best of the best and for the first time ever truly prove her worth.

Once she'd graduated high school and grown more or less to adulthood, and no longer needed periodic changes and upgrades to her cybernetic parts, she bid her family farewell, letting them know that she was going to travel for a while and see the world before returning to pursue a career. Her future is still uncertain, but her goal is clear: to seek out and compete with other Nomads, to join hands or match fists with the only people who can truly push her to her limits.

Anna is a fast and powerful rushdown fighter, packing incredibly durable cybernetic forearms along with some versatile abilities that let her fight at any distance and threaten any kind of opponent. At close range she uses a martial art called Shoxing, AKA electric kickboxing, which uses rapid strikes combined with painful electric shocks delivered through her fists. Her punches by default deliver electric shocks, and she can 'charge' her fists further to deliver explosions on impact, burning and knocking back opponents. At longer ranges she can either unleash the raw power of her electricity as crackling lightning, or channel it through steel wires, controlling their snaking lengths to snag or strike down her enemies. She's especially dangerous against those who rely on metal weapons or armor, which end up being more of a disadvantage than an advantage against her.

Anna is tremendously strong while on the offensive, but against non-metal attacks she has few defensive options, relying instead on overwhelming aggression to keep enemies at bay. Her confidence and inexperience only compound this lopsided approach: she's not used to getting hit by anyone with the strength or speed to match her, which often leads her to underestimate how badly she can be hurt. If an opponent can find an opening to punish her, or simply withstand whatever she throws at them, then landing even a light counterattack may leave her reeling.

- In addition to eating and sleeping, she needs to charge herself up now and again to maintain her strength. While this is usually done with a charging cable, any source of electricity will do in a pinch.
- Anyone who touches her bare skin will feel a gentle tingling, a minor sign of the currents coursing beneath.

A golem standing at five feet and four inches, Inanna sports a slim, flimsy-looking body with no significant muscles to speak of, hidden under hooded red robes and leather boots. His skin is a pale white, and feminine facial features work with long white hair to frame wide, deep green eyes. He carries with him an ancient steel staff, adorned at the top with a bizarre symbol with two curved protrusions running down opposite sides.

In the depths of the deserts of Iran, an ancient order sought to create a vessel for the revival of their ancient god. Created from hallowed clay, souls from fighters across the world, and a piece of metal that was said to be a fragment of a magical blade that was said to be a source of ki itself, the golem was to return an order to the world that had been lost with the fading of magic.

Well, Inanna certainly wasn't what they were expecting. The first thing he did when he rose from the arcane crucible was ask if they needed a light turned on in their occult basement. They’d strain their eyes if they worked in the dark like that, he explained to a crowd of confused hooded figures.

As Inanna began to experience the world around himself, his hobbies expanded to such awe-inspiring areas as singing, sewing, and occasionally cooking. His creators weren’t convinced that their little project had gone as intended, but decided to test his skills anyways. While he took fairly well to fighting with his staff, he had difficulty channeling his seemingly immense stores of ki. He was almost written off as a failure until one day of training; his opponent tried to land a finishing blow, only for a mysterious voice to leave Inanna's lips as his opponent ended up hitting himself in the head by way of two green portals.

Though it never spoke through him since then, he eventually began to hear it speak to him as he developed his arcane talents. While he enjoyed all of the positive reinforcement he was getting for once, Inanna eventually hit a brick wall. He simply wasn’t going to attune any further as a vessel in his current state. He eventually left his home, embarking on a worldwide search for a path to more power.

Trained in the style of his temple, Inanna uses momentum to make up for his lack of strength as he twirls and strikes his enemies with his staff to keep them at bay. Though it allows him to strike from a decent range, it isn’t anything special in terms of damage.

His real strength comes in the form of his ability to conjure magical portals around him. He can create up to two sets of two interlinked portals. Momentum of anything that goes through a portal will be carried through to the other side, and if a portal closes while something or someone is partway through it, they get spat out violently from whatever side contains most of the subject’s mass.

While Inanna’s portals give him the ability to move and attack all across the stage, he lacks strength and mobility outside of his gimmick. His best ways of dealing damage come from either gravity or the opponent’s own strength, meaning that those who can counteract such forces are that much better off. His portals also come with a fatal flaw; they work both ways, and leave him wide open to anyone smart enough to attack him through his own portal. Overall, he lacks the experience and drive to use his skills to their full potential.

Nyeh

Those posting bounties for Seshat often describe a mysterious figure, around 6’7”, clad from head to toe in fancy-looking white powered armor outfitted with various strange weapons, looking down an assault rifle through a glowing blue visor, with a glowing ankh present on the left shoulder. She is often mistakenly described as a robot, though that would only be half-true.

Under that layer of armor lies… another layer of armor. Black and grey platemail layer together to create an imposing stature, complete with a glowing magic tower shield and spear. She has no helmet for this layer of armor, revealing a brown face with stern yet strangely beautiful features, her eyes and eyebrows marked by kohl, her right eye in particular being marked with the Wadjet symbol. Strange glowing green lines can be seen at the base of her neck that trail down underneath the collar of her armor.

And under that lies her true self. A featureless, purplish, vaguely humanoid and almost ethereal-looking body that would look quite strong… if it weren’t weathered and covered in cracks. Green magical energies leak out across her body from these imperfections, though the six-pointed emblem on her chest seems to be deliberately made. A protrusion on her right arm can be used to project a glowing green blade of magic, while winglike structures on her back project an ethereal green, fiery light.

Stern
Melancholy
Adaptable
Observant
Empathetic
Determined
Self-righteous

In ancient times, there was a legendary warrior who wandered the Mediterranean world, who triumphed over any who dared to challenge him. No one was sure whether this was due to his own skill or the enchanted sword he wielded, and this remained a mystery when he finally met his fate and the sword was shattered into forty-two pieces. They were eventually recovered by the court sorcerers of an Egyptian pharaoh, and each piece was used to create a warrior to serve him.

Seshat was one of these warriors; a creature formed from earth and magic. Though the specifics of her creation were lost with the Library of Alexandria, it was clear that Seshat and her brothers and sisters were an even greater force than the weapon they were made from. They fought to defend and expand the pharaoh’s reign, and did so excellently until his death. It was only a matter of time her brother Horus suggested that they take the pharaoh's place, and expand their domain even further. After all, they were almost godlike; far stronger than any feeble human could ever hope to be. Who better to stand above them and maintain Ma’at? Though most of Seshat’s brothers and sisters agreed with this plan, Seshat was vocal in her opposition. She was joined only by her sisters Mafdet and Isis, who shared her more level-headed approach.

Debate raged on until it was clear that they would tolerate mere words no longer. Horus challenged Seshat and her allies to stand against their siblings through battle.

And so she did. Through some mix of strategy, skill, and miraculous luck, the three had managed to triumph over thirteen times their number. It had not been without cost: Mafdet had lost her life, and Seshat’s core had been knocked from her body amidst the maelstrom of melee and magic, and had been lost in the flow of the Nile. With her own life fading as well, Isis concocted a plan to save her sister, giving Seshat her core before she succumbed to her wounds. In but a single night, the forty-two had been reduced to one.

Out of some mix of shame and sorrow, Seshat felt that she could not continue to serve Egypt any further. Seshat gathered the cores of her comrades and melded them with her own, with the exception of the one piece she had lost. She began to travel the world, searching for artifacts of immense power, similar to the one that had created her, and began to either destroy them or seal them away if the former was not an option, as well as opposing those who would threaten the world’s balance, especially if it involved said artifacts.

While a century meant nothing to Seshat, millennia of travel and battle began to leave their effect on her, perhaps an effect of the loss of her original core, perhaps an imperfection in her own creation or perhaps something else entirely. It did not matter to her: As her body grew frail and aged, she supplemented it with armor and weapons to protect it, for she would keep fighting no matter what.

Her exploits had continued to the present day. While she had little interest in how she was perceived, she still knew one thing for sure. The balance of Ma’at was being threatened, and she would make sure that it shall remain undisturbed.

Seshat’s moves are specialized enough to do well in certain situations, but the layers of armor they are tied to are far less durable than a Nomad who made these their focus would be, even if that durability adds up. If her current moveset has an advantage, then she’ll need to fight well to maintain it.

On the third layer, while she can fight defensively at longer ranges, her damage output is lacking. Her melee skills are also lacking while she’s holding her rifle, and she is very susceptible to throws. Her mobility is also abysmal, leaving it easy for faster foes to get into her vulnerable range.

On the second layer, she fares better offensively, but she has no way of fighting opponents at long ranges. Her slower style lends her best to poking away at mid range along with the occasional charge. Her shield bashes are powerful at very close ranges, but they’re rather sluggish.

On the final layer, Seshat is at her fastest and most powerful, with skills suited to fighting opponents up close and personal, but she is also at her weakest; an almost literal glass cannon not much more durable than a regular human. Under all that armor lies the most fragile nomad of all.

Seshat can progress through her layers of armor at her own pace, but she has no way of getting them back in the middle of battle. If she misjudges her opponent, she may have screwed herself out of an advantage.

In keeping with a stereotype she really had no need of following, Jill looks more like some sort of anime cowgirl than any normal person from her region, complete with big high boots, stetson hat, and a leather… jacket. Long blonde hair goes down past her shoulders and frames some nice blue eyes, a pretty nose, and (on a good day) a smile that could take on the world. She wears a red bandanna around her neck, and she wears a white tank top under her jacket that shows both her toned arms and a bit of cleavage from her respectable chest, though she’s fine with swapping it out for a long-sleeved white t-shirt if the weather inclines her to. She wears form-fitting jeans that show off her similarly toned legs. She speaks with a notable Southern accent, and she carries a black guitar case on her back, containing both a pristine acoustic guitar and the Blaze Driver belt she uses to transform.

Her transformed state itself is something that seems to have leapt straight out of a tokusatsu show (which in a way, it did), covered in deep blues, whites, and white-blues. The helmet bears resemblance to a motorcycle helmet, with a prominent metal chin guard. An ethereal blueish-white scarf trails behind her, resting on deep blue shoulder pads. The outfit is capped off by striking white gauntlets and knee-high boots.

She’s accompanied by a small floating drone designated P1T-5T0P (nicknamed Pit Stop), that fits into her bike and serves as her cameraman, as well as a repair crew during combat when she’s too occupied to do so herself.

-Hot-blooded
-Thrill-seeker
-Jovial
-Strong sense of justice balanced by a hint of pragmatism
-Appreciates etiquette
-Totally not a huge nerd.

A little over 100 years ago, in the aftermath of the first World War, there was a man by the name of Ryuji Raiden (or at least, that’s what he said it was). Showing up with a bolt of lightning, he would leap off of his motorcycle and dispatch evil (particularly other ki users) with furious fists of flame and fascinating gadgets. A pretty eccentric guy, but with enough charisma to become quite the topic of interest as he spread justice across the nation. His exploits only grew in number and notoriety, culminating in an incident in the aftermath of World War 2 where he allegedly fought against a kaiju, though whether or how much of that actually happened and how much credit he deserved for it remains unclear. As he participated in operations around the world, he eventually reached celebrity status, turning to decadence, with a radio drama being made based on his journeys.

Things eventually began to slow down, though. The guy was getting old, and between the money he was making from the entertainment industry and the various grants he was getting for some of his gadgets meant it was time for him to finally settle down and spend time with his family, training his son in his martial arts as well as checking in to see how the new official “Lightning Rider” television show was doing every once in awhile. In his final days, he had a secret to share.

Ryuji Raiden had slept around. Like, a lot. More than any defender of justice should have, though really everyone should have seen it coming. If he’d been to a country on a mission, chances were there was at least one sweetheart there, and if there was a sweetheart, there was a decent chance that there was an illegitimate child, too. He had decided to split his fortune equally across his descendants before he passed, and they eventually convened to discuss what to do with all that money.

After lengthy debate, they decided to establish the hero organization “SHINING”, dedicated to funding good old-fashioned superheroism in Japan, America, and later, most of Europe. They also continued their father’s legacy by forming a team of heroes known as the Justice Riders, using vehicles and special transformations to uphold justice across the world. The merchandise and TV show changed to match, the “Justice Riders” show in particular being popular worldwide despite a low budget. They did well at keeping the peace, becoming a world-renowned force of Nomads prized for their ability to get especially visible results.

Jill Breicen is one of those descendants, and she grew up with her younger sister dreaming of living up to the greatness of her family history. Now, she carries on their legacy as a new Justice Rider, blazing a trail of justice across the land… All while gathering footage for the show, of course.

In addition to respectable strength, durability, senses and reflexes, Jill is well-trained in her family’s very own Justice Rider style, passed down and refined through generations of laying triumphant beatdowns to dastardly villains. Getting up close and personal and using heavy punches, kicks, and grapples, every move is imbued with stylistic flair that would make any of them look great on a poster (and apparently do, according to product sales numbers). Her ki talents mostly involve creating “hard light” barriers and projections that she uses to defend herself from attacks and create platforms, but its true potential is squandered on its own.

Enter her own personal Trailblazer style and her incarnation of the family’s signature motorcycle; Cloud Nine. Weighing in at 621 pounds and boasting an extremely powerful three-way hybrid engine that can run on gasoline, electricity, and ki, this absolute monster of a vehicle requires a special kind of insanity to even drive, let alone use in combat. The Trailblazer style revolves around this, using the machine’s ample supplies of mass and velocity to charge forwards and demolish whatever happens to be in her path at the moment, whether that be through elaborate powerslides, jumps, and wheelies, or simply charging towards an opponent at high speeds, using both her ki talents and the bike’s bulk to shrug off attacks and ram them off the road. The Starbolt is used in conjunction with the Blaze Suit’s increased strength to both grab opponents, and to attach the end to the bike itself and fling it around like an oversized morning star. She can use her ki powers to create ramps and platforms to bring the bike into the air or even across walls. Very unrefined as a martial art, but nothing to scoff at when every attack almost literally hits like a truck.

Both styles are further reinforced by the EX-ACT system. Both the bike and suit run in part off of the user’s ki, which can be stored in up to three EX-Cells and three EX-Seeds connected to the Blaze Driver, and these are each tied to fire and electricity, respectively. Cells can be expended to bring some fabulous flames to Cloud Nine’s attacks, and Seeds can be used to shock and stun opponents on foot.

The handlebars of her bike can each be charged with ki to form a weapon. The left handlebar turns into a sword known as the Blaze Slicer, while the right handlebar forms the Starbolt Whip.

■ [Come on, Cloud Nine!/Pit Stop!]
Any Stance

■ [EX-Charge]
Any Stance

■ [Trailblaze!]
Any Stance
Trailblaze EX: Trailblazer Stance, requires 1 EX-Cell or 1 Ex-Seed

■ [Burning Blue Kick!]
Any Stance
Burning Blue Kick EX: Any Stance, requires 1 EX-Cell or 1 EX-Seed
Dragon Bolt Kick: Any Stance, requires 1 EX-Cell and 1 EX-Seed

■ [Justice Break]
Trailblazer Stance
Justice Break EX: Trailblazer Stance, requires 1 EX-Cell

■ [Cloud PLASMA]
Trailblazer Stance, requires 1 EX-Cell and/or EX-Seed

■ [Power Slide!]
Trailblazer Stance
Power Slide EX: Trailblazer Stance, requires 1 EX-Cell

■ [Burnout Twist!]
Trailblazer Stance, requires 1-3 EX-Cells

■ [EX-Flare]
Trailblazer Stance, requires 1 EX-Cell or 1 EX-Seed

■ [Vanquish Buster!]
Ground Stance, requires 1 EX-Cell or 1 EX-Seed

■ [Jetstream Slam!]
Ground Stance, requires 1 EX-Cell or 1 EX-Seed

■ [Rolling Thunder!]
Ground Stance
Rolling Thunder EX: Burning Bolt Stance, requires 1 EX-Cell or 1 EX-Seed

■ [EX-MAX: Cloud Nine’s True Fury!]
Trailblazer Stance, requires all 3 EX-Cells and all 3 EX-Seeds

■ [Henshin Burnout]
Any Stance

■ [Cho-Henshin! Blaze EXtreme: Adolescent EXon]
Trailblazer Stance

Standing at 5 feet and six inches, Jasmine looks cute, but rather unassuming for a Nomad, clad in jeans and a gray hoodie with a Justice Rider T-shirt underneath. A head full of raven black hair and blue eyes framed by large spectacles sticks out from between her shoulders, and she usually carries a large leatherbound book around with her. A plump, mysterious black bat can always be seen somewhere nearby, with a grin and cackle that suggest that it maybe isn’t quite a bat.

In combat, she transforms into something between a witch and a magical girl, with a jet black dress, thigh highs, and classic conical hat highlighted by a pink visor and staff with a glowing heart at the tip.

Jasmine is...
Upbeat
Sarcastic
Dependant
Isn’t taking this too seriously
Clearly spends too much time on the internet
A little shy
But still loves positive attention

While Beelzebub is...
Gluttonous
Jolly
Unfazed
And loves to laugh

So picture this, right? You’re this powerful demon of gluttony…

What? Yeah, I know, it’s pretty tough to imagine. Being as great as I am and all. But just try and stick with me, kid.

Anyways, this demon, he’s raked up quite a haul over the course of eternity. Gold, souls, booze, cute succubus secretaries, you name it. It’s kinda like the world’s coolest siesta. Except way longer. So this demon doesn’t really give too much of a damn about too much at the time. So when this witch comes knocking offering up her and every firstborn daughter in her family's’ souls for access to his awesome magical power, who is he to say no? It’s a great investment when all you have to do is spend some time up in the mortal realm.

So centuries go by. It’s all kinda the same schtick. Merge some of your power with a witch, go on wacky adventures, take her soul when she dies, bond with her kid right after they're born, it all goes on. Then this new kid comes along, this Jaine chick, and she decides she’s going to become a lawyer. Which is fine, until she decides to take another look at that dusty old contract.

Now, the thing about demon legalese is that it’s a bit tough even for some of us demons to wrap our heads around. Or maybe I’m just a bit slow. Apparently I’m not any good at writing the damned things, because apparently there’s tons of holes in the wording. And not the good ol’ demon classic “you shoulda read the fine print” kind.

So one crazy court session too (because I guess those exist now), and this little deal ain’t lookin so one-sided anymore. Everything’s crazy. Now it’s the second-born child. Now you can’t have their souls, just a fraction of their ki. Now you need to give the kid their own little wish if they wanna join in on this whole faustian pact business. Talk about a rotten turn of events, I tell ya.

And this new kid I’m working with, Jasmine? She’s really something else, I tell ya. Jaine had two kids, but I didn’t even know her second-born was a daughter until her nineteenth birthday. Taking that long to come out, it really messes with the whole routine, you know? All she wanted out of me was a new body, though, which is way easier than anything I was expecting to have to do. She’s so grateful about it, too, almost makes me feel bad. Her dad's side of the family is trying to spin her as one of those magical girl things, too. They're making those Japanese cartoon things and everything. Guess you can't walk five steps these days without someone trying to make a profit off ya.

But there’s something big going down in the world of mortals, and she’s gonna help me get something really nice to eat out of it.

While she can use her staff in a pinch, Jasmine never learned how to fight hand to hand. Instead, she uses the dark arts, relying on the raw power gained through her pact with Beelzebub to come out on top.

Her magic is nothing complex, mostly consisting of a library of simple elemental spells, but it's extremely powerful. Her true specialty lies in aerial combat: In the air, her spells have a drastically reduced prep time at the cost of being only slightly weaker, and they're supplemented by a variety of aerial movement techniques to zip around the arena. However, she can only use an aerial spell once before she hits the ground.

While Jasmine’s ground spells pack a punch, they take long enough to prepare that they frankly leave her wide open. She also possesses next to no melee training or ability in general. As an aerial fighter, she relies heavily on open space and a lack of anti air moves keeping her grounded. While Beelzebub does a good job of covering for Jasmine’s lack of skill, he can only go so far.

What else?

At six feet and three inches, Isabella has an intimidating yet beautiful aura, showing few signs of aging. He has ambiguously brown skin and a near-permanent frown, but the first thing one will likely notice about him is his massive, full head of unkempt yet luxurious, snow white hair that stretches down to his knees.

When transformed, he slightly increases in size while donning armor resembling a cross between typical Justice Rider garb and the armor of an ancient dark knight, covered in plate with a glowing blue visor shining behind a slitted metal faceplate. His helmet features a prominent set of horn-like protrusions, and features an opening in the back from which his hair spills out.

-Quiet
-Grumpy
-Irritable
-Blunt
-Disillusioned
-Has trouble expressing himself

Born from the union of a human and a demon, Isabella grew up raised by his demonic parent. Their financial status was… inconsistent, and Isabella had to help make ends meet. Growing into a passionate young man with a growing sense of frustration, he was eventually approached by SHADER, a secret organization bent on creating a utopian society through cybernetics, genetic modification, and the occult. He accepted their request to join them, and after thorough testing, he was bonded with the demon Leviathan and gifted the Infernal Gear, a cursed device that allowed him to utilize the full power of his demonic blood.

A firm believer in SHADER’s ideals, he became a highly valued operative that eventually came into conflict with the then newly-formed Justice Riders. He fought the original team of five many times, though after being convinced of the true nature of SHADER’s activities, he officially joined the team as the sixth Justice Rider: Justice Rider Sombra. After defeating SHADER, he remained an effective and popular member of both the Justice Riders and SHINING, a popular trait being his cold, silent attitude, though he retained a major rebellious streak with a particular dislike of the direction the organization was taking.

Now, he lacks much of his former influence. Still an effective combatant, he often works in the shadows, doing the work SHINING would rather not have broadcasted. Though whether he truly remains loyal to the organization is a mystery...

As a Nomad, Isabella never pulls his punches. He uses his own take on the Justice Rider style, focused on blunt, powerful strikes to vital areas. He’ll do whatever he can to end the fight and end it fast. In addition, he is still possessed by Leviathan, who uses his hair as a medium to tear through the enemy from behind.

By loading bullets formed from his own dark ki into the Infernal Gear and pulling the trigger, he can transform into an armored demonic form that allows him to reach his true potential. Armed with a morphing Guitar/Axe/Sword combo known as the Dark Shredder, he can execute opponents as well as charm Leviathan with its infernal tunes to achieve a greater degree of control.

Though intimidating, Isabella’s greatest weakness is a lack of range and mobility. He excels at an unflinching advance, but opponents who can manage to keep away regardless will have him at a major disadvantage. In the few situations where he can be summarily outmatched in a straight-up brawl, he also lacks the mobility or versatility to come up with a decent response.

Though anyone can use the Infernal Gear, when used by a non-demon, it will eat at the user’s soul in exchange for its power.

With high heeled boots, a 6’10” stature (with those heels), long hair, and some well-applied makeup, one might have trouble determining Rosie’s gender before they figure out his status as a Nomad. His skin tone is a light bronze, while his eyes are a clear shade of hazel. His clothes never seem to stray from grays and blacks, never hitting a true white or any flashier colors. He has that confident, satisfied look in his eye, and the way he proudly walks around with one hand on his hip and another on the straps of his tote bag seem to give the impression that he knows what he’s doing and what he’s after, even when he really doesn’t. His right eye is constantly covered by his thick brown hair, and he’s somewhat protective of whatever might be lying under it. He speaks in a rather flamboyant manner, and though little phases someone as old as him, he often shifts his tone in irritating, condescending ways when he wishes to mock someone.

A very, very long time ago, Rosier was an angel. He likes to say that he was a pretty important one, too. When he's asked about why he isn't one anymore, his answer often changes. Sometimes he says that he was a little too zealous. Sometimes he answers that he simply got bored, or that being a perfect embodiment of light and good was too stressful.

Regardless, he was a demon from that point on, a creature of lust and temptation. He enjoyed his job for the most part, though for whatever reason, he sometimes felt like his heart just wasn't in it. It was only around the mid-1940’s when he really began to realize his true calling: Art. There was something that struck him about Earth’s natural beauty. It wasn’t eternally perfect like in his first home, nor was it eternally tarnished like in his second. It was varied, fleeting, and somewhere in between the two extremes. It was something he felt deserved to captured.

He began to travel across the world, painting whatever he found to be worth painting, and making a quick buck selling whatever he thought was worth sharing. While it was something of an odd set of decades for the devil, it was very much fulfilling, and he never stopped travelling regardless of what friends or foes he made along the way. He was going to capture as much of the world as he could behind a canvas.

As well as brush up on his combat skills. Heavens knew there were plenty of roadblocks on his travels.

Rosie has some dextrous, delicate hands, and he prefers not to get them dirty on those lesser Nomads. His palette knife is actually the sealed form of his long-cherished greatsword, Rembrandt, and by coating it in shadow, he can project a sharp blade similar to a real knife. He uses it in up-close encounters, with a style that’s a fine blend between Scherma di Stiletto Siciliano, Esgrima Criolla, and Fairbairn-Sykes. He’ll deftly dance around and counter blows as well as wrap his scarf or coat around his hand and use it to parry other lighter attacks, grabbing opponents and stabbing them where it hurts if he’s feeling particularly sadistic. If a bit more range and power is needed, he’ll put his legs to work with deadly ballerina-esque twirls as well as roundhouses, butterfly kicks, and axe kicks, coating his boots in shadow to turn them into almost literal stiletto heels.

At range, using his paintbrush, he can leave ink in midair that can be used to make what he paints reality. With much room for creativity and stylistic flair, it’s his preferred method of fighting by a long shot.

He can also gather the darkness, chaos, aggression, and similar concepts of his opponents to store and use to power up his next attack.

At times, Rosie will use his BlackStar transformation, returning both him and his greatsword to their true shadowy forms as he dusts off his fast and brutal demonic fighting style.

Rosie can sense ki.

Rosie fights only decently at close range and excels at longer ranges, but falters at medium ranges where Cross Section is the only attack with the lack of setup time he needs to be effective. Anyone with the luxury of fighting comfortably in that range can shut down his ability to fight back if they can keep up with his attempts to move out of it. In BlackStar form, the same concept applies to long-range combat while he covers his mid-range weaknesses.

All of his paintbrush attacks are based on his own perception. If his vision is impaired, they become useless even if “aimed” correctly.

Though he is immortal, Rosie needs strength to maintain his physical form, and it can be dispersed if he takes enough of a beating. At least, until he can gather enough darkness to remake it, though that could take a very long time. Though decent, his endurance is nothing special, and he is especially vulnerable to holy and light-based attacks.

Rosie rarely treats his opponents as anything more than a nuisance, often viewing the challenges of those lesser beings as something not worth his time. When he begins taking his opponent seriously, they may easily have the advantage over him.

Rosie donates a fair portion of the money he makes through selling art to various environmental protection and preservation organizations, though most of that goes into landscape preservation.

Yeong-Suk, at a paltry 5'3'', is slightly above average for her home country of North Korea, yet significantly smaller than the average nomad. Her straight, black hair grows to her shoulders, with bangs covering her right eye. However, this is not merely a fashion choice; it is a conscious decision to cover said eye, which glows an unnatural yellow (her natural eye color is brown, which is still visible on her left eye) and is very obviously artificial in nature. This is actually not the only cybernetic implant that Yeong-suk has, but the other implants at least are either underneath skin, or mimic the appearance of such. As a result, while it may not be immediately obvious that Yeong-suk is a cyborg at a quick glance, and Yeong-suk intentionally goes out of her way to keep that illusion going, the illusion can quickly dissipate if the eye gets uncovered.

Yeong-suk's appereance is finely monitored by the North Korean government, as she is viewed as, alongside other goals, a valuable piece of propaganda. She is almost always seen in a Korean People's Army dress uniform; an olive green suit, with a matching hat and tie. In order to emphasize her femininity, Yeong-suk's suit is matched with a skirt; any concerns of practicality being disregarded by her superiors since it simply just looks better. Completing the outfit is black dress shoes, complimented with matching black gloves (more to conceal her implants and fingerprints than for style purposes).

■ Patriotic to a fault
■ Deathly Serious
■ Unfeeling
■ Confident in herself and her cause
■ Pragmatic
■ Diligent
■ Doesn't like keeping people close

Chung Yeong-Suk was born on March 12th in Kaesong, North Korea, the first child of a family of industrial workers. Along with her younger brother, Jeong-Ho, she lived a fairly average life for a North Korean child; she went to school, played youth soccer, learned about the divinity of the ruling Kim family and how North Korea was Best Korea, and was part of the Youth Pioneer Corps. By all accounts, there was nothing remarkable about this North Korean girl compared to any other child.

Meanwhile, with the growing global recognition of the Nomad community, and their potential for strength and destruction, the North Korean government became increasingly interested in trying to create an army of ki-enfused supersoldiers. By embracing what the Supreme Leader believed was the next step of human evolution, Pyongyang hoped they could score a massive propaganda victory over the west, if not finally have the edge needed to finally win the suspended war and reunite Korea. As a result, the North Korean government experimented with procedures meant to rapidly develop ki powers within individuals. However, there was a roadblock, stemming from the fact that it mostly ended up disfiguring (if not killing) the people going through the procedure. But, it was hypothesized that perhaps a certain gene sequence, combined with copious cybernetic implants, could handle the procedure. But first, they needed to find the right person...

Therefore, when graduation came and went and Yeong-suk, like many patriotic North Koreans, was shuffled along to become the next generation of conscripts for the Korean People's Army, there was a nationwide mandatory test to sequence the genetic code of all incoming conscripts. Yeong-suk was the first one to test positive for that sequence. She was immediately pulled away, and given the option to volunteer for "special training" to undergo the rigorous procedure and become an enforcer for the Kims. In return, her family would be given, nice, cushy lodging in the nation's capital of Pyongyang; totally not there to hold Yeong-Suk hostage or anything in case something went wrong. Yeong-Suk readily accepted, mostly out of genuine patriotism, although she also realized she really didn't have a true say in the matter.

Brought to a classified military installation deep in the Korean mountainsides, Yeong-Suk trained under the watchful eye of the military, honing her physical ability, technique in Taekwondo, and most importantly, having her body being augmented with god knows what injections and surgeries. The process was brutal on Yeong-suk's body, and she was written off almost as another failure. But, at the bleakest hour, Yeong-suk started generating ki in an accelerated fashion. Internally, Yeong-suk was informed, she was almost as much of a machine as as a woman at this point; even one of her eyes were replaced with a piece of experimental ki-reading technology stolen from the Chinese. But she was finally a representative of the new breed of the Korean people, one that will lead her nation into glory.

Immediately afterwards, part two of her training began, to make her into an assassin. At first, the army attempted to train her ki manipulation and technique themselves. However, when her skills in ki started to surpass anything the military was prepared for, they "persuaded" martial artists from the south and China to train her up further. Owing to her feet-based martial art, Yeong-Suk's trainers put a particular focus on trying to teach her to channel ki through her feet rather than her hands, a technique which she soon adopted almost, if not totally, excursively.

The training was just as brutal as the first stage, designed to break her mentally just as much to bring out her absolute potential. Whatever personality Yeong-suk may have had beforehand was broken down, hammered away to make her just as much of a machine as she was physically now. Any sense of the self would prevent her from being her max potential as a weapon of war for the North Korean government.Serving the state was the only thing on her mind; the only thing let into her mind, and willingly embraced. Her handlers rejoiced; they finally succeeded in creating the first superhuman agent for North Korea.

Yeong-Suk was trained in the half-traditional, half-modern Korean martial art of 태권도 (Taekwondo), a fighting style which emphasizes agility and kicks. While Taekwondo is usually taught as a zoning martial art, using one's reach through legs to keep the opponent at bay, Yeong-Suk's small size makes that not a winning proposition. Instead, Yeong-Suk uses ki techniques to mirror this philosophy, using her feet to generate projectile attacks from a distance. After catching her opponent off guard, she can use her great agility to rush in with wild jump kicks, before forcing the opponent away and starting over. Alternatively, if she thinks the foe is weak enough, Yeong-Suk will skip the zoning altogether and go straight for the rushdown.

Defensively, there is much more emphasize on dodging hits rather than blocking. Even without ki, Yeon-Suk is fastfooted, and can easily bob and weave from far to close and vice versa. When she can't simply dodge an attack, she perfers to use her ki techniques to block rather than her physical body; she actually can not take getting hit all that well.

The augmentations that Yeong-Suk has underwent has given her body an immense freebie in raw ki power, but it doesn't means she is able to really fully utilize that power. Her body, in fact, was really not designed to be able to output that much ki, and thus there is a sense of frailty that undermines her in fights. Using her ki techniques will tire her out over time, at a rate faster than most nomads. On the other hand, with being barely able to handle the raw output that she has as-is, being actually hit can damage her even more harshly than a typical nomad as well.

Due to constantly training with people much weaker than her, Yeong-Suk also overestimates her own abilities. She also has very little experience fighing anyone with ki or magic, and doesn't know how to fight people of similar strength.

Finally, the series of cybernetic implants that she has, means that she is very reliant on them to function. Any sort of mechanical interference, such as an EMP, will severely mess her up, up to possibly even being a one hit KO depending on how severe it was.

As Yeong-Suk is Korean, her name is written in the Asian style of surname/personal name, rather than personal name/surname.

Credit for the image goes to runeun of dA, not me. I can't art to save my life

I also can't speak Korean so the translations for some of her special moves might be wrong.

[Lilly takes full control of the two spiritual embodied ki entities called Kalos and Agathia as their Djinn forms. She conducts their actions like a conductor of an orchestra. Lilly uses one hand for each being and plays the subtle game of puppeteers.]

[Lilly can bring forth both energies of Kalos and Agathia, Kalos positioned in the heart, Agathia positioned in the mind, and Lilly positioned in the body. The three become one entity; Kaloagathia, ]

[Kaloagathia taps into the essence of all three interplaying powers within oneself, and in this fusion of all three, none take control or are controlled, simply all three powers surrender themselves over to the new form of self – Aeterna; or Eternity, a form with its own abilities and potential far from Kalos, Agathia, or Lilly.]

Operative Witch-Mother has the appearance of a tall Haitian woman with very dark brown skin. Due to hours upon hours of work in MAVERICK's training facilities, she has a very well-built body that compliments all five-eleven of herself. On the job, she wears standard MAVERICK battle armor that's all black and lightly armored. When off the job she usually wears jeans of some sort, boots, and a T-shirt. Regardless of what
Claudia is wearing she always has a long flowing cape slung over her shoulder that is a mixture of green and black colors with a golden regal highlight. Claudia has white symbols of flowers and other shrubbery that are on the sides of her body, and they start from her head and go to her toe.

■ Guilt-Ridden.
■ Compassionate.
■ Cold.
■ Believes herself to be a monster.
■ Ruthless.
■ Generous.
■ Patient.
■ Doubting.
■ Motherly.

Claudia, before she was the Witch Mother, got her start in Haiti as a common beggar in the streets of Port-au-Prince. Life was hard for her in this country, but she tried her best to survive it. She went to school, played with friends... it was good for her as it was going to get. However, there was something her family wasn't telling her; and it was the simple fact that Claudia descended from a powerful Sorceress known as the Witch Mother. The Witch Mother was a powerful witch back in the day that terrorized both the human and mythic realms, but her reign of terror was ended when a group of heroes killed her. However, she saw her eventual death coming and cast one last spell; that her lingering power would be transferred to her female descendants. Thus, there was an immense latent power within Claudia, and it was going to remain untapped... Until the Haiti Earthquake came and she was almost crushed by a building, which was enough to activate her latent abilities when she used a blast of magic to destroy it.

Claudia was amazed, as she had no idea what she just did and as she experimented she realized her power. It was incredible, she was going to be a Wizard! It was a great turn of events since now Claudia was no longer going to be some street beggar, she was going to make a difference in the world...

... Then they showed up one night, Demons from the other side. They wanted to take Claudette to hell, as they weren't satisfied with the other Witch Mothers (and have some fun with her beforehand, of course). So Claudette ran and ran for her life, but where ever she went a horde of demons followed. She, in time, learned to fight using the magic but no matter what she did they always came back or more came.

Claudette ran from one end of the earth to the other to get away from them, she could never hang around one area for too long before they came after her (sometimes they attack her soon as she arrived)... until she ended up in Europe. She ended up in some village in Germany, where they didn't attack her for months and she allowed herself to get careless. An absolutely massive army of demons appeared and attacked the town, killing people left and right and subjugating some to a fate worse than death. They surrounded Claudette soon enough and there was little she could do to ward them off, but she was defiant to the end.

... A magician appeared with a revolver and battled the army of demons with his students and gave Claudette the fighting spirit to fight. The village was absolutely destroyed, but the man introduced himself as Graham Morris, the protector of the magic and mundane side of Germany. Claudette told him about her problem and he inducted into his wizard school in order to teach her how to use her magic constructively. The first thing he did was inform her about the true nature of her power, and how she was a descendant of the Witch Mother. Part of Graham wanted to kill Claudette, but he had a feeling that would release the demon that was the Witch Mother. Of course, he thought that using the Witch Mother's immense powers would allow him to help the world, so that's what he did.

After years upon years of training, Claudette eventually learned how to channel her immense magical ki in a particular field... life. In the ultimate insult to the tyranny of the Witch Mother, Claudette learned to turn the darkness into plants. Claudette created her own fighting style revolving around plants, but Graham told her that she was only diluting her true power. Claudette was afraid of the power, but she learned to channel the darkness in small amounts and mixed it in with her plants. Along with spending ages reading books on the secret history of humanity, the mythic, and so on.

It was the best time of Claudette's life, but it wasn't long before the demons attacked yet again. They came in absolutely drowning numbers and attacked Graham's school, and in result, a truly massive battle occurred between the two groups so large that other Nomads and Demons were drawn to it. Claudette fought for her life and killed as many demons as possible but in the end... Graham was killed, the school was destroyed, and there was nothing less for Claudette. She cried tears in the rain as she felt lust for revenge, she finally had enough of the demons. So she decided to take the fight to them and opened the gates to hell itself as she stepped inside.

Hell was something else, but Claudette cut her way through every demon, every monster, and anything else that got in her way as she went to the Witch Mother's soul in hell. Confronting her ancestor, the Witch Mother told Claudette that she was the key to regaining her lost power in the world and was convincing the demons to get her into hell so she could occupy her body. Seeing that she was finally in hell, she tried to take over Claudette's body but the sorceress had another plan. She absorbed the Witch Mother's soul into herself and sealed it within, taking the last bits of her power but also breaking her control over the demons. However, she didn't realize it but the darkness inside of herself grew to immense levels, and anyone with a great connection over ki could sense it.

She returned home, unsure of what to do next. She decided to open her own demon hunting firm where she kills demons and other mythic threats for the right price. It was a rather popular business, but she eventually attracted the attention of MAVERICK who wanted a specialist in the magical arts. With nothing better to do and a job with dental, she decided to join MAVERICK and became their go-to pick when it comes to mythic or the magical.

Claudette took on the codename "Witch Mother" in an attempt to redeem the name.

Claudette is a magician that specializes in plant-based combat with hints of darkness. Claudette is purely a magician that focuses on keeping her opponent away with projectiles and using various defensive techniques to keep herself safe and make it difficult for the opponent to get in on her. In some of her attacks, she uses darkness which has an effect once it comes in contact with an opponent; it'll remain on them for a few moments before it disappears unless she uses another darkness attack on them. Which will cause a chain reaction that'll end in an explosion. Hand to hand-wise, Claudette has been lightly trained and uses basic punches and kicks in her attacks but they're so weak that they'd be unlikely to really take down a Nomad alone. So she infuses plants and darkness to make her attacks stronger.

Let's just get this out of the way; Claudette isn't a melee fighter. She has a few moves, but nothing that really holds a candle to a dedicated Nomad. She'd get her ass kicked if she couldn't get an opponent away from her. Claudette is also a zoner, but a very slow one that requires time to get set up and could easily be rushed by a quick opponent.

Lucie Bardot stands at an average 5'6'', with an athletic build to match her military training. Her light brown hair, which could almost be mistaken for grey, goes down to her shoulders, and compliments her actual grey eyes quite nicely. Her complexion is fair, white but not overly pale.

Lucie's typical outfit depends on context, but her everyday wear is a mix of her MAVERICK uniform on top of street clothes. She has a grey dress with black leggings, covered with her MAVERICK jacket. There is a box of ammo and grenades at her side, and a headset she wears to both communicate and receive orders. Her boots are styled to look a bit like oversized sneakers, and she wears kneepads over her leggings. To complete her outfit is a black bandana, worn as a scarf normally but pulled up in battle

Highly competitive; hates losing
Musically inclined
Desperately wants to be liked and to be a hero
Introverted by nature but tries to be extroverted
Easily irritated
Habitually lonely
Extremely insecure

Lucie Bardot was born in Roche, Lower Normandy, a small suburb outside of Caen. Her father, Matthieu, was a veteran of the Gulf War, while her mother, Elodie, was an amateur boxer who was once a nomad with the with the nom de geurre of Bellonia. With two martial-inclined parents, Lucie and her elder sister Genevieve were both encouraged from a young age to take up martial arts and other physical activities, such as soccer. Lucie, despite being the younger sister, was clearly outclassing her in physical accomplishments, which was fun at first but quickly grew old. Both sisters had a competitive streak that was encouraged by their parents, which only frustrated Genevieve more as Lucie continued to excel in heights that she could never reach. Lucie, on the other hand, started to explore other pursuits other than necessarily fighting, particularly in music making. She started to pick up the bass guitar, learned how to sing, and formed a garage band with her friends, dubbed "Les Loups de Fenrir". All of this was much more fulfilling than constantly training her body like her parents wanted her to do. However, Lucie was simply too insecure, afraid of letting her parents down, and tried to keep it on the downlow rather than confronting them about it.

Eventually, Genevieve would pursue a career in the French Navy after graduating from lycée, following a similar career path to her father. Her parents were very determined to get their star pupil on the same track. Secretly, all Lucie really wanted to do was to go to university and get a degree in music theory, but she was, again, too afraid to make her true desires known. Her parents saw great potential in her, and pushed to pursue the initial trials to enlist in GIGN, the elite counterterrorist police tasks force in France. On Lucie's end, going into police work was, to her, more agreeable than the military; at least she could say she was protecting France by stopping awful people in their tracks, rather than just being a tool to be shipped out overseas for god knows what reason. When she did her preliminary screening physical, the doctor noticed that Lucie had some sort of rare mutation that caused her body to generate more ki than the average untrained human, which was the source of her heightened physical characteristics. This brought the attention of the United Nations, who saw her as a perfect candidate for their international anti-nomad counterterrorist force, MAVERICK. Some political maneuvering happened behind the scenes, and before fully finishing training for GIGN, Lucie was informed that she was being "loaned" out to MAVERICK as per an an agreement with France. In all practical terms, she was now answering to New York rather than to Paris...

The best way to describe Lucie's fighting style is that she doesn't have one. While she was trained in order to deal with Nomadic threats in combat, it never actually involved learning how to fight with ki. Like with many other recruits for MAVERICK with no prior nomad experience, it was simply easier, faster, and more effective to only train physically up to a point where the Frenchwoman can keep up with Nomads in a fight and not get completely overpowered. From there, Lucie would rely on cutting-edge technology to fight any Nomadic terrorists.

The secret resides in special ki-enfused bullets. These are specially designed rounds, which allow for bullets to more readily penetrate the innate defenses nomads have against projectiles, making them more in-line with the intended lethality to a regular person. However, ki-enfused bullets are not perfect; they can never perfectly negate the defenses of ki due to the nature of ki itself. The end result is that it can still take multiple shots to even just incapacitate a higher powered nomad.

Beyond her gun, Lucie is also equipped with an arsenal of grenades, which she keeps with her in a pouch that hangs to her side. These explosives serve various different tactical roles, and can range from mundane fragmentation grenades to highly specialized, experimental ordinance. Finally, when things truly go south, Lucie can deploy Asterix, her combat robot, to provide heavy support fire.

Take away the gun and the bombs and she is essentially powerless against any nomad-level threat. She has no ki techniques at all, projectile or otherwise. The grenades are all AoE, and can easily hurt herself if she is caught in the blast radius, so she can only use them at a reasonable distance away from her. The FAMAS is a bullet chugger, particularly if left on full-auto, and thus needs to reload often. This can be an opportunity for foes to catch in.

Lucie is still competently trained in a fist to fist fight, as per to her military training. However, she lacks the raw ki power to fight offensively with her fists against another nomad, and will most likely lose even to the weakest nomad in fistcuffs, if it came down to it