~ZYIRCK~

It was hard waking up today. Zyrick hadn't felt this uneasy since his recruit days, going on his first assignments. Zyrick woke with a knot in his stomach knowing he was to venture out into the battlefield for god knows how long. He drank a countless number of cups of water before finally coming to terms with what was about to be his life. I guess I'll just have to deal with it when the time comes... He went about his day like it was any other day doing his daily routine. Since being on an L.O.A. he hasn't been up to much in terms of doing things with his time. Cleaning the house for a bit, Reading the paper, throwing out all the perishable food he has. He was slowly but surely preparing for this, possibly last, mission. His time was coming up, Soon he would set off towards the North gate and rendezvous with the rest of this so-called, specialized squad.
Looking up at the sky while making his way to the northern gate made him a bit sad. Leaving behind his neighbourhood on a day like this, not knowing when he will be back. Overcast shadowed the buildings and streets giving a grey tone to everything. "I pray it doesn't start to rain as soon as we leave..." Zyrick mumbles to himself as he holds on tightly to the standing pole on the train. He gets off at his stop, just a few blocks from the northern gate, and heads off. He pulls out a small pocket watch and checks the time, about 20 minutes give or take before they open the gate to let in the spirit users. About 20 minutes give or take before they let out Zyrick and the specialized squad he is apart of.
Making it to the gate, he can see the man who operates the gate gave him a glance over, whisper a few words to each other and then look at a small piece of paper they managed to pull from their pockets. Zyrick stares at them, waiting for them to call him over or shout something stupid to him about his clothing. Instead, they give him an approving look and usher him over. Without a single word, they hand him a small wax sealed letter that carries the miliary's emblem. The Gate operator leans in towards Zyrick and says in a very hushed tone, "Don't open it until you have left."

"Of course."

Zyrick takes the letter and finds a seat at a nearby bench and waits...

It was late in one of Honorfire’s less than stellar neighborhoods and music echoed out of a disreputable looking bar and into the worn streets around. The music swelled as the door crashed open as a fellow slammed through it and tumbled onto the sidewalk, coming to rest in a pile of refuse. While certainly still alive, it was plain he wouldn’t be moving under his own power for sometime. A silhouette filled the doorway, as Aden Chernus stood there with a triumphant smirk as she straightened her marginally ruffled shirt.

“Was that really necessary, Aden?” A voice asked over the dull murmur of voices as she turned back inside, closing the door as she did. ”Hey, it’s not like I killed him.” She replied, heading towards the bar. The bartender, who’d questioned her just shook her head as she poured a drink for another customer. ”Y’ could ’ve just said y’ were a Hunter, I mean, don’t you lot get some sort of crest to prove that? I’m sure if you’d pulled that out he’d ‘ve apologized..maybe even bout you a drink.” ”Maybe Sheena, maybe.” Aden replied, reclaiming her drink from where she’d set it on the bar. ”On the other hand, he was talking shit and you know I couldn’t let that pass.”

Sheena, the owner and sole barkeep of the Honor’s End, a rough and tumble dive bar built right against Honorfire's outer wall, just shook her head and rolled her eyes. Aden was a long time regular, and unlike many of the others, she paid her tabs. ”So,” She said, starting to wipe down the bar. ”Where you off to? You’re only this ‘fighty’ just before you head out.” Aden laughed and downed her third, or was it fifth, beer of the night. ”Oh, it’s a bad sign when your barkeep knows you so well.” They both shared a chuckle, before Aden got a little serious. ”Nothing too major,” She lied. It bothered her a bit, lying to someone she did actually consider a friend, but it was what it was. ”Just a patrol to the city’s southeast…rumor of a concentration of demons, so we’re gonna do a little scouting.” Sheena blanched a bit at her words. ”Hey don’t worry,” Aden said with a grin. ”My tabs all paid up after all!” Despite her obvious worry, Sheea laughed and reached out to cuff Aden in the shoulder. ”Very funny you ass, but seriously, do stay safe.” ”Always.”



Aden yawned and grimaced as the hangover pecked at her. ”Laugh it up you ass.” She muttered to the human-shaped silvery figure ‘walking’ beside her. Gamas never spoke, but she could sense what it was thinking or saying, and right now it was most amused. Reaching the North Gate, she spotted what could only be another Hunter; the only other people nearby were the on duty guards, and civilians tended to avoid the areas near the gates when at all possible.

”Yo,” She said by way of a greeting. Propping herself against a wall, she did a once over of what little gear she was carrying, before taking the scattergun, which had been slung over a shoulder, and ‘racking’ it to load a shell. Then with deft and practiced hands, she slowly pulled the bolt open again. This time she re-seated the shot she’d just loaded, before tucking another round taken from her gear, under the bolt and onto the lifter. That done, she eased to bolt forwards before flipping the gun upside down and feeding a new shell into the magazine tube. All loaded up, she captured the gun’s hammer under her thumb and pulled the trigger, easing the hammer down once it released.

All that done, she dropped onto the bench beside Zyrick with another yawn. Gamas stood in front of the man and seemed to be studying him.

---

All could Ridley see is fire. She just stood there, watching. watching her house, the place that she play pretend, the place where she was grow in, the place where Ridley and her father lived...is now burning down.

Ridley look down at her hands, her hands are cover in blood, her sleeping gown is also cover in blood as well but not as much. Ridley doesn't understand what happened, she was just in the kitchen with father and everything and then here she is, standing in front of her burning house. She want to scream in horror, she want to cry, she want to yell "Where my daddy?!" in distressed but she didn't, All she can do is watch and say nothing, not a scream, not a cry, not even a yell, she just say and feel nothing.

When neighbors have finally come out of their houses to see what is happened, all of them run toward the scene to try to take out the fire while others try to comfort young Ridley. one drop of rain fell on Ridley face and then it start pouring in finally take out the fire, all neighbors starting asking the young girl questions but all could Ridley hear was nothing, everything was ringing. Ridley neighbor, the old lady that lives cross of her house, put her hand on Ridley shoulder, finally snapping out and hearing things again, she look at the old lady "Honey, where is your father?" she say in a worry tone. Ridley haven't yet to say anything but she can move. She rise your arm and point at the destroy house and to everyone horror, they understand the little girl....Her father was inside of the burning house.

---

"Oooooooh, Are you excited for this Ridley?!" say the fire fox walking beside Ridley in town. "Just imagine, you make some new friends that you won't backstab and they try kill you, talk about your interests instead gambling, go on adventures with them instead running away from them. I think this is going to be so much fun!" the fire fox say cheerfully "....Crevan, are you saying that war is fun?" Ridley ask Crevan, this is not some kind of field trip, this is war that Ridley and Crevan are going to, she is just hoping that they won't die. "Oh.....I totally forgot about that part, Hehehe" Crevan giggle, Ridley just chuckle at them, sure they are annoying at times but at least they are great to be around.

Ridley and Crevan finally made it to the gate and see two other spirit users, Crevan fake cough at Ridley "Go on, say hello to them." With deep breath, Ridley walk towards the two strangers "Uh....Hi" Ridley say to them. After a awkward silence while standing, Ridley finally sit down right next to them, Crevan sit right next to their user "Great start so far" they say while giving Ridley two thumbs up.

“What a fucking nuisance,” came a small groan from an equally small individual. The shape of his humble home was nothing to consider impressive, with little more than a living room attached to a minuscule kitchen. At the very least, one could commend the young man on his cleanliness, considering the eternal nineteen-year-old mature enough to maintain a reasonable outlook on his abode. Artemis crumpled the letter in his hand and dropped the parchment into a metal cup. What followed were the embers of a matchstick, complying with the instructions he had been given.

“It is an honorable assignment, Artemis,” a ghostly voice trickled through the boy’s mind, before a shape manifested itself before him. It was a shame, indeed, that none could witness the beauty of Angelicus, a spirit embodying the very concept of valor and chivalry. “You ought to make your way towards the gates. Do not cause your companions to linger, on your behalf.”

Rolling his eyes, Artemis reached for a pair of cargo shorts which he proceeded to slide onto slender legs, followed by a t-shirt to cover his scrawny torso. Truly, the gear of a noble warrior. “Dude,” the boy spoke, lowering himself to the floor as he began to tug his shoes on, “they likely don’t give a shit whether I’m there, or not.” Artemis wrapped a set of dainty fingers around his trusty sword, a shorter blade that functioned perfectly with the size of its wielder. He clasped the buckle around his waist and reached for a small round shield which had kept him safe since even the days before valor followed him closely.

“Mind your language,” the ghostly entity returned, a soft sigh leaving its inhuman visage, “whether your companions' desires maintain a want for your presence is irrelevant. You have a duty, and that supersedes an emotional response.”

With a moment of silence, Artemis raised a brow at his closest friend and ally. Angelicus was a wise entity, without fault, a creature of ancient worth. Though the boy had asked his spirit of a past long since brushed aside, Angelicus maintained that previous chapters of his existence were unimportant. He would have been right, of course, but curiosity lingered within the boy now bound to this ghostly entity.

With a hand on the doorknob, Artemis stepped out of his small apartment before starting down the stone steps in an empty stairwell. Battle, war, blood, and endless conflict did not bother the boy as much as it probably should have. Indeed, there were those fearing for their lives on the daily, those who embraced their loved ones in a desperate attempt to freeze time, if for just a moment, before being forced into the abyssal maw of the Badlands. Artemis did not fall into any of these categories. He was a lonely boy, and of that, there were no lies. Only Angelicus lingered at the young man’s side, and the spirit’s presence offered the boy an ability that Artemis had no control over. The very same ability which removed his worry, and rather replaced it with a desire to fight, or die in the process.

With a long distance traveled, and the lighting of a cigarette, an exasperated sigh escaped Artemis’ lips, along with a puff of smoke, following suit. Before him, there were three other spirit users, each one a sight to behold. However, the boy did not linger and rather approached the bench before dropping to the ground next to it. “‘Sup?” Came a quiet greeting, with all the enthusiasm of apathy, where Artemis leaned against the wall in a lazy fashion. He adjusted the beanie atop his head, preventing a messy mop of raven black bangs from covering a set of large, obsidian eyes. It was time to get going.

---

Sebby would yawn and stretch out of his bed. Being born into poverty, he would still live with his family through his years of training, and was waiting for a field experience to come up. He would pull a baggy shirt over his head, and tie it above his belly button. He stretches his slim frame and looks at a bundle of chains that would be resting on the floor. "Hey, Hold the Line, it's time." His voice would be quiet and warm.

The pile of chains would rattle and shift, forming a nine legged shape with maces and chain whips. This was his spirit's visual form. "Okay lovely." she would say to her host with the closest thing to a smile a pile of chains could muster. Never in his life has he met another spirit user, so he was only partly familiar with the rules of being one. He would apply a small amount of makeup to cover his blemishes he despised. He never really ever looked like a boy, but he still says he is one. He would look at the door to his room. It was early in the morning, no one was awake. "I'll miss you guys. Sorry for leaving this way." He would gently touch his shirt and hold the skirt he was wearing down, a sure sign of nervousness and worry. Sebby would then exist his house and use his chains to scale buildings and find a short exit to the northern gate.


He would marvel at the gate, surprised that the government has chosen a rookie like him for a big league assignment like this one. "Here we are Sebby, the Northern Gate, entrance into the Badlands." "Will you lend me your power? Sure you rested well enough?" "My power is yours. I have slept a seven fold of what is necessary. I am more than prepared." She would gather around his neck, knowing that she is weightless, her being a spirit. "Let's go." The gate would slowly come into the distance for them, and he would walk closer, amazed by the attention to detail of the gate. In all his years of life, he had not gone out this far. He would admire the beautiful mountains and smile blissfully. "It's so beautiful!" His face would be warm with wonder and curiosity. Maybe even a trace of worry.



"Sebby, there are people over there!" She would point her chain in the direction of the four individuals. Suddenly Dawn's cheeks would flush red. "What's wrong?..." She would notice his embarrassment confused. "Shit, I completely forgot I was working with others. I'm still a guy Hold the Line... What if they make fun of me... y'know. Being me?" He asked his companion nervously. "It'll be okay honey... Just go up and introduce yourself. I doubt they'll even know you're a boy at first!" Sebby would nod, hold his skirt down and run to the four at the bench, and smile nervously. "H-hi everyone. Sorry I'm late. Woke up slowly..." A very tiny (seemingly) girl approached the few with a large rifle on their back.

~ZYRICK~

Zyrick's eyes darted across the Northern gate several times, it was truly a sight to behold. If only it wasn't used to keep out demons and other unwanted guests maybe this gate would be a popular attraction. Maybe all the gates would be. It was almost sad that such beautiful architecture would be in such an open view yet have such a menacing presence. This type of thinking would hold Zyrick's attention for only so long before he would get bored. He was planning on sitting there silently, waiting for the other spirit users to show up. Having no idea what to expect of these spirit users it came to be a pleasant surprise when one happened to sit next to him seemingly coming out of nowhere. He watched her with a flat expression on his face as she approached. Zyrick wasn't big into guns, he was trained in the army to use and manage one but it just wasn't his forte. But this girl, just by the way she holds and handles it, he could tell she was proficient with it.

Zyrick's lips opened slightly, taking in a breath before speaking. His hand lifted with his index finger extended. Before he could manage to say anything, another person sat with them, clearly another spirit user. Slowly, one by one, more users came along reaching five in total. "This is the group huh?" Mashii's voice appearing from behind the bench. "I didn't expect it to be so...quirky." Mashii strutted out from behind the bench, showing his animalistic form for the first time today. Zyrick's eyes beamed at his bonded spirit, giving him the 'be nice or die' kind of look. Zyrick watched as Mashii turned up his snout before walking around the group paying close attention to the equipment of the other users. It was only natural that the spirit of production would be interested in the construction of different pieces of equipment.

"So I guess this is the group...By my time, the gate should be opening any minute now. Unless we get some last-minute stragglers I think the five of us will be it." Zyrick said, monotone throughout. It was quite exciting for Zyrick, he's only worked with one other spirit user before and that was just for training. He was told he needed more time before going into the badlands, but it would seem they may have lied.

After some time, The guards started moving in a hurried position lining up on either side of the gate, creating something of a walk-way for when the gate opens. The gates made an unpleasant creaking noise when opening, most likely because of their monstrous weight, zyrick scrunching up his face at the sound. The gates stopped moving when they were about halfway open, leaving enough room for a few carts to roll in from the badlands. The drivers being nothing more than labourers. Following the carts was a man clad in armour, a spirit user, who paid nearly no attention to Zyrick, not that he cared for attention but it was something to note. After that display, the guard who previously gave Zyrick a letter, looked his way. No words or gesture just a mear glance in Zyricks direction.

"Well..." Zyrick looked at the others, "Shall we be off then?"

“You best abandon that habit, Artemis,” Angelicus’ voice echoed throughout the boy’s mind, where a pair of slender fingers gently pinched the cigarette between Artemis’ lips. Removing the small, paper cylinder from his mouth, the soldier exhaled a long, smoky breath.

“It’s not like I’ve got my health to worry about,” Artemis returned and rose to his feet. He was an experienced young man, and he had seen war in frequent repetition. This was nothing new for him, but a quick analysis of his team left the young soldier wanting. This was it? One of these aspiring prospects looked like little more than a girl of fourteen winters. Of course, Artemis if anyone, should have known not to judge a book by its cover, as that very philosophy related to himself in high regards. He didn't appear older than a teenager, and was often called out on the fact by his fellow soldiers. 'Little Shit' was a nickname he had grown rather accustomed to.

However, where one of his teammates donned the appearance of a young girl, and another looked like little more than a thug, which Artemis could relate to, a dark-skinned man stood amongst them, as well. Out of the lot, he seemed the most orthodox, a position closely followed by the woman equipped with a scattergun. Two legitimate soldiers and three freaks, then? Artemis could work with that, as long as these misfits, including himself, could work together.

"Your health is of no consequence, Artemis," the spirit continued, "it is a distraction, and you are not on your own," Angelicus stated, appearing in his shape of bright, white light. A celestial knight among men.

Indeed, neither drugs nor alcohol had any effect on the boy's regenerating body, but they offered no advantage whatsoever. This also extended to performance enhancing injections. Artemis' spirit power rendered him immune to both benefits and side effects.

"Fine," the soldier rolled his eyes, and flicked the cigarette into a trashcan following its completion. He strapped the silver-colored round shield to his left forearm, and started towards the unveiled designation.

Loud sounds echoed throughout, with shrieking gates finally opening to reveal a path. One could spin tales about the Badlands and its horrors, but the vast mountains and breathtaking landscape were sights to behold. Indeed, it was as if a breathtaking painting, stretching its frames long and wide.

Even so, dangers roamed across the large, green stretch, and after his many ventures into the Battlefield, Artemis could not ignore previous experiences filling his thoughts in an unfiltered stream. Bloodshed and violence awaited them all. Hopefully this team was prepared for that. "Keep your guard up," Angelicus warned, "even you can be hurt, Artemis."

Stepping across the threshold which separated the city from a world of chaos, Artemis managed a small grin, shaking his head. "It wouldn't be fun otherwise."

"Battle is an exchange of power, and valor, but do not make the mistake of involving bloodlust," the spirit pitched in, his ghostly voice stern and assertive.

"You like seeing demons die as much as I do, Angelicus," the boy snorted, smirking at his spectral ally.

"But seeing you hurt holds no joy, so do not exchange skill for recklessness." Angelicus finished, before the knight vanished from sight. He had been the boy's mentor ever since their bond was sealed, and he would continue to maintain such a position within Artemis' life. A position the boy was thankful for.

She felt…old. Granted none of her new compatriots seemed that much younger than her, but she could tell she was the oldest one there. She watched them as the filtered in, the red-head with a chip on her shoulder, the short kid with eyes that seemed older than his face and the tiny boy with a lever-gun who was trying to pass as as a girl, and doing quite well. The only thing that’d given him away was the fact that Aden had had a chance to watch him approach from some distance, the way he moved wasn’t right; that said, Aden didn’t really care, though she questioned the practicality of the skirt.

The stoic man, who’d been there when Aden arrived, spoke of them heading out as the gate groaned open. ”Aye,” She said, standing and slinging her scattergun over a shoulder. ”Best we should be about it. Got to earn that princely sum they’re paying us.” As this played out, there was a slight twinge of jealousy in the back of her mind, because while she’d been observing the other Hunters, she’d sensed Gamas interacting with the other Spirits, something she wish she could do. At times she’d pressed her ‘friend’ for information about its kind, but it was never overly forthcoming.

As they started moving, she angled over besides the boy in girls clothes. Aden was a bit tall compared to most women, but next to this boy she felt like a giant. ”Aden,” She said conversationally, extracting a hand rolled cigar from a tin and lighting it with a battered lighter. Once it was drawing properly, she blew a stream of smoke straight up before making a motion towards the lever gun. ”You have much time with that iron? Been thinking about getting one myself.” She reached back and patted the butt of her scattergun. ”This is all well and fine, but sometimes a bit more range would be nice.”

---

Sebby was an extremely quiet soul who is not very accustomed to talking to new individuals on the spot. He would look up at the tall woman standing next to him, who had just recently spoke to him. He would take his gun off of his back and present a firearm with a well worn trigger, lever and cheekpad. He would hold it up to Aden to see, and turn it around. "Does that answer your question?" He would smile cheekily before clipping it to his back. "Been using this bad boy before I even got my spirit contract." He would stretch, putting his tiny hands into the air, and revealing a certain key factor about Dawn, he hadn't had his spirit very long. He would tail behind the group with a tint of non-visual nervousness, a fear that he hasn't been on the field long enough for a mission like this one. He would pop his knuckles and kick a bit of dirt every now and then. He looked at the soil, untainted and natural, unreached by mankind. He would cringe at the idea of how it was fertilized so well. It is demon territory after all. A certain fear would reside in the air around him. He hadn't realized the extent of how dangerous this could really be.

He would stop in his tracks, look behind him, and ponder at the open gate with a certain loss of words. He would sigh, and catch back up with the group. "Miss home already, ey?" "A little..." He would look at the group of misfits and soldiers and realized one thing: all five of them were putting their life on the line for their country. Sebby wasn't very patriotic when it came to someone living in Honorfire. He liked the place, and had no intent on leaving. He would carry his belongings and gun on his back, as he would say "I'm Dawn, by the way. Nice to meet you lot." He would produce an honest and caring smile that showed he was happy to be along side them. "I'm not usually the one to start small talk, but... I'm curious actually. What do your spirits... do, exactly? Mine uses chains, and allows me to use them too. That's the simple definition." He would take his dagger out and spin the blade quickly on the tip of his index finger. Hold the Line would continue to reside on the shoulders of Dawn as he trudged behind.


As Sebby followed the group, he would have his dagger holstered at his waist, prepared for anything. He was struggling to keep up due to him being so tiny. He would look up at the young boy who had black hair. "I assume your spirit talks to you as well. I thought I saw you talking to someone earlier." He was curious, he knew the basic rules of being a user, but had never met another one in his life until today. He was somewhat scared to make contact with Ridley and Zyirck, due to the fact that they seem on a higher level of maturity than he is. He would pick a tiny flower off of the ground, and put it in his whispy and gentle white hair. Hold the Line would be examining their surroundings, taking in all of the brand new information that was around.

Tapping slender fingers against the hilt of his sword as they walked, Artemis' tired and most certainly apathetic eyes shifted their gaze towards the sky. A bright, blue layer above their heads, with nary a cloud in sight. It would appear that some of his group had begun interacting, which was a prospect Angelicus condoned. "You should engage in conversation with your team, Artemis," the ghostly knight stated.

Not long after, did the spirit user hear the smallest member of their gathering ask a public question. It warranted a thought. This group of misfits had been haphazardly thrown together and sent into the Battlefield without knowing a single fact about one another. A small chuckle escaped Artemis' lips at the notion. This was a suicide mission, and they were all expendable. The soldier had considered this odd ever since he received the letter which caused this entire scenario to unfold. Was the government trying to get rid of them? Every moment in the Badlands with this group made it seem like little else held any merit.

"I have a hard time dying," Artemis responded, turning his attention to the young gestalt who had introduced themselves as Dawn. "That's about it," the boy managed a small sigh. However, the ability had left Artemis in situations where death spread its miasma around him, leaving the spirit user with the role of sole survivor. Friends, companions, and even a closer relationship had all perished in response to this never-ending war, but Artemis remained.

One would understand that the prospect of his ability colored the boy a recluse. The world withered around him, and yet he remained unscathed. Rather, Artemis would claim it abandonment, where reality passed him by like a flowing lake. All he could do was to sit on a rock watch the stream pass by.

"I'm Artemis," the boy introduced himself, large black eyes turning to view the miniscule creature named Dawn. It felt odd to fight next to a little girl, no matter what resided beneath.

Growing close to others was a mistake. If anything, these people would all die, and perhaps even Artemis himself. He had failed to do that enough times in the past. He gave the girl at his side another look, this time sizing her up with a raised eyebrow. "You ready for this?" Artemis asked. Dawn was a peculiar individual. Someone the swordsman was quite skeptical of.

However, seeing how Aden lit a cigar, Artemis seized the opportunity and reached a hand into his pocket. "It's gonna' get bloody," the boy stated with the same level of monotone apathy he had displayed since meeting the group. He lit the small, paper cylinder in his mouth, and exhaled a long breath.

"Dawn's spirit is in the possession of a powerful ability, Artemis," Angelicus began, the bright specter's attention fixed on Dawn's ghostly companion. "It is useful in a group such as this. Chains would offer quite the advantage.., if a bit dishonorable."

Tilting his head at Angelicus, Artemis puffed the cigarette in his mouth, "a bondage spirit," he stated, "kinky." Again, the boy spoke with the expressed enthusiasm of a broom. "That's what we would call a Utility based power, in my old group," Artemis continued. "Offers tactical advantages, and whatever."

"As well spoken as ever," Angelicus sighed, "at least you're getting along," the spirit finished. It had been difficult for Artemis to move on from the now deceased members of his old squad. However, he was constantly reminded that death walked hand in hand with every soldier. A truth none could escape.

---

Sebby would look beyond his team, seeing the area that lay ahead. This was going to be a long journey, how many people will be lost to death himself? He shook his head, forgetting the negativity. The area was beautiful, far more natural than the manmade world he used to live in, but this was all temptation. He heard the rumors and theories about the badlands. His father used to be a hated member of the army who has seen this land up close, and lost a leg because of it. He would shudder slightly, and look at his dangling compatriot, worry filling his brain. "I'm fine. Just sleepy is all. My powers don't last long if I don't sleep constantly..." Hold the Line's voice would begin to slur and drift into sleep. Dawn would smile at his spirit. He may have signed a contract that literally cost him his life, but he was happy to get a friend out of it. He would look at his new group and listen to Artemis's discussion with his spirit and Dawn. "Surprisingly enough, that's not the first time I heard that my spirit was 'kinky'. The people at registration joked about it too." He would chuckle lightly. "Also, your spirit sounds very powerful. Sometimes I marvel at the abilities others possess, but Hold the Line is my ace in the hole. She's really a blessing." He seems to enjoy a light boast. She smiles a brilliant white wide smile that shows a sense of pride that he has for himself.

For being a scrawny shortcake, he was managing to keep up well with the towering giants of a team. He would adjust his bag over his shoulders and pull out a canteen, which he would take a tiny sip of. He was sweating off almost every ounce of water in his system. He would continue spinning a dagger on his fingertips, as he looked at his group. "It's uh- it's funny how we're one of the first groups sent out like this. Wouldn't they usually send a group of trained spirit users who are veterans" His eyes would shift to the two oldest individuals who looked war hardened, Eden and Zyirick. "Just a thought, but I haven't been in the service for very long. I'm just barely 21."



It was cold, wet, and gloomy. A boy would open his eyes and appear hanging on a rope. His skin was bare, minus his pants. He had no clue what was happening. It smelled of mold, and old books. A young woman in a hood would come from the corner of the room. She would observe his thin frame, looking for something. "Boss, are you sure he's the prophesied one? The child of sin? He doesn't even remember his own name!"

"More than positive, Mari. He bears the mark of falsehood in his eyes. He does not remember who he is, because he forced himself to forget in order to prevent the leaking of where Satan himself hides. I know they have conversed. I know it!"

They have not noted that he were awake yet. He would look at them, and then the room, and begin to panic. "W-where am I?! Where?"

"Oh goodie! You're awake, child. You've been asleep for quiet a while. Four nights in counting." He would wear a fake smile before clearing his throat. "Bring it Mari." The assistant would exit the room in a nod, and return baring a piece of old parchment and a quill. "Now, small one. You are 19 years of age. In your 'past life', you slaughtered multiple people. We realize that -ahem- you were 'controlled' by Lucifer himself, but you know that sinners belong in the badlands. Everyone. Everyone belongs there, but you, child, can fight your curse."

The boy would continue to pant and struggle against the ropes. His wrists were burning, and his stomach was aching. Tears would roll down his face, from confusion, and fear. "Seal the contract Mari, quickly. Forge his name. His... new one." The servant would jab a syringe into his leg and extract enough blood to feed a swarm of mosquitoes. The boy would shriek in pain and cry out for someone to help him. No one came. "It shall not hurt much longer... just let the contract do its business" Mari would write the boy's name in his own blood, copying his handwriting from his old schoolbag. The contract would fade out of existence. Nothing would happen

"What the hell, Mari!? You told me it would work!"

"It does maybe it jus-"

A sharpened edge of a blade would pierce through her chest, causing blood to spill on the ground. "Die, die, die! You shall all perish for your sins!!" A female voice would resonate within the boy's head. There was a shriek from the servant, as she was stabbed repeatedly from the sharp blade. Another chain would wrap around the man's neck, and snap it like it were nothing.

After the death of the two, the hanging boy was approached by a pile of chains. "Please don't hurt me!" He would whimper in fear. The "monster" would slash the rope halfway and the boy would fall on his feet, and look around. He would stare at the chains in fear, wondering what they would do to him "S-stop!"

"Shh... I won't hurt you." The chains would seemingly look at the boy. Trying to comfort him, she would try to caress his face. He felt nothing. "I am here, only to protect you, Sebastian..."

~ZYRICK~

A smirk would slowly start to creep across his face, a shake of his head and this small smirk would disappear. He turned his head towards Dawn, the small girl. He sized her up out of the corner of his eye, trying to make some kind of judgment on who she is or how she will act. Zyrick judges everyone on first sight, something he has already done with every other spirit user here. He isn't going to treat anybody differently but there is no doubt he already has his own thoughts on everyone here. There are only five of them so even though he judged them for how they are at face value, he understands just as well as anybody that there is always more than the surface, he must wait and see to get a real feel for these people.

His mind came back from his inner thoughts, remembering to actually listen to what people are saying around him. Zyrick piped up, no need being quiet all the time. "Veterans? Isn't it obvious?..." He paused, cleared his throat a bit. The earthy smell and fresh air tickled his throat. "Some of us may not be the most experienced, but that doesn't mean we don't fit the criteria needed to get this shit done. Maybe Honorfire needs new and imaginative perspectives on this. If I were to guess, I would say it's our potential to be great...that's what led us here. Even you." He looks directly at the small girl, "You obviously have something special about you. We all do. Maybe I'm being a little too preachy but I trust in my superior's decision."

Zyrick looked forward hoping to avoid any stares or weird looks from that little spout of his, especially from the young boy with the beanie. Artemis, was it? He mentioned his old group and realized exactly how Dawn's Spirit could benefit the whole group. It's a small thing but it tells a lot about him. There is something about Artemis that puts Zyrick on edge, maybe it's his eyes. The eyes of an old weathered soul.

In the brief silence, zyrick broke out again. "My name is Zyrick Fendrel. To answer a previous question, my spirit lets me duplicate anything I understand. I'll show you." Zyrick lazily digs at his deep pockets while trudging on through the badlands. Pulling out the letter that was given to him by the guard at the northern gate. He tore open the top corner of the letter with his teeth and pulled through, ripping off the top of the letter where the seal was. Inside the letter was an updated map of the badlands depicting mountains, valleys, rivers and other landmarks too. Unfolding to poster-sized map, he held in his right hand and concentrated. Ink, Parchment. that's about it I guess. In the blink of an eye, a perfect replica appeared in his left hand, after which a sigh escaped his lips. Zyrick looked to his new squadmates, "Who needs one?" He chimed cheekily.

He'd hope this would reopen Dawn's point to have everyone explain their spirit's gifts. It was essential to understand each other if they wanted to work as a cohesive group, he didn't need military training to know that. He passed off the second map to his squadmate and continued walking. Coming up on a dense, forested area.

Aden listened to the other talk about their Abilities, but her eyes lit up at Zyrick’s demonstration. ”Guess I should throw my two cents in now…” She chuckled, taking a drag from her little cigar. ”I’m Aden…Aden Chernus if you feel the need to be formal.” An amused snort gave her opinion on that detail. ”Truth is…I’m not totally sure what my Ability does.” For a form with no eyes, Gamas really could glower with the best of them.

”I mean,” She went on, amused by her ‘companions’ annoyance. ”My Spirit has, in it’s own way, tried to explain it to me…but…” She made a whistling noise as she waved a hand over her head. ”The Idiot Version, is that I can project a rather powerful blast of energy from my left hand here.” Holding out her left, she turned it palm up to show a tattoo on the palm of her hand. ”Gamas, my Spirit, got me to get this as it acts as a ‘focus’ the energy at whatever I point my palm at. There’s no sound or light, like someone that can use fire or lightening and such; I just raise my hand and boom target is dead, usually coughing up blood.” Lowering her hand, she flexed it a few times before letting in fall to her side.

”Armour, hide, walls…don’t matter, it’ll go right through without really leaving a mark unless I really push it. That said it’s sort of a one shot deal. Takes a lot of effort to use and can be anywhere from a few hour to a few days before I get another shot.” Reaching back, she patted the butt of her scattergun once again. ”That’s where the big iron comes it…speaking of…” She reached into a pouch on her hip and pulled out both a shot and a slug shell. ”Hey Zyrick, can you dupe something like these?”

~ZYRICK~

Zyrick holds on to a shotgun shell, between his fingers the small cartridge turns and flips around while being inspected. Zyrick takes his left hand and gently flicks the shell whilst holding it with his right. The sound that follows gives Zyrick some needed information about it, this was always the hardest part about his ability. Zyrick was paying to much attention to the shell in his hand, stumbling and swerving a bit while he walks through the badlands. Coming up on a forested area the vines and roots on the ground have become something of a nuisance, pulling and grabbing at Zyrick's unprepared feet.

"I mean, I could try. It's more complex than it looks but all I need is a basic understanding." Zyrick holds the shell in his right palm and outstretches the left. He usually does this in his head but for the sake of showing off his ability he speaks out loud, "The case, brass plated covering, layered paper shell, primer, black powder, powder wad, cushion, shot cup, lead shots."

A few more words trickled out of his mouth before coming to an end. after a short delay, a replica of the shell appeared in his left hand seemingly out of thin air. A smile crept across his stoic face, breathing a bit of life into his appearance. He duplicated it a few more times, repeating the process with the shotgun slug as well, handing-off a small handful of ammunition to Aden.

Zyrick kept it under wraps but duplicating something so complex that many times was slowly starting to exhaust him. He could make a quick recovery so long as he keeps his breathing in check and stop duplicating for a few minutes. Zyrick wouldn't be opposed to duplicating shells and slugs for Aden before a night's sleep, this would probably make his sleep better in fact. But for now he needed to be alert, in case anything was to happen to the group.

The roots beneath his feet start to grow larger as they walk closer to the forest, it would be wise to pay attention to their footing. Unlike the mostly clear view they've had up until now, the trees leave many blind spots, leaving them open for an attack from something. They were starting to make quite the distance between them and Honorfire, so the possibility of a demon attack was rising. Without unsheathing his equipment Zyrick rested his hand on the axe at his side. It's only a matter of time...