Nomi Yanimura

Valkyrie ~ Science Fiction Adventure ~ (Accepting Applications)

It never got old! The sound of the ships engines and thrusters powering down after performing a smooth docking made the hairs across the pilot's arms stand up on end every single time. Every sound this old ship made was an incredible one. The whirring of gears and the pressure of hydraulics as the landing gear deployed and took the weight of the ship. Landing upon a planet was always much more tricky then landing in a space dock, and the reason for this was gravity, but that wasn't anything Ruce Benner couldn't handle, Captain of the Valkyrie! The creak of leather covering the pilot's seat indicated that the young man had leaned back, tucking his hands behind his head and kicking his legs up and resting his feet upon the console before him, crossing one foot over the other at the ankles. A satisfied, smug look was spread across his face as his closed his eyes and nodded to himself a couple of times, the week-old stubble covering his chin scratching against the high collar of his brown leather jacket.
"Yep, tha' was the best landin' I've made without usin' the dockin' computer! Who's the best? Ruce Benner is the best, that's who!! The most handsome, the most darin', the most courageous pilot in the galaxy, Captain Ruce Benner of the Va--"
His narcissistic pep-talk was cut short by the comms crackling into life and the familiar voice of Amanda cutting through the cockpit speakers. Ruce grumbled to himself as he listened to her words, ever the eager one to get the job finished and to set feet back upon solid ground, but the Captain knew that she'd be begging to head back into the darkness of space within the week.

Stabbing the comms open button on the console to his right, the Captain replied.
"Tes, yer gargantuan pile of taxu droppin's! Yer know better then to interrupt my post-docking congratulation ceremony!!"
Ruce grumbled again and sat up in his chair, stamping both his feet against the steel cockpit floor as he dragged them off the front console, which most likely sounded through the comms.
"Fine fine, I'm on my way down. Go make sure the package is secure and if it's broken... then fuck I dunno... get some tape or somethin' and fix it!"
There was a snap and a buzz as he took his finger off the comms button. Whirling his chair around so he was facing behind him, Ruce pushed himself up to his feet and checked his holster hanging from his belt with a couple pats of his hand, through it wasn't a blaster he was searching for. Instead he pulled a long bladed dagger from the holster and span the blade about his fingers a couple of times before slashing at an imaginary adversary before him with a 'Yah!!' escaping his lips. However, at the same time as he 'yah'ed', a loud 'PSSSSSSSH!' followed by a thick cloud of coolant spraying into his face, knocking the pilot back onto his butt.
"Oh bollocks!!"
He yelped as he scrambled back up to his feet as a warning siren started to go off through the cockpit, flashing yellow lights across all panels. Quickly grabbing some nearby electrical tape, Ruce tapped up the ruptured coolant tube and sighed heavily as the sirens silenced themselves and the flashing yellow lights turned off.

Grumbling his way out of the cockpit, leaving the mess behind him for now, Ruce headed for the bunks where he washed himself off in the sink. Peering at himself in the mirror, you'd notice that Ruce Benner was a young man, no older then 30 at least. He had short dark brown hair that was usually kept brushed back with a couple small bangs hanging down over his forehead. A scar ran from the middle of his right cheek down over his jaw and half way down his neck. He loved telling the ladies the story behind that... which usually changed every time he told it. He was of average height, about 5ft 10 with a slim yet tonned build. The tight, long sleeved black shirt he wore under his brown leather jacket revealed he liked to work out. A pair of loose fitting dark blue cargo pants donned his legs with some durable black combat boots finishing the look. Winking at himself and snapping his fingers into a double pistol gesture, the Captain left the bunks and headed onward to the cargo hold, entering on the lower floor. As the sliding door slid shut behind him, the brown-eyed pilot glanced about the cargo hold, noticing it was mostly empty of deliveries and instead more full of their own belongings.
"Oi Tes, are we gonna flog any of this crap? We'd be able to take on more work if we didn't haul around everythin' we both own."
Ruce grumbled as he walked over to a pile of steel cargo crates. Approaching the small standing console beside the crates, the Captain disengaged the stabilizers and the locking magnets holding the cargo in place released.
"Oh yeah Tes tha' reminds me, contact the Zantu Expanse and let them know we've got their 'order'. They should come pick it up. We don't wanna be carryin' this through the streets."

The Chaos of Butterflies - Small Group Fantasy RP - *Still Accepting Applications*

Muffled tapping came from leather bound fingers tapping against the Sun Stone within the satchel that hung from the mage's shoulder, the brown-haired youth in deep thought all of a sudden. It would have been smartest to have fled the scene immediately, but there was something calling him back from doing so. It wasn't exactly a voice in his head or something he could feel within the ebb and flow of the arcane. It was more a gut feeling that was stopping him from leaving. Sharp green eyes glanced down to the scene that lay at his feet and as subtly turned to view one of the injured guards laying a few feet away, his eyes burning through the mage with such fury. He had to feel pity for this man, for he was only doing hos job and for all the Soldier knew, he was doing the right thing to uphold peace and security within Dalvastre. He'd have done a stellar job too if it were any other ordinary shift for him. But there were so many people who disagreed with the way that magic users, mages, witches and wizards were being handled. Becoming an Ablated was not upholding peace, it was simply adding fuel to the fire. If the mages were left alone to do their own thing in peace, there would be no need for all this. No need for a Royal Decree and no need for the Ablated. Well, that wasn't strictly true. There were a good number of mages who had gone insane from power or from listening too intently to the arcane song that weaved and coursed over everything. A few bad apples spoil the bunch, it seemed.

The green-eyed mage was snapped from his thoughts at the sound of a high-pitched whistle coming from right beside him. The young man threw his head down to witness one of the injured Soldier's had managed to pull a whistle from his attire and was blowing on it to call for help. There'd be another patrol heading this way to investigate within minutes, there could already be one just around the next corner due to a spell having been cast recently.
This has all gone wrong... I need to retreat...
The mage turned his back on the scene he created and was about to dash off into the night when that gut feeling returned, making him pause in place again. This time thought he turned his head to look over his right shoulder, his vision peering back in the general direction of the Stiltwalker's Fall. There was something going on over there, a brawl perhaps from the sounds of things but it was far too faint to be sure.
There's this feeling again... I wonder what it means? Has it something to do with those two I met in the tavern? Why those two? What could it mean?
Making sure his satchel was closed and secure, the mage headed for the side of the street and begun climbing up a pile of stocked boxes to reach the roof of the shop they belonged too. Wrapping his cloak about himself and pulling his hood down over part of his face, the mage kept himself low to try and become as invisible as possible within the darkness of the night. He slowly crept up to the spine of the roof and glanced down into the street opposite, seeing a patrol of Soldier's and Ablated surrounding the Shaven Headed Man from the tavern. Why were they stopping him? Didn't this guy have special permission to be in the city? The guards outside let him through without much investigating. Oh, perhaps they were a detachment sent to acquire him? Why did they look so threatening towards him then?

A flash of blonde from the roof opposite caught the mage's attention and he quickly glued himself against a cold, stone chimney stack to try avoid being detected. That was the blonde from the tavern and his sword... didn't look much like a sword anymore. What was he planning on doing? Back down in the street, the Alpha seemed to be very interested in something in the mage's general direction. Had it detected him?! He kept quiet for the time being and remained pressed against the chimney stack with only part of his head poking out to watch the scene in the street below. It was impossible to hide from an Alpha, but perhaps it was still detecting the spell he had cast earlier? The fire still roared from the building down the end of the street in with Taru stood, but the arcane essence from that spell would surely have vanished by now. Or could it somehow feel the presence that the Sun Stone was emitting? Within an instant, someone had called an order to kill the Shaven Headed Man in the street below and within the next instant, two of the Emperor's men were defeated, a couple flashes of steel from the Shaven Headed Man meeting their targets with such speed and accuracy that some of the stories told about him. Incredible... But it was still six on one and in the heat of the moment, one of the crossbowmen had brought their weapon up and had taken aim at the Shaven Headed Man. The 'twang' of the bolt firing from the crossbow was quickly drowned out by the ever increasing sound of flames getting closer and closer. There was metallic 'ping' and the roar of flames as a fireball from the mage thwacked the bolt away from Taru the Unkillable, casting embers a few feet across the street that died out almost immediately. The wooden and metal clatter of the bolt was heard tumbling against the cobblestone floor closer to the tavern. The mage however ducked back behind the chimney stack and prayed he'd not been noticed. He has already gotten himself into enough trouble for one evening...

The Chaos of Butterflies - Small Group Fantasy RP - *Still Accepting Applications*

Only mere moments after having cast his larger spell within the streets, did a chorus of shrieks and pained groans wash over this area of the city from both the Ablated and the Alphas. The patrols who only had regular Ablated seemed to stick to their set routes, and it was only the groups with an Alpha in tow that went off the beaten track to check up on whatever caught the Alpha's attention the most. The Alpha groups, like the one confronting the Shaven Headed Man, had two additional regular Ablated. If something piqued the interest of the regulars but not the Alpha, then the patrol moved on their way. In Taru's case, all three of these creatures were groaning and moaning, though not at him. There were still echoes of the arcane within the air and the mage himself had not long vanished from view, having ducked into an alley only seconds before Taru had emerged from the Stiltwalker's Fall. The protection of the shadows in this alley were going to do absolutely nothing to mask his presence from the Alpha. He might be invisible to the Guards and Soldiers, but the Ablated would see him as if he were a lit candle set in the middle of a darkened room. Even if the green-eyed mage cast a spell of invisibility upon himself, his own arcane aura would still be detectable by the Ablated. They'd not be going crazy over nothing at all, so the Guards would grow suspicious and investigate. Any brisk movement when invisible could potentially shatter the spell. No, it was far too great a risk. The only option was to get as far away as quickly as possible, or, create more arcane echoes to hide himself in.

Stupid! How did I not feel them approaching?!
The mage's fists were clenched tight as he dashed the length of the alley but quickly came to a walk when reaching the exit, where he poked his head out and glanced either way down the new street. There were a few civilians dotted nearby, gathered in shock and fear as they looked in the direction of the smoke rising up from the previous street. There were murmurs about hoping no one was hurt and who could have done such a thing, but they were all preoccupied with the glow from the blaze lighting up the sky to notice the cloaked and hooded figure watching them in turn. The brown-haired youth looked over his shoulder when hearing the commotion coming from where he had ran from. Was that the Shaven Headed Man? There was definitely the shrieks of an Alpha back that way and it will only be a matter of seconds before the withered creature caught the mage's scent. What was he going to do? Well firstly he needed to get his hands back upon that Sun Stone... She of the Veils only knew what torture would be subjected onto the Moustached Stranger if the Emperor's Soldiers were to get their hands on him and find such a powerful relic. Well the mage's future wasn't looking too bright either. He had already defiled the Royal Decree by casting multiple spells within a governed realm. That was a typical flaw of the young spell weaver; always leaping before he looked.

Fine, no more spells. I've got to relax and calm myself... It's hard to keep my arcane powers under control when I'm stressing out. Heh, he was right... a lit beacon indeed.
He thought to himself and smiled as he laughed within his mind. Taking another glance over his shoulder to see if the Alpha Patrol had ventured down the alley, the mage briskly walked out the alley and turned left, heading back towards the main entrance of Dalvastre. The green-eyed mage pulled his hood down and wiped a sleeve across his sweaty brow before he pulled his cloak up and tossed it over his shoulder to form a cape once more. It won't fool the Ablated, but if a patrol of Soldiers without any Ablated saw him, at least he'd look a little less suspicious. Continuing to walk down the street, he came to a large open square that housed a large water fountain. It was a little out of place in a city like this, but some of the folks who lived here had built it to try and make the city less of an eyesore. It's waters had run dry though and now it was more a dirty, worn monument. The statue adoring the centerpiece had been eroded away by both wind and weather, so whoever, or whatever it was, was unrecognizable. The mage frowned as he stared at the monument and for some reason, felt a subtle wave of guilt wash over him for leaving both Blondie and Taru the Unkillable behind. That feeling was soon brushed aside as he reminding himself he didn't know either of them and that they'd more then likely turn him into the Soldiers to save their own hides. But then he blinked as he pondered about the Shaven Headed Man. While he knew his name from the stories and rumours, he'd never seen him personally before. So... why DID he look familiar?

A blood curdling screech echoed over the rooftops from a fair distance away, spooking the mage and breaking him free of his thoughts. That was another Alpha and by the sounds of it, this one was also female and she must have come across something with extraordinary power to cause her to scream like that. The mage's heart stopped for a second before he broke out into a sprint, moving as quickly as he could in the direction of the scream. Dashing across the large square and taking the street heading north, the mage ran down the cobblestone road, doing his best to keep his balance. The Alpha was getting closer now, her screams growing louder and louder. Then came the sounds of a scuffle, armoured men shifting their weight as if they were uploading goods from a wagon. Quickly coming to a stop, the green-eyed mage poked his head around the corner to notice an Alpha Patrol. Eight Soldiers, two Ablated and one Alpha. Two guards kept an Ablated each under control and two more held back the Alpha. The remaining four were gathered around something, all of them kicking it violently. The three Ablated were going crazy, all focusing on a small object near the group of four. The object was wrapped up in some type of linen cloth and it looked damp. That was the Sun Stone and the object the four Soldiers were gathered around must have been his Moustachioed friend. This was barbaric... Why? Why was everything that had a trace of arcane about it, considered a bad thing?
I can't watch this anymore...

Moving out from the corner and into the street, the mage re-summoned his staff into his hands. Extending his left arm out before him, the mage held out his hand and gripped his fingers about an imaginary sphere. A snowflake appeared hovering over his palm that started to spin about, gaining momentum quickly as several other snowflakes spawned in, creating a miniature blizzard within his grasp. The Alpha was still focused on the wrapped up Sun Stone, that giving off a far greater arcane aura then the mage's spell. As the mage brought the tip of his staff to his palm and converted the spell into the catalyst, the Alpha lurched her head Yasuo's way and started to shriek at him. It was only when she lurched her body afterwards did she attract the Soldiers who were holding her shackles to his presence.
"Oh shit!! It's a mage!! He's casting!!"
One of the guards yelled which caused the other seven to stop and look in the same direction. Swords were drawn and crossbows were aimed, but it was too late for them.
"I'm so sorry..."
The mage whispered as he extended his right arm and pointed the staff to the center of the patrol. There was a flash followed by a loud crack of solid ice as several sharp icicles erupted out of the center of the patrol, impaling and stabbing into everyone there, including the Moustached Stranger. It was pretty much an icicle grenade going off.

Bodies fell to the floor and a couple of them groaned in agony as some of the solid ice shards had missed vitals but rendered them immobile. As the mage approached, one of the guards spat curses at him, mumbling something about tearing his head off or something. The mage wasn't listening. Instead he stopped beside the corpse of the Moustached Stranger and shook his head from side to side at the state his body was in. He had been suffering for a while. Arms were broken, knees snapped, groin crushed, head bludgeoned. If it weren't for that bloodied moustache, he'd not have recognized him. A shard of ice has struck his chest, most likely ending his suffering instantly.
"I shouldn't have let you leave... I should have been more observant... Stupid... I'm so stupid..."
The mage knelt down and closed the Moustached Man's eyes with his palm, running it down over his face.
"You can rest now. She of the Veils will take care of you."
The brown-haired man got back to his feet and turned about, collecting the Sun Stone from the ground and returning it to his satchel.

The Chaos of Butterflies - Small Group Fantasy RP - *Still Accepting Applications*

A valid passport? Yeah those were few and far between these days. If he had blurted those words out any louder, someone may well have charged in through the doors to the tavern and attacked this blond-haired man for a chance to get hold of such a valuable commodity. The green-eyed mage just watched the blonde take his own seat and silently enjoy his woman's drink. Why was a foreigner visiting this part of the world? What reason had someone like him for coming to the city of Gabriel Val M'ahr III? A mercenary? A sword-for-hire? Had he heard of the troubles this kingdom faced and wanted to try his hand at helping out? For what? Coin? Fame? Recognition? Where had he come from? There were uncharted parts of this world, places much too dangerous to explore. Could he have come from somewhere like that or simply from the next continent over? So many questions were surrounding this blond-haired stranger and the mage felt a twitch of concern for a moment, but it was soon swept away. He was posing no threat. He even said he didn't know what 'magic' was. There was no need to worry about this guy. The mage drummed his gloved fingers against the wooden table surface and lowered his eyes down to the frosted patch of wood he had caused earlier, but he found himself looking back towards the blonde, his brow lowering and his concerned peering turning more towards a prolonged scowl.

The brown-haired youth continued to watch in silence as the blond rose from his table and returned to the bar to request another drink and a room for the night. Hm, getting some sleep was a tempting thought, but there was plans in motion right now and there was no time for slumber. The mage needed to stay awake and focused. Taru the Unkillable spoke up, but his words were muffled at this distance and not all of them were heard due to them being directed to the blonde. It probably wasn't important and it would be foolish to be distracted. But the mage was distracted all of a sudden as he thought he felt something outside the tavern, something powerful and frightening. Being distracted from being distracted, the green-eyed mage blinked and looked up to see the figure of Taru the Unkillable standing at his table. Jeez this guy was huge... The Shaven Headed Man's voice was very distinct but his words were pretty vague.
'They?'
The mage thought to himself as he cocked an eyebrow at the Shaven Headed Man. His question was answered without him having to ask, but the mage scoffed and waved a hand before him dismissively, chuckling a couple of times as he shook his head from side to side.
"Look old man, if there was an Alpha out tonight, I'd have--"
The mage's pupils shrank and his face turned pale, causing the mage to stand up and dash across the tavern, knocking his table over and causing his water and dried Needle-Cap drink to smash into shards against the floor. Clambering up to the dirt stained window, the mage wiped a glove across it to reveal the outside world.
"Oh Gods no..."

There was a eerie silence in the tavern with only the wind howling through the cracks of the windows and the distant shrieking of an Alpha making any sound. It was a hideous sound, even at this distance, like someone was screaming for their life but had screamed so much already that their vocal chords were torn to shreds. The Alpha could feel something but whether it was the Sun Stone or the mage himself, Yasuo didn't know and he didn't plan to hang around to find out. He whirled back around and returned to his table quickly, picking it up and placing it back onto it's feet as he snatched his satchel from the back of his chair and slung it over his shoulder before he sprinted back across the tavern to the door, where he creaked it open a fraction and peered through the gap into the darkened street. The groaning of the Alpha was getting closer, but the mustachioed stranger would not have got too far away so it was still hard to tell which way the Alpha was heading.
I've got to get that Sun Stone back before the soldiers get it...
The green-eyed mage glanced back over his shoulder and after a second, he started to smirk.
"Hey Old Man, Blondie, you guys better get out of here pretty quick. Barkeep... It's gonna be a few extra days before you get your money, so I apologize and please bare with me a little longer!"
The mage rubbed the back of his head in slight embarrassment before he tugged up his hood, turned about and disappeared through the tavern door into the night.

Heading to the middle of the street, the mage took a couple of deep, slow breaths to calm himself. Lifting his right arm up over his head, the mage extended his fingers as if he were about to catch something, before throwing his arm down and summoning his Mage's Staff into his grip with a flash of light. It was a pretty bland staff in all honestly, about 6 ft long and appearing to resemble an ordinary shaolin jo staff with dark green cloth wrapped about either end and in the middle.
"Okay, let's light up this beacon for the Alpha; give all the Alpha's something to focus on!"
The brown-haired mage extended his left arm up over his head and spawned a sphere of flame within his palm which gave of brilliant light and cast a glow down both ways of the street. Bringing the sphere down to his staff, the mage transferred the flame onto one end where it seemed to grow in both size and brightness. Yasuo's staff was pretty much a catalyst; a booster of sorts, to power up his basic spells. Taking grip of the staff in both hands, the mage brought the weapon up over his head and span the staff about in a few full rotations before he swung it down like it were an axe. As he did this, a swirling torrent of fire spawned from the skies overhead and crashed down onto the roof of a building down the street, crushing the structure and setting it ablaze in mere seconds. The green-eyed mage turned tail and dashed as quickly as his legs could carry him away from the inferno. That ought keep the Alpha distracted for a couple of minutes until the echoes of the arcane song died down again. A couple of minutes, that was all he had. The soldiers, and perhaps even Gabriel himself, would have seen such a thing and it was only a matter of moments before the entire city was put in lockdown.

Monster of Nibelheim (Genesis vs Cloud)

There was an ominous chill to the air this day, one that had not been felt for quite some time. Not ever since the fall of Weiss the Immaculate had awoken him from his slumber deep within the Flooded Cavern. Whatever could this mean? Sharp turquoise eyes looked up towards the sky, watching as thick clouds rolled in to smother the sun and cast a large shadow across the whole of The Planet. A subtle tilt of the head allowed gravity to pull some strands of auburn hair away from those glowing eyes as said orbs remained locked onto the now cloud-covered sun. A small smirk tugged at the corner of the tall man's lips, where upon he closed his piercing eyes, slowly turning his head away from the skies and glanced down to the lifeless body that lay resting upon a worn, tattered bed.
"Didn't I tell you there was no time to slumber, Brother?"
The cool, calm voice of the SOLDIER First Class asked the motionless figure of a grey-haired man, white pants on his legs and bare chested on top. Weiss was still asleep and it seemed it would be a while before he awoke. That was fine. While there was plenty of work to be done, now was not the time for Weiss the Immaculate to return to the living. He had to rest and gather his strength. The First Class SOLDIER on the other hand, well thanks to Weiss, he was perfectly happy to go out into the world and learn of what catastrophe was approaching. After all, the world needed a new Hero, and since Sephiroth was technically no more, the job now fell to him. To Genesis Rhapsodos.

The creaking of the tall male's long trench accompanied the SOLDIER as he left the leader of DEEPGROUND to rest, their location unknown. It was better that way. News of the leader of DEEPGROUND resurfacing wouldn't go down too well with the populace. Genesis' turquoise gaze once more looked up to the skies, watching the cloud-covered sun for a couple more second, determining where he should be heading to. He brought up an arm, holding out his hand to the skies as if trying to grasp the hand of one who was invisible before him.
"When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end,
The goddess descends from the sky."
He waited and there was no answer. No sign. Slowly a frown appeared across the SOLDIER's face and he glanced over his shoulder from whence he came, but quickly returned his attention back towards the smothered sun. Something was definitely wrong. It wasn't Sephiroth... but it felt a lot like him.
The Northern Crater? ... No? Where?
Genesis lowered his head and snapped his attention off to his left, glancing west. His eyes narrowed and his hands clenched into fists, the leather gloves creaking tightly about his hands.
"A monster prowls Niblehiem..."

Pulling his left arm up to his forehead, the Crimson SOLDIER frowned, summoning his large black wing from his left shoulder. It was gorgeous to some, hideous to others. A large feathered wing, like an angel's but as black as the midnight sky, like a demon or monster of the night. Monsters... That's what Angeal once said. The nickname that Sephiroth had earned was much more fitting however. One Winged Angel. While Genesis was hardly an ideal role model for an angel, he knew in his heart that his actions and his reasoning was just, for the good of the planet. He was the new Hero in Sephiroth's place. A single beat of that large wing sent the SOLDIER First Class rocketing into the air, directly upwards. Once at a safe enough height, he turned west and rocketed towards the horizon with another large beat of that wing, black feathers falling from the extra appendage. Land soon turned to water and back to land again. The Coral Desert and Golden Saucer went by in the blink of an eye and within moments, the Crimson SOLDIER plummeted down towards Nibelhiem, the mountains, reactor and the town itself bringing back not the most pleasant of memories. It was here at after all, by Genesis' hand, that turned Sephiroth insane. His dear, dear friend. Like a comet falling from the heavens, Genesis descended into Niblehiem, beating his wing hard to come to a hovered a few feet from the ground, kicking up dust and throwing it all around him. It was nothing to be concerned over for there were no one left alive in this town.

"... This wasn't a monster... not a fiend of the plains at least."
The auburn-haired man said aloud as he crouched beside a corpse and took note of the clean slice that had taken their life and returned them to the Planet. Turquoise eyes peered up at the water tower and then examined the nearby tavern. There wasn't much damage to the buildings. It seemed most of the civilians here had been outside at the time of the attack, but there was no one left alive. Everyone had gone. Even if they were members of ShinRa, a company that the Crimson SOLDIER detested, they were still human beings at the end of the day and the SOLDIER First Class pitied them. No one deserved this fate. Genesis' attention was slowly drawn towards the Mansion on the far side of town. Once maneuvering past the slain townsfolk and the large water tower, Genesis walked the hill towards the mansion and gently pushed the gate open, closing it behind him. Heading down the Mansion path, turquoise eyes examined the bust open doors.
No claw marks, no sign of repeated battering. One blow cracked these doors open and it was done by a human...
A quick scout of both floors revealed nothing aside from the secret entrance to Hojo's Laboratory being left open and after descending the spiral stairs and passing the side room full of coffins, the Crimson SOLDIER emerged within the lab and library combined. Cautiously he entered, eyes scanning the shadows for movements but swiftly laying sight upon a figure standing before the large test tubes.

There was something awfully familiar about this figure, even if he couldn't see his face. No, they 'felt' familiar.
"I assume you're the one responsible for what's happened outside?"
He didn't need to ask. That large weapon on his back... Genesis' eyes widened slightly. That blade looked an awful lot like what Angeal once used, handed down to Zack at a later date. No, it couldn't be... He was dead... They were both dead...
"... Zack?"
Genesis cautiously asked.

The Chaos of Butterflies - Small Group Fantasy RP - *Still Accepting Applications*

Standing here, this close to 'Taru the Unkillable' actually sent a slight shiver down the young man's spine. This man was literally said to be unkillable, hense his name. Sure, it was obvious really since there would only really be one way to earn such a title, but it was the whole meaning behind that title which was what gave the brown-haired youth the chills. 'Unkillable'. Immortal. Indestructible. He looked like any other person who had seen the sharp side of a sword one too man times, but being this close, seeing how hard and deep some of those scars were, it was clear evidence that this man was no 'ordinary' person. The mage glanced down and paid close attention to the Shaven Headed Man's hands as he refilled his pipe. That was a nice pipe. Simple in design and it was often the simple designs that lasted the longest, and the green-eyed man's sharp orbs took notice of the blunt and worn patches of stone that lined the bowl of his pipe. This pipe had been well used. Keeping his eyes on Taru the Unkillable's hands, the mage was able to get a little bit more information from this guy. He had the hands of a warrior, one used to gripping all manner of weapons, but a sword was the weapon of choice. That and those meathooks themselves. They were strong hands but were capable of the finest movements. He'd make an equally skilled artist and maybe even a doctor with hands like those. Perhaps he already was?

"Mixture?"
The mage queried before he leaned in half a foot and took a slightly stronger sniff of the air, now that there was fresh 'mixture' in the pipe of the Unkillable. Yes, there was certainly a mixture of herbs in there. Root Sage, dried Needle-Cap and... there was something else in there. Something rare... possibly even illegal, but it was hard to tell with those other flavours as well as Frowthorn in the air. Standing back up straight and folding his left arm across his chest, gripping his right elbow and tapping at his chin with his right hand in thought for a moment, the brown-haired mage nodded in agreement.
"Okay sure, the mixture will do."
As he waited for a pitch to be spared, the tavern door opened again and the mage glanced over towards the newcomer, raising an eyebrow at his bright blonde hair. That's an unusual colour, certainly not often seen here in Dalvestre. He carried a foreign air about him. His clothes looked odd and as this stranger asked for drink, so was his taste in beverage. His accent was not from these parts either. Yasuo leaned back slightly and look note of the unusual weapon strapped to this stranger's back, before he leaned forth and placed both hands onto the bar top, squinting at his face.
"A big tough guy like you, ordering a woman's drink like that? Definitely a foreigner. How'd you manage to get past the city guards? I heard the Emperor was looking for real warriors."

The green-eyed youth turned back to Taru and accepted the pitch of herbs, before nodding his head in thanks and returning to his own table with the short, mustache-wearing civilian. The mage peered at blondie for a moment as he went to sit down before focusing his full attention on the herbs. Grabbing his glass of water which the barkeep had brought over, the mage plonked the pinch of herbs within, watching as the dried Needle-Cap sunk down to the bottom as the rest of the mixture floating up top. Scooping the soaked herbs out, the mage quirked an eyebrow as he wondered what the third herb could be mixed within. Settling the mixture onto the table, the mage snapped his fingers over the sodden herbs as a spark of flame danced across them in an attempt to dry them out. A second snap and a third followed before the herbs were dry enough but not set alight. Green eyes glanced up towards Taru the Unkillable and watched as he took a drag on the end of his pipe, watching the smoldering herbs grow bright inside the bowl.
"Ground Fire Berries?"
He muttered to himself and glanced down at the mixture of herbs before him. Cupping his hands around the mixture, the mage focused his attention upon the table and started to manipulate the air between his hands, reducing the temperature between his palms gradually until small specks of the herb mixture started to freeze itself to the wooden table surface. That was the Fire Berries separated. Dragging a hand across the table towards him, the mage scooped the root sage into his palm and promptly tossed it into his companion's ale.

"Drink up!"
"You know you're going to get caught one of these days, just... doing that magic stuff."
"Yeah right, have you looked around this place? The only people who come here are those who can withstand the smell of Frowthorn. That or they're too broke to go anywhere else. Anyway, shut up about me. Have you got that thing I asked for?"
The short mustached man nodded his head and took a swig of his ale, the Root Sage almost immediately taking effect... unless it was the ale? Either way, he seemed to relax and after another large mouthful, he plonked his mug down and wiped an arm across his face.
"Yeah, it wasn't easy, but here."
The stranger slid a hand inside his jerkin and pulled out a small bag, placing it onto the table. There was a very subtle aura coming off this thing. The mage frowned at it, but quickly smiled and nodded his head as he took his turn in burying a hand inside his satchel, where he pulled out an object bound in damp rags. Untying the bound linen revealed a fragment of crystal that gave of a terrific source of light and a substantial amount of heat. A Sun Stone.
"It took me a great deal of effort getting this. If you're caught with it, you'll be executed on the spot! It's incredibly dangerous and you MUST keep it bound in this linen if you want to get past the Ablated undetected."
The mustached man nodded his head in understanding and swiftly covered the Sun Stone up before tucking it into his jerkin. Finishing his drink quickly, the stranger stood up, tucked in his chair and left the tavern without another word.

The mage turned his attention onto the bag before him and untied the string that was bound across the opening. Tipping it up, out tumbled a golden key that softly jingled against the wooden table top. Beside it landed a small dark purple orb, about the size of a marble. This was a small chunk of obsidian and the mage frowned hard at it as he picked it up and held it within the palm of his right hand.
I can feel this thing absorbing my power... It's not draining me... More like it's a block, a barrier. But this should be enough for what I need.
The young man thought to himself as he picked up the key in his other hand and glanced the object over. Nodding his head and returning both items into the bag, he retied the string and buried the bag deep inside his satchel. He then picked up his glass of water and was about to take a sip when noticing the dried Needle-Cap sticking to the bottom inside. Pulling a face of disappointment, he returned the glass to the table and pushed it aside. The green-eyed youth fell into silence and casually glanced between Taru and the blonde newcomer.

The Chaos of Butterflies - Small Group Fantasy RP - *Still Accepting Applications*

The brown-haired mage had blocked out the other sounds of chatter and light conversation that spread throughout the tavern, keeping his gaze fixated on the door that lead outside. His face was expressionless, of which could be seen from behind his hands. Clearly he was concentrating on something, perhaps he was even waiting for something to happen? There didn't seem to be any air of worry or concern that seeped off him like a mist hanging over a bog. No, it was almost as if he had turned into a very lifelike statue. Only ever so subtle movements, adjusting the position of one of his elbows for example, was all that he did. It even appeared that he remained unblinking for the longest amount of time.
Come on... where are you?
The mage had no business with anyone in the tavern as it stood, even failing to recognize the Shaven Headed Man from outside the city gates earlier in the evening. It was only when the barkeep was speaking to another patron closer to the mage's side of the bar did the young man finally blink out of his staring contest with the door and turn his eyes to the right to peer towards the barkeep, a couple of his words catching the young man's attention. Watching as the barkeep made his way back over towards the Shaven Headed Man and exchanged words while pouring a fresh drink, the mention of 'pit fighter' followed by 'Taru the Unkillable' were enough to fully distract the mage from the door.

"They say that Taru the Unkillable would allow his opponent a free shot at him, for it was his way of judging the worth of his opponent."
The mage lowered his hands from before his face and placed his gloved hands upon the table neatly, folding one over the other. His eyes had lit up from earlier and his expressionless face had came back to life, a sly grin snaking it's way from ear to ear.
"Others say that to punch the body or chin of Taru the Unkillable was equivalent of slamming their fist into a sheet of iron. He apparently moved with such speed and grace that for an instant, he would vanish from his opponent's view before delivering a devastating strike, usually ending the match. Only the highly skilled and dedicated were able to either withstand the first blow or to even cause damage to Taru the Unkillable."
The mage snorted and squinted his eyes at the Shaven Headed Man, looking hard at his face and trying to read him, but this was proving most difficult. Something was tickling the back of his mind about this fellow. Yes, he had recognized him now from the main entrance of Dalvestre, but there seemed to be something more to that, something deeper. Ignoring it for the time being, the brown-haired youth glanced back to the door for a second but swiftly returned his focus to the Shaven Headed Man and the barkeep.

"Put a sock in it Yasuo. He said to keep your voice down!"
The barkeep grumbled at the boy before bowing his head slightly towards the Shaven Headed Man in apology. The mage just huffed and sat back in his chair, pushing the old creaking wooden furniture onto it's back legs where he rocked back and forth slightly, continuing to peer at 'Taru', if this even was him.
"I wonder if you really are him... and what brings you to the home city of Gabriel Val M'ahr if you truly are, 'Taru the Unkillable'?"
"That's none of your concern boy! Stop pestering my customers!"
The mage waved a hand to dismiss the barkeep and he frowned, looking back towards the door of the tavern once more. All of a sudden, the mage planted all feet of his chair back down and sat upright, alert. The door to the tavern swung open a couple of seconds later and in walked a simple looking civilian of the city, obviously no one of the higher standards. He was short, had hair he had cut himself and grew a thick mustache that hid his mouth entirely. As he lingered in the open door for a moment, the mage across the room stood up and flicked out his right arm, spreading his fingers as he waved his hand before him quickly. As he did this motion, a gust of wind blew from outside the tavern, rattling the windows and creaking the wooden walls. The door slammed shut hard, smacking this stranger in the rump which caused him to yelp and quickly waddle across the tavern to the mage's table where he sat down and tried to look as invisible as possible, to which he failed and made himself look very suspicious.

"Ouch! W-what was that for?!"
His voice was middle aged, around 40 or so, and sounded like he had been gargling razor blades instead of water this morning. The green-eyed youth said nothing as he sat back down and watched the stranger carefully, his expression one of seriousness. The stranger quickly shut up upon noticing this and he sat down in silence. He looked very uncomfortable. Waiting for the silence to break within the tavern as the other patrons returned to their drinks and conversations, the mage glanced to the bar and signaled the barkeep.
"An ale and a glass of water, please."
The mage got up from his chair and walked to the bar, tugging his 'cape' back from over his shoulder to form a cloak once more. As the barkeep turned away to get the order, grumbling under his breath about whether he'd get any money for this, the mage glanced at the Shaven Headed Man and sniffed the air about him lightly.
"Hrm... you got any spare Root Sage on you? As you can see, my friend here is a little anxious and I need him to calm down for me. I'll pay if you need money."
He asked openly, watching the pit fighter with a much more soft and gentle expression about him then what he had shown the short stranger on moments earlier.

The Chaos of Butterflies - Small Group Fantasy RP - *Still Accepting Applications*

Soft patting and the brushing down of leather was subtly mixed in with the sounds of the city as the green-eyed mage neatened himself up, adjusting the strap of his knapsack so it lay flat over his shoulder and double checking the buckle to make sure it was fastened closed. The brown leather gloves that had emerged from within the long hooded cloak then disappeared back underneath as the slender figure glanced either way down a street as he approached it. Standing still for a second and tilting his head in thought, the mage pondered the correct route to where the tavern was. There were plently to choose from dotted about the place, but this one specific place, The Stiltwalker's Fall is the one he wanted to go to.
Erm... Was it beside the stables or was it the blacksmiths?
He blinked a couple of times and came back to his senses after he heard the sound of something approaching him from behind. Side stepping out the way and glancing over his shoulder to see what it was, the young mage let out an audible sigh when seeing it were just a couple of civilians, a man and woman about 30 or so each in age.
Those accursed Ablated have made me jumpy... I have to calm down... I'll be easier to detect if I'm nervous...
Leaning back against the wall behind him, the green-eyed youth closed his eyes and took in a deep breath through his nose, holding it in for a couple seconds, before exhaling and reopening his eyes at the same time. He then continued on his way, crossing the street.

A couple of minutes passed before that familiar stench of the Frowthorn caught his attention. This was a good sign, as it meant he was close. As soon as the young man had smelt the herbs, did he now 'feel' them. It was difficult and very dangerous to explain. A lot of the civilians in this city agreed with the way Emperor Gabriel Val M’ahr III ruled his kingdom and that made being a magic user incredibly risky. Death was the less harsh a punishment if one was caught. Just look at the Ablated... They were the unlucky ones who got caught. No, it was safer not to try and explain how magic worked. Getting to safety with the main priority. Following the scent, the green-eyed mage made his way to where The Stiltwalker's Fall was located and once he arrived, the young man peered up at the sign hanging over the door and smiled to himself. It was good to see this thing again, as bizarre as it was. Making his way inside, the place was pretty barren as usual. Some familiar faces where here and others were not. The barkeep was here though and some other stranger.
Hm... The back of his head is awfully familiar.
But the mage pushed those thoughts aside as he heard the barkeep speak up, his voice projecting in the mage's direction.
"Oi, Yasuo! It's about time you showed up! You got a bar tab to pay off!"
The barkeep said with an air of annoyance to his voice. Leather padded boots creaked across the wooden planked floor as the mage walked up to the bar and brought his hand up out from under his cloak to tug back the hood of his attire.

"Yeah yeah, keep your wig on old man. Here, I got something for you."
The mage had thick brown hair, shaggy and untidily brushed back using both hands. His fringe fell down either side of his face just past his chin, framing his features. His eyes shone brighter now that they could be clearly seen, a piercing green. Tossing part of his cloak over his shoulder to create a makeshift cape, the young brown-haired man pulled the vase of fresh Flowthorn out from his garments and placed it down carefully on the bartop.
"Here you go, fresh from the Lich Marshes. That should keep the Ablated occupied for another month or so."
The barkeep was visibly frustrated. He seemed torn between accepting this as payment for the bar tab or rejecting the Frowthorn and asking for gold instead. The mage caught onto this and he smiled that innocent 'i'm a trader' smile of his and waved his hands in surrender.
"Okay okay, take the herbs and here's some gold. It's not much but it's all I can give right now."
Snapping open the buckle of his knapsack that rested upon his left hip, the mage rummaged inside before pulling out a small purse of coin, handing it to the barkeep.
"Hrmp... This isn't enough to pay off your tab."
"I am well aware of this and I'll pay you back in full and then some, if my next job pays off, alright?"
"And what exactly IS this next job, boy?"
The mage's innocent smile flashed to a smirk and he glanced at the Shaven Headed Man sitting nearby.
"Some things are best kept a secret, am I right?"

Without another word, the green-eyed youth turned his back upon the pair of them and proceeded to take a seat against the wall on the far side of the tavern, almost directly opposite the entrance. Here the mage sat down, removed his knapsack and placed both elbows onto the table, his chin burying within his hands as his sharp eyes locked themselves onto the entrance of the tavern, not shifting away from it the once.

The Chaos of Butterflies - Small Group Fantasy RP - *Still Accepting Applications*

A strong gust of wind blew down the middle of the road that lead to the main entrance of Dalvastre, catching the dirty cloaks and torn dresses of those who waited in line, almost as if the very air itself wanted to push past the queue to get within the safety of the cities walls. the nights were often cold and the creatures and wild beasts of the wilderness tended to grow more active during the darker hours. As the sun started to fall, some of the refugees started to pull out torches, using what little flint and tinder they had remaining to create light. Those closer to the entrance though were still looking hopeful for gaining entry to Dalvastre, for the sun had not completely set yet. It made you wonder, when the doors did close for the night, would the throng of people waiting out here be shorter or longer come morning? It was grim. These people were obviously trying to get away from something. It was unlikely that everyone here were simply wanting to try and start a new life or a new career. They needed safety, protection, and it was shortly going to be denied to everyone.

Near the front of the queue, sitting in the driver's seat of a small wooden carriage being pulled by a Balvull, a six legged beast that resembled a cross between a shell-less tortoise and a bison, was a young man draped head to toe in a long dark brown cloak, hood pulled up over his head. It was unclear as to whether this cloak was hiding his appearance or protecting him from the cold. Slowly the wooden cart rattled towards the front entrance as the city guard and their pet Ablated allowed refugees through one by one, jotting down their names, professions, reasons for being here and estimated length of stay.
"The damn Empire and their lists..."
The young man muttered to himself, which caused the Balvull before him to grunt and shift it's footing, the beasts muscles tugging at the leather straps and fitting that held the cart to it with little effort. Some of these beasts could grow up to the size of an elephant and were rarely seen in these parts of the world. Balvull's were not made for warfare though. While they could easily smash down a city wall by charging into it, getting a Balvull to run in the first place was next to impossible. They were heavy, cumbersome creatures they got tired quickly if made to move any faster then what they're comfortable with.
"Don't worry big guy. We're going to get in before nightfall."
The young man's voice carried an air of confidence to it, perhaps wisdom too and it clearly calmed the large beast down.

As time passed and the sun vanished behind the giant looming city, the queue of refugees spread apart to create a clear path through the middle. The cloaked man raised an eyebrow as he leaned out from the drivers seat, causing the wooden cart to creak with the shift in weight. Peering out from behind his good, a pair of sharp green eyes were seen under the hood of his cloak, peering back down the road to see a man with a shaved head riding a horse through the middle of the refugees. Who was this guy and why did he get priority over everyone else? He carried a couple weapons at his waist and his face looked like it had seen more combat then everyone else in this queue combined. It was hard to read this guy but judging from how some of the refugees were complaining as he rode past, made the cloaked man wonder if he were another lackey of the Emperor. Shifting back into his seat and returning his eyes to what was ahead of him, the cloaked man raised his reins and tugged at them to cause the Balvull to grunt deeply, sending a vibration through the chests of everyone nearby. Begrudgingly, the beast moved to the left and tugged the cart with it to clear the path for the horseman to get through. However, as the horseman reached the front of the queue and was barked at by the city guards to return to the back, the cloaked man raised an eyebrow as his suspicions of this stranger being tucked into Gabriel Val M'ahr's pocket were snuffed out. The rest of the conversation proceeded too quietly for the green-eyed man to hear, but seeing as the city gates opened up and the horseman was allowed to pass, made him wonder who he really was.

About 30 minutes had passed since the Shaven Headed Man has passed through the city gates and the cloaked man was next in line to be inspected and probably interrogated. The sun had all by disappeared by now and it was going to be a miracle if he were to be given entry at his point. There was one possibly guarantee though but it was going to be an incredible risk. As the Balvull came to a halt before the main gates, two of the city guard raised their weapons and aimed them at the beast. A third walked up to the cloaked man and peered up at him, his face plastered with suspicion.
"Name?"
The guard asked, as an aide came up beside the guard with a quill and paper. However, before the cloaked man could answer, one of the Ablated started to squirm and shake, making some horrific, lifeless groans. It seemed to be focused on the Balvull at first but soon lumbered towards the driver of the cart. The two guards at the front of the Balvull shifted position to either side of the cart and raised their weapons up at the driver, who had let go of the reins and held his hands up in defense.
"Get down off the cart now! Submit yourself peacefully and you won't be harmed. You're aware of the Royal Decree so don't do anything stupid!"
The cloaked man glanced down at the guard barking orders at him and he flashed a smile from under his hood.
"Now now good sir, there seems to be a misunderstanding. I am a simple tra--"
"Get off the cart, NOW!"
The cloaked man huffed and raised his left hand up, pointing an index finger as if asking for a minute. Turning around and reaching behind him, the 'trader' pulled out a glass vase of herbs which carried quiet the potent stench about them and tossed it down to the guard beside him, who caught it and reeled his head back to try and get away from the smell. The Ablated instantly followed the vase and lumbered towards it, almost trying to bite and headbutt the vase with furious intent. The Ablated was tugged under control by a fouth guard who held the bindings that secured the Ablated.
"Those are Frowthorn, a crucial ingredient for creating powerful healing antidotes and everyone knows that hey carry a magical aura. It's what gives them their healing powers."

After a moment of trying to regain himself from the stink of the herbs, the guard with the Frowthorn set the vase down which had continued to hold the attention of the Ablated. With a through search of the cart and of the cloaked man himself completed, the guards seemed happy enough that there was nothing wrong and allowed passage. As the large wooden gates to the city opened up and having his vase of herbs returned to him, the cloaked man whipped the reins across the rump of the Balvull which caused the beast to rumble a disapproved groan out it's throat. Slowly plodding forth, the cloaked man glanced out behind his cart to witness the city guard call a halt to entry to the city, which sparked outrage and panic among the refugees. With a sigh escaping the drivers lips, the cloaked man steered his goods and mount through the main entrance to Dalvestre and made his way for the stables. But before reaching it, the green-eyes man took a detour and steered the beast down a darkened, deserted alleyway. Coming to a halt and hopping down from the cart, the young man glanced either direction to make sure he was alone and out of sight. Confident that he was, the cloaked figure brought his arms up before him and after a short pause, he clapped his hands together. As he did so, the Balvull and the cart vanished in a cloud of smoke which lingered before him, unaffected by the breeze passing through the alleyway. Pulling his hands apart, the green-eyed man clapped them together once more that caused the smoke to condense down into a small neat pile, within which he stuck a hand and pulled out a leather knapsack, causing the smoke to blow away and vanish into nothingness.

"Risky indeed..."
The mage muttered to himself as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his cloak, slinging the knapsack over his shoulder. Making his way out of the alleyway, the young mage decided a drink was in order to calm his nerves. The Ablated were so close to catching him this time... Who knew what would have happened if they did? Heading out the alleyway, the cloaked mage made his way towards the nearest tavern... The Stiltwalker's Fall.

Nomi Yanimura's Characters

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Name: Yasuo Morimoto
Age: 26 years old
Height: 5ft 10
Weight: 147lbs
Race: Human
Class: Elemental Mage

Appearance:

Weapons: A mages staff that resembles a jo staff, used as a walking stick most of the time as not to raise suspicion. The staff has no major identifying features, making it pretty bland and plain. This is mostly so no one steals it. The staff is actually heavily enchanted to enable to it be near enough unbreakable. It can block the sharpest of blades and can withstand being smacked over the head of a very hard-headed person. About one and a half inches in width and roughly six feet in length, a pale aqua cloth is wrapped tightly about the middle and at either end, to aid in gripping and handling. The staff is a catalyst to aid Yasuo in cutting down the casting time of some of his more powerful spells and can even boost the strength of certain spells as well.

Skills and Abilities:
Elemental Manipulation - Yasuo has incredible skill over the elements, including Fire, Water, Earth, Ice, Lightning and Wind. He has the ability to cast simple spells, such as firing a ball of flame from his hands or summoning a bolt of lightning from the skies, to much more complex and destructive spells. The more powerful the spell though, the longer it will take to cast and the more taxing it will be on Yasuo's magical reserves. Using his staff as a catalyst, Yasuo can power-up some of his more regular spells into a faster, stronger variation.

Staff Specialization - The mage staff Yasuo owns isn't just used as a catalyst for his spells. While it's not his forte, he can use the staff as a weapon, swinging it about with a fair degree of agility and skill, though nothing compared to his skill over the elements.

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