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Viewing Cage

Staring across the arena, Cold Hands felt only a sense of continued peace as the gates opened. She had tried to explain to the guards that she had no intention of running. Certainly, she had no desire to fight them. They were weak and unworthy. Killing them would not have brought her closer to her goal. Besides, she could see the challenge laid out in front of her, the winding path, the red wound carved into the blood red sands of the arena by the Unfortunate Son. She accepted it. And she welcomed it.

The metal adorned man in the room with her seemed shaped for battle. There was little kindness in the work that had reforged his flesh. The guards had said little beyond threads of violence. They had said nothing of the other fated combatants. They had said nothing of her opponent.

Standing next to the other prisoner, Cold Hands kept her eyes on the arena. She wished to miss not a moment, and spoke words untouched by the growing energy of the roaring crowd, "Tell me stranger, who fights the first bout?"
Returning from my flu bout, I have wrapped up my character sheet (mostly adding adept powers and doing some quick spot checking, I didn't bother with actually calculating final PP or adept power levels since we are more RPing than going full table top, but let me know if you want me to do so).

Wildfire 2.0
Woo, a post, I'll toss up a short Cold Hands post today.
Ziska


"Hey, Ziska! Back in one piece for a change?” Marit hollered with a broad grin on her face. ”You’re awesome by the way, have I told you that? When we liberate a suitable watering hole, remind me I owe you some drinks for today. The TAG was on point."

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Marit," Ziska said, escaping Dr. Yuri's grasp in a sudden flurry of motion. Any sign of weariness or fresh pain vanished from her face in a heartbeat, as she focused all her thoughts on matters of merriment. She hadn't survived fighting off two heavier BattleMechs to die of boredom. Drinks. She wanted to drink. She wanted to party. And she wanted to...fight?

"But please, tell me more about how awesome I am, it has been too long since I received an appropriate measure of compliments, given my peerless reputation in this undoubtedly fine and heroic unit."

Matching Marit's step and avoiding the doctor's growing scowl, Ziska wrapped an arm good-naturedly over Marit's shoulder, taking small advantage in having to support less of her own weight, "Say...where is everyone else? We need some drinks to celebrate our successful mission, no?"
Yay!




Updated the character sheet now with an IC background added.

Not sure how well the in character background works, but I was feeling tired of writing a "history" style background. Made some tweaks to Nadya overall too (she's human now, less bioware for more or rather max magic + some totally responsible drug usage).


Dominika Kovač Pignatelli




A plan felt good. A plan felt right to Dom. Whatever the merits of splitting up might have been, Dom was grateful to have not one, but three tasks dangled in front of her. It was something to focus on. It was something to do. She had no tongue for prophecy, nor long education in the symbols of the faith to think too deeply about the prophecy that Lucas had offered. She believed him, of course. However, her mind shifted to pragmatic concerns. She saw a design, a blueprint like that of a great ship, faintly visible. They had to follow the design the Scion of Time had woven.

All three tasks laid before them seemed worthwhile and good. Yet Dom felt herself drawn easily. For all her training, she was still no true fighter. She did not relish the idea of facing monsters. By the same measure, she was no socialite, no student used to wandering the hallowed halls of an institution of higher learning. She had no great desire to venture into the world of academia. The choice was not hers alone though. She trusted Sara and she wished to hear her thoughts. Her Templar had as much of a right to choose as she did, experienced as she was.

Shifting in her chair, Dom turned towards Sara, speaking low, "What does your heart tell you, Sara? Where do you wish us to go?"

"I believe now, more than ever, the people need their faith strengthened. Bringing peace to lost souls is a fine duty for a scion."

"I agree! I completely agree! Let us go, let us be peacemakers," Dom said, a true smile appearing on her face as she placed a hand happily on Sara's forearm, practically jumping with excitement.

Offering an apologetic cough, as she summoned a more serious posture, Dom addressed the gathered Scions and Templars once again, "We will travel with the Scion of Air and her Templar to Croia. To restore the peace and convince the spirits to return to their well-earned rest is a fine task. I am not so talented in the matter of gifts as Her Holiness Hollyhock, but I am told I am quite the listener. And none can doubt Dame Sara's faith. Such strong faith will no doubt be vital when parleying with the spirits."
Yeah, rl stuff always comes first, I am always committed when I am in, so no worries.
Cold Hands will get to watch the fights, which may involve some foreshadowing.


Cold Hands is ready to watch with great judgment.
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