Yankee

Expedition to Isekai

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When he first noticed it Masato stuck his hand out to stop Oros, who was behind him, from going any further or making noise. He moved to kneel, squinting ahead.

...a turtle?

Or something like a turtle, anyway. On it's back was not a shell exactly. To Masato it sort of looked like water-eaten rock. Or like the ground after turning over a dead stump. Either way it would serve the same purpose as a shell if it could pull its legs and head underneath the chalky-rock's protection.

Kneeling there Masato quietly considered his options. There were tons of ways to kill a normal turtle, but he didn't think they'd be able to crush this one or tear it from its 'shell' given its size, even with super strength. Of course it would probably die if he just pierced its brain or neck.

There were yet other things to consider too. How dangerous would this thing be? He'd heard about people getting fingers and toes bit off by regular snapping turtles. At this size, could the monster turtle easily cleave off one of their arms or legs? He knew turtles were a lot faster than they seemed, so he couldn't assume this one would be slow. And if they did kill it, could they eat it? If it was more like a tortoise rather than a snapping turtle, he had no clue if it would be edible. Probably? And if it was, would cutting its armor away from its body prove too difficult a task? Should they try and drag it back just to cut its limbs off and leave the rest of it to rot? How would they even cut it up in the first place if its skin was tougher than the wolf monsters? Maybe the Awakened could try and crack the carapace all together and use it, but was the craggy thing on its back actually part of it or just sediment that had gotten attached to it somehow?

Questions, questions. Masato didn't speak a word while he thought about them, and he did not ask for Oros' opinion. The turtle was slightly out of sight now, but he could still hear its footsteps so it hadn't gone far. One top of everything else, there was also the girl behind him. What was he going to do with her if she had some kind of death wish?

"...okay," he said eventually, keeping his voice low. For all his thinking, he was frustrated that he couldn't come up with any real answers. At first impression, this monster didn't seem as bad as the predators they'd faced already, so his decision amounted to "fuck it, let's try killing that thing." And as for Oros... Masato glanced at her. He pointed in the direction the turtle was.

"We're going to try and hunt that. I want you to go around, like the other side of it." He moved his finger so it traced a wide arc towards where he assumed the thing was presently. "I'll come up from this side. And remember what Ryuugasaki said. Once you're close enough, just... go off, I guess. Try and stun it, or drive it toward me."

Needless to say, the student council president would be holding on to the single spear they had. Honestly, Masato wasn't expecting the quick plan to go smoothly. Oros was as much bait to see what the turtle would do as she was an actual participant. Of course that was assuming that she went along with it, being an unknown variable as she was.

______________________________________________________________________
_@Nakushita

Expedition to Isekai

______________________________________________________________________

Todokawa... Oros being the volunteer he asked for wasn't exactly Masato's first choice, but after a few seconds of staring blankly at her Masato realized that this could work. She was, if nothing else, one of the Awakened. She would be useful for her enhanced strength alone. And perhaps he could skip to one of the later items on his mental to-do list if he was alone with her.

He gave Oros a short nod, consenting to her coming along. He accepted the spear Ryuugasaki gave him, and her words of advice. Finally before setting out he thanked Kondo. Masato could never feel completely comfortable with leaving something important in someone else's hands, but if it was Kondo and Hoshino, they'd manage.

Besides Oros' parting remark to Ryuugasaki, she and Masato left with quietly. Their trek through the woods was just as quiet. Masato had thought he would be listening to the girl's inane rambling the entire time, so her silence came as a present surprise. With more focus afforded to them, the two of them set a quick pace.

They'd set out from the lakeside camp in the opposite direction that they'd initially come from. There was more of the unknown the way they were going, which was part of the mission - hunt and clear out anything dangerous. Oros had mentioned something about finding Kanamori, but honestly Masato wasn't optimistic of their chances of that. Kanamori's facsimile made her far faster than any of them - maybe any living thing in general. She could have put miles between them, if she'd wanted to.

As they walked, Masato periodically stripped pieces of bark from trees. Hopefully that would be enough to "trailblaze" back if they really did get lost? He'd noticed some other kinds of marks on the trees higher up, but he mostly disregarded them. They were only a reminder to look up every once in a while and make sure nothing dangerous lurked above them. He had no intention of trying to follow monkeys or squirrels up there.

It was during the latest of these quick making of marks that Masato's nose wrinkled. It was an unpleasant smell, but just one of many the class had endured over the last couple of days. He glanced in the direction it came from, saw the tree and realized it was on the fresher side. He couldn't help but let a stray thought of its grossness cross his mind even as he turned away, checking to see which direction the thing had gone in.

Which is when Oros spoke up for the first time since they'd left. Masato hadn't said anything to her either, and the sudden break in the silence was almost startling.

'Wouldn't recommend' was right. Crossroads, dilemma, what? Ah, she meant the option of chasing down the animals in the trees. He opened his mouth to refute that idea, when she offered him a third one.

Masato stared at her in shock, his eyes wide. Was she mocking him, or did she actually think he wanted to kill her? Did he give off that impression? Or maybe Oros thought that of everyone? He had to admit, things would be so much simpler without her around. Saner.

Masato jerked away from the girl. The spear was held away from her, and his surprise quickly turned to ire.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" He all but hissed. He did sort of know what was wrong with her, she had gone crazy. He still thought that bringing her along and giving the others a break from her might do some good, but he wished he'd talked to Maeda beforehand.

"I'm not just going to randomly kill you without a reason! Fuck. Haven't we lost enough people?" He was glaring now. "Cut the crap and just focus on what we came out here to do."

Masato pointed in the direction that he'd seen the indentations in the grass. As long as Oros wasn't a major hindrance, he thought he should be able to follow its trail. "We're going after this animal. Don't mess it up." Begrudgingly, he added, "So come on."

Maybe he should hope for another big thing to strike her and reset her personality again.

______________________________________________________________________
_@Nakushita

Hi There.

Welcome!!

World of Light

Word Count: 700 (+1 exp)
Level: 5 - Total EXP: 173/50
Location: Dystopiascape - Midgar

In the morning Pit was wide awake as soon as he'd opened his eyes, and when he arrived at the meeting room he was bright eyed and bushy tailed. After everything that had happened yesterday, the prospect of facing down Arahabaki's security and then its Guardian seemed almost a simple task. The crew they had were all smart, strong, and reliable. He was sure they were going to succeed. And as for himself? He was ready.

After greetings and breakfast, both of which Pit readily took part in, there was a debrief and some news. He gave his attention to Sandalphon, and when she brought up some images Pit blinked. Those were the same things they'd seen while fighting the machines! And also...

"They're the same kind that were around that big spider clock, I think." He remembered that the clock had been glowing with the same kind of blue energy as the bug-like drones. So they were harvesting... something, and bringing it back to the clock? Life essence or something else vital for living. That didn't bode well. Worse still, that machine army they'd faced down seemed to have recovered - and they were on the move. Even Pit quickly realized that there couldn't have been a worse timing for an invasion, when they'd dismantled many of Midgar's defense organizations.

The question of what do with that information was asked and answered in quick succession. Pit's first thoughts were to postpone their raid on Arahabaki. They couldn't just leave the citizens at the machine's mercy after all, right? It was then that a stranger appeared with a different opinion: to stay the course.

Right, 'cause once we beat the thing everyone in the area will be free, the angel reminded himself. Hopefully they'll stop fighting each other and start trying to solve the whole Ever Crisis thing!

Midna even pointed out that they might be able to make use of the guardian's power if they had to. It might be too much to ask that this "Nox" would have a change of heart once the anti-mind control wave washed over the area, but Pit could hope.

"So we've got a time limit. Break in, get to the boss, and beat it in before the machines get there? Timed missions are such a pain!" he said. Then he smiled reassuringly at the people gathered. "But we've got this!"

The angel wasted no time in getting through the portal with Midna, pausing only briefly at Roxas' declaration. The thought of staying behind to hear some of the answers the other boy wanted didn't even cross his mind - and he trusted Roxas would come with them whether he got them or not. So in he went, and suddenly he was back in the humid, giant computer. It was the same as it had been last night, save for the cameras all pointed their way and an alarm ringing out through the area.

"Busted already!" Oh well, Pit was pretty much an expert at fighting his way through an area. In fact an assault like this was pretty much his specialty! The angel bounced from one foot to the other, energized, while the Seekers finished assembling. It wouldn't be too much longer now. In the mean time, Pit glanced at Karin.

"It's gotta be easier than it sounds! The whole fixing "cosmic disorder" thing - it happens so often that it has to have some quick fix," he said. Not to mention there was a least one kind, good goddess out there that would be willing to help. No need to leave the mortals to fend for themselves.

And then Midna was through with shuttling the last of the Seekers in. Everyone was here - and it was go time. Pit dashed toward the target: the teleporter. It was small enough that by the time everyone got close they'd closed into a single file line. Though Pit had no idea where exactly it would lead to, he was sure that battle was in their future. It would be weird if this place didn't have any guards alerted by the alarm and on their way. He summoned the Palutena Bow to his hand while he leapt through.

What Are You Listening To?

hi hi!! <3

Welcome to RPG!

Expedition to Isekai

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Not all of the students attended Endo's funeral. That was fine; Masato felt no need to force them. The service was for those that needed it. To grieve, to bring some semblance of normalcy back to their lives with a familiar ritual, to accept their friend was dead. In a weird way, Masato needed it too. He hadn't seen Higasa die nor had he seen the boy's body, or what had been left of it, and Okumura had ultimately survived. Watching Endo's corpse be lowered into the earth made everything a lot more real.

Throughout most of the service, Masato was silent and still. He watched with a stoic expression, just tracking everything with his eyes. Masato was far from coming to terms with everything, but with everything that had happened he was trying to at least stay grounded. He was still upset about the last night, but was doing a remarkable job of not showing it. And in regards to the scene in front of him, the only thing that he could really feel was... disappointment.

When it was over, he helped to fill the grave in. He hadn't had any words for Endo, and it felt weird to be burying his body, but the sooner it was done the sooner...

His brain rattled to a stop even as his body kept moving, pushing dirt into the hole. The sooner they could what? Get on with their lives? What a callous thought. But it was exactly where his thought process had been going. It was necessary.

After the hole was filled, Masato gave Endo's friends a wide berth. He went a little ways along the lake's edge to clean the dirt off of his hands and wash his face. And to think.

When his stomach pulled tightly he returned to the campsite. It was time to get started on item number four.

"I need at least one volunteer," he announced, his voice still reigned in and neutral. "We're going to find and bring back as much food as possible. And kill anything we see, if we can."

The volunteer was mostly so that if something happened to him, they could go back and inform everyone what had happened. Fighting, searching, and hauling he could handle all himself - but it would be nice to have an extra pair of hands for the last part at least.

SPIRITUM

Z Bennett

_{W A R D E N}

---

Lance Bennett

20 | 5'11" (180cm) | O+ | WARDEN 3^rd CLASS

_{A P P E R A N C E}

---

Lance had been a skinny kid when he was first enrolled. It was hard to put on the muscle that training as a WARDEN demanded, but within the last decade he had managed it. Now he is compactly built, hard muscle everywhere with virtually no excess fat. Even with the nicks and scars carved into his body from training and scraps, he takes pride in his physique as the proof of all of his hard work. He keeps as fit as possible, especially because he is prone to illness. It didn't used to be that way - somewhere along the line he got sick and stayed sick, always running some kind of low level fever if his skin was anything to go by. It's both a warm tan complexion and warm to the touch. Nothing serious though, as he'd say.

Because he is rarely out of uniform, he doesn't put much thought into what he wears during his down time. Most of his clothes are gifts or hand-me-downs anyway. It is quite funny to see him mix some garment a more fashion forward friend gave to him with the most worn out piece of clothing the world has ever seen. He basically just wears whatever makes him happy or catches his interest. He is most commonly seen with his trademark scarf, embroidered with the initials Z.B.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

---

Loyalty is the basis of Lance's personality. He was raised believing how important it was to obey one's parents, their superiors, and their God. The thought of betraying someone's trust doesn't even cross his mind, and on the rare chance he does it the guilt eats away at him until he usually ends up confessing. Because of this, Lance makes for a good friend and is very easy to get along with. He's always willing to lend a hand, hear someone out, or join in on a fun time.

He's fine with banter and can take a good ribbing. He tries not to let anything bother him, keeping strong both for himself and others. He doesn't often talk about his family, and though some jabs at his character hurt more than others he is quick to forgive... if not forget. His emotions are easy to read on his face, he definitely wears his heart on his sleeve. When he's in a good mood he loves to share it, but when he's feeling down or conflicted, he deflects.

Lance has come to be known as hard working and reliable. Someone who always puts others before himself. The kind of person you can lean on if you need to, very literally; he's lent his shoulder for people to cry on and bodily dragged fellow drunken WARDENs back to the barracks plenty of times. He isn't touchy per se, but he appreciates a friendly touch and will happily reciprocate whether its a hug or one of his squadmates dragging him to the sparring ring to kick his ass again.

Perhaps not so surprisingly given his upbringing, but he is quite chaste. He travels to one of the Citadel's cathedrals once a week, head down, intense, introspective and quietly talking with himself. This is a routine he takes very seriously. Sometimes he struggles with his own identity, although this is a side of himself he would be mortified to let anyone else in on. He especially doesn't want anyone to find out just how afraid he is of being deployed for real.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

---

The Bennett family have a proud history. Rassvet natives dedicated to service - even before the Rassvet-Vangar Conflict began. Sons and daughters of the lineage had always been devout members of the Order of the Dawn, inquisitors from a long line of inquisitors. The current family patriarch, Jophiel Bennett, had been one of a handful of prolific High Inquisitors in Fazra before being forced to retire due to a leg injury. He and his wife Miranda returned to Rassvet to the Bennett estate, in the pretty fishing village of Sheldock on the coast, where they raised their four sons.

The eldest son Michael was put on a high pedestal, groomed to be the next Bennett inquisitor before he could even talk which kept him from WARDEN life. The second son Lance however was sure to be scooped up by the WARDENs as soon as he was of age to be tested given his innate capabilities. This too was a source of pride for the family. The youngest son Laramie would eventually go on to show a sense for magic unlike any other. The only anomaly was the middle son Zadkiel, who seemed to have inherited none of the prestige of the family name and had little to no aptitude for magic. It was normal for talent to skip a child or two, so while Zak did not receive any of the special training or attention of his father, he was treated with love all the same.

A few weeks after Lance's tenth birthday, he was selected to join WARDEN just as many predicted. The boy was excited, looking forward to it. In celebration, the boy's father let the eldest three brothers take their boat out for some quality time together before they split up - as Michael would soon be leaving as well, traveling to Fazra to complete his initiation into the Order. Lunches and fishing poles packed, the day was a blur of warmth and happiness. It was on their way back that tragedy struck. As dusk was settling over the water, one of the boys rocked the boat a little too hard, or shoved each other just a little too roughly, and Lance was thrown overboard. Given that the family was well accustomed to the water, the remaining brothers waited for Lance to come back up. He never did. Frantically, Michael and Zak dove in to try and find him, but the waters were dark by then. It was late into the night when they gave up, unable to locate their brother. Explaining what happened to their father was most frightening thing the boys had ever done.

Jophiel was a stern, proud man who took his and his family's image very seriously. He was unwilling to admit that Lance, WARDEN hopeful and prodigal son, had died on his watch; not to himself or anyone else. He couldn't face that shame and disappointment.

What followed was a devious scheme un-befitting a Dawn inquisitor. One of his sons had drowned that day, but it wasn't Lance - it was Zadkiel. That's what he convinced the world of. Lance and Zadkiel were close in age, Zak only one year younger, and with the same red hair and tanned skin they were commonly confused with each other. If one hadn't been treated so much more handsomely than the other, they could have been twins. Zadkiel was not on board for this plan, but as a child there was not much he could do. He was pressed into obedience and sworn to silence. The Bennett family mourned "Zadkiel" for a little while, and prepared "Lance" to be sent to the Citadel.

After the WARDENs came to collect him, they were suspicious of "Lance's" sudden drop in aptitude. The lie was maintained with the explanation that his grief over his brother was deeply affecting him. This was true, as the boy barely had time to process everything that had happened to himself and his brother. He never would have made the cut for WARDEN under normal circumstances, so the training was absolutely grueling. Over time it got harder and harder to make up excuses, so the only thing "Lance" could do was train harder and harder. He gained a reputation as a workhorse, and though he was consistently in the lowest percentile of his class, he managed to remain "WARDEN material."

The first few years he hated every minute of it, but the crushing guilt he would feel if he deserted stopped him from doing so. The only people who knew the truth of his situation were himself, his father, and his older brother. Aggressive gaslighting on Jophiel's part managed to convince even his mother that he was, and had always been, Lance. The family never spoke of the incident, so their youngest son grew up never knowing there had been a fourth brother at all. If he left service, it would completely destroy his relationship with his family. If he confessed the truth, it would stain the family's image. More than that though, if he refused to carry this name then Lance would really be gone forever.

So he swallowed his grief, his discomfort, everything that told him this was wrong. He suffered the brutal lifestyle of future WARDENs, endured the ridicule of better trainees, learned to live with the mistburn and tried not to develop an abusive habit with the burn reducing drugs. As a kid he'd hated his old fashioned, traditional name, but while lying awake after training he would give nearly anything to hear someone call him by it.

When graduation came, he'd had to scurry off and find somewhere private to let himself be emotional. The certificate said Lance Bennett, like he knew it would. It had "his" birth date. The real Lance would have been twenty now, while the young man holding the paper was nineteen. Staring at the certificate brought about such a weird, volatile mix of emotions. He was bitter, he was proud. He had nearly burnt a hole through the thing before someone came to find him.

He is glad for the road trip, jumping at the chance to join. He hopes to use it to sort out all his feelings before deployment. If nothing else he is determined to stay alive during the conflict so he can finally come clean after serving his term, put Lance to rest and die as his own man - hopefully far into the future.

_{C O M B A T}

---

Combat Class:
Vanguard, situational Ranger

Combat Style:
It was a common joke around the barracks that there should be a WARDEN 4^th class solely so that Lance could occupy it. That fact is that Lance is never the best person in the squad at any given thing; he is far from a fighting prodigy and could never cut it as a mage. What he does have are his eyes, his body, tenacity, and the drive to protect himself and others.

In melee he relies on his strength more than anything, having honed himself over the last decade into a human-spear to drive wedges between enemy formations. He is usually first into combat for that reason, to create an opening for others to capitalize on. Like every other WARDEN he is proficient with many kinds of weapons, but he prefers pikes and a trusty sword most of all... when he's not using firearms that is, which he quite good with. Though Lance is no slouch with melee weaponry (a decade of training will make sure of that), he is much better with a rifle or handgun - especially high-precision, long-range rifles. Despite that, he is relegated to the front line because his difficulties with sensing and channeling the Mist make it difficult for him to operate as a true independent ranger. Give him a spotter or a partner though, and he makes an efficient and deadly sniper.

Magic was never Lance's strong suit. His affinity with the Mist is very low, and he suffers from mistburn so often it might as well be constant. To both cover up his symptoms and make himself seem at least a little competent, Lance focused on learning a simple kind of magic and learning it well: elemental control over fire. Needless to say using magic is a last resort for him in combat. His "signature" spell is the halo of flames, a ring of fire summoned above or around him that flings embers outward from it.

Finally, over his WARDEN uniform he wears a light armor modeled after the likes of the Order of the Dawn's inquisitors but bearing the Bennett family crest. It's imbued with blessings and isn't hard to move around in at all. At one point he hated the armor, but after several cuts and scratches and a friendly paint job, he came to like it well enough; it does give him a little more protection after all.

_{R E L A T I O N S H I P S}

---

Specifically, your character's general impressions/relationships with other player characters. This section can stay blank until characters have been accepted.

SPIRITUM

@Yankee the unfortunate son returns. Are the party aware of his true identity, or is he still Lance to them? Surely nothing bad can happen from fraudulently entering the wrong son into the state super-soldier program. Accepted!

@vietmyke

This time he is still Lance to the party, for now at least!

test ☄ res 𒀱

Color Test
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Color Test

Wardens first draft

A S H R A F
A S H R A F

^{“Remember me! The man whose resolve burns hotter than the desert!”}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ As the oldest child in his family, Ashraf In'nalai has certain responsibilities he must take on. Upholding the reputation of his clan of artisans and minor merchants is one such responsibility, which he feels he is already in danger of failing. Two years ago, Ashraf failed his trial to become an initiate warden. Now he returns to Atutania to correct that embarrassment, success the only option in his mind. Age: 18 Race: Human Nationality: Hahral Weapon of Choice: Spear and Javelin Elemental Affinity: Fire Spiritual Affinity: Light ♫ ♪

C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ On the eve of his sixteenth birthday, Ashraf made the journey across the Sands of Hahral to the city of Atutania with ambitions to become a Warden of the Glade. He traveled with food, clothes, and a sword he was good enough to use for self defense. What he did not bring with him was any desire to protect the realm or its citizens, his goal driven only by self interest. Maybe that was the reason he failed his trial, miserably so. Beaten and humiliated, Ashraf returned home to Akoth where his family welcomed him with open arms. Somehow it was that which hurt the most, finding that the only person disappointed in him was himself. The only reason Ashraf had ventured out to become a knight in the first place was to gain some status on behalf of the In'nalai. They were an old family in the Triumvirate, one of skilled glass makers and blowers who had practiced their trade since before Akoth's establishment. They had always been a small family, both in size and influence, forced to get into the mercantile business in order not to be taken advantage of by larger, wealthier clans. Ashraf would eventually take over as head of the family, and though he was one of the most talented in it at their artisanal craft, he was inept at the business side of affairs for the most part. He learned much better with his hands, rather than through lecture or literature, and unfortunately economics was not something he could hold. Seeing as his father was still hale and had quite a few more years left in him until retirement, Ashraf conceived of a plan to strengthen the family's standing when he inevitably took over even if his mercantile skills weren't up to snuff: a career as one of the realm's knights. It would offer the In'nalai many advantages: prove the next head of the clan a man of valor and strength, instill the thought that the family was skilled not just in their trade but in battle as well, and gain the prestige of the wardens to make any unscrupulous merchant or noble thing twice before messing with them. Not to mention that during the time Ashraf planned to spend in knighthood, his father could use 'to teach his younger sisters the business side of things instead of wasting time trying to instill it in his dense son' (Ashraf's words). Having vowed to return to the wardens and get them to recognize him, Ashraf poured all his time and effort into improving himself. His martial arts training was intense but necessary, though putting himself into the mindset of a protector was still hard for him. Over the years he worked, taking his goal much more seriously this time, and whenever he needed to cool down from warden training he threw himself into the heat of the family's glass furnace. At eighteen he felt he was ready to try again, and once more set foot on the road from Akoth to Atutania. C H A R A C T E R I Z A T I O N C H A R A C T E R I Z A T I O N ________________________________________________________________________________________ Artistic ⬗ Focused ⬗ Passionate ⬗ Prideful ⬗ Responsible ⬗ Unforgiving A B I L I T I E S A B I L I T I E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ Already familiar with the length and heft of a blowpipe, Ashraf swapped out his sword for a spear and never looked back. Though he found himself no good in the Hahral tradition of archery, he did have good aim in general, and when combined with his excellent hand eye coordination throwing said spear was something he excelled at. Even if not the most physically imposing man, Ashraf's training as honed his body in strength and flexibility, and his trade made him adaptable. Now he is fairly adept with using a spear and javelin, though it must be said he's never had to actually use it in a fight with serious consequence. He has high heat tolerance, high lung capacity, and a strong work ethic. He is also very good with his hands. Writing, drawing, whittling, and other such hobbies are within his means to master. And of course he is a master at blowing and shaping glass for both practical and artistic uses. He is a tactile learner and can quickly pick up almost anything one needs dexterity for. His mother often said that he had some kind of eidetic memory, only with his hands instead of his eyes. As of now, he has not awakened to his magical abilities.

---

Hider

Farmer M

A A R O N
A A R O N

^{“I just think it's kind of sad to give up on something that can be saved with a little hard work.”}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ At twenty-two years old, Aaron Miller is the second of two twins - younger by three minutes. And yes, their parents thought it was cheeky to call them the same name. Though an extrovert at heart, Aaron is the more reserved of the two siblings. He is protective, values hard work, and has a lame sense of humor. Together, he and his sister live and work on one of the only farms left in Starlight Cove.

C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ In its heyday, the Starlight Mill Farm was a large producer of food for the island's residents. Part sprawling farm and part robust ranch, its fresh local fruits, vegetables, and animal products found their way into restaurants and businesses around the island. Abundant harvests also yielded enough that the family that owned it could even export some produce for extra cash, though they preferred to keep things local so the islanders didn't have to rely much on mainland imports. Unfortunately, the above hasn't been the case in a long time. Nowadays even the property's namesake - the "Miller's Mill" - has broken down and remains in disrepair. It started with in the twins' grandparents' time; the land began to lose something, something vital, and the once flourishing fields started to decline. Over years the crop yields grew smaller and smaller until some just stopped growing altogether. The animals were affected too, the quality of milk and eggs suffering as they became lethargic. Was it a coincidence that the vitality of the farm lessened when the population of Starlight Cove really began seeing changes as more and more people left permanently for the mainland? No one can say for sure, but the superstitious say that the land itself has lost its luster, its magic, all over the island. If that was really the case, then of course the people that depended the most on that land experienced the 'curse' firsthand. The Miller twins don't believe in curses though. As the current generation residents and managers of Starlight Mill Farm, they stubbornly work their literally un-yielding land with the hope they can restore it to some of its former glory.

---

"Aaron."
"Erin."

Farmer F

E R I N
E R I N

^{“We're only able to grow wheat right now... eheh... but just watch, soon these fields will be bursting with color!”}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ At twenty-two years old, Erin Miller is the first of two twins - older by three minutes. And yes, their parents thought it was cheeky to call them the same name. Erin is a go-getter willing to try anything to get the fields on the island growing again, including investing in so-called "lost magics." She is proud and has a slightly mischievous side. Together, she and her brother live and work on one of the only farms left in Starlight Cove.

C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ The Miller family has been in Starlight Cove for as long as anyone can remember. They allegedly arrived from the mainland generations ago with only a few seeds and a few cattle, and after settling managed to turn the small farmstead start into a successful - even profitable - farm and ranch. Their namesake, a stone windmill, sat on a hill nearing the property's edge. Anyone visiting the farm would be able to see the large spinning sails from any corner. It's a shame the twins can't get anyone out to fix it in the current generation, as it now stands as a monument to just how far the farm has fallen. When Erin's parents all but gave up on the farm and planned their move to the mainland a couple years ago, she refused to go with them. And if Erin was staying, then needless to say her brother was too; the twins had always stuck together and had no plans to separate any time soon. Heated discussions turned into arguments, but in the end, the family split up. With a couple of jobs lined up through friends and connections, their parents headed into the city across the water... and the twins were allowed to stubbornly stay behind. The farm wasn't worth much in its current state, and since they wouldn't make much money selling it remains in the family's possession, technically still in their father's name. Though repeated failures hit them harder and harder each year, the twins remain optimistic that they can turn things around. They'll joke about it, smile and blame things on each others' black thumbs, but its clear in the smudges on their faces and dirt under their nails how hard they're working to restore some 'magic' to the area through the food they plan to grow. So far the only crop that's managed to survive is hardy winter wheat, and the only livestock that remain are a few chickens and one aging cow.

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Hider

T H E W A L T E R S F A M I L Y
T H E W A L T E R S F A M I L Y

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"A quote or something about the family. Replace the image with a picture of their house or something appropriate to the family's theme."

_{[ ❇ ] B R I E F F A M I L Y H I S T O R Y}

The Walters are New Hampshire natives, and they've been living together in Huddeen for about the last ten years. They live in one of two houses are the very end of Mulberry Street, where the pavement turns to dirt driveways. The property itself includes a swatch of land of about a mile, only minimally developed. Since Charles purchased it as a young man, he has refused to sell any portion back to the city for further development. The man himself used to be a regular voice heard at town hall meetings, but has since been replaced by his daughter who has become a nightmare at the local PTA. Historically they haven't been a particularly outgoing family, but they are decent people with a mixed reputation among their neighbors.

_{[ ❇ ] F A M I L Y M E M B E R S}

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W A L T E R S, C H A R L E S || P A T R I A R C H - 82 W A L T E R S, C H A R L E S || P A T R I A R C H - 82 _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Charles grew up in Rockingham County, where he met and married his highschool sweetheart Magdalene. Their romance was put on hold when Charles was drafted for the Vietnam War, then a man in his early twenties. Reuniting after three tours of duty, the couple was eager to settle down and both pooled their money together to purchase land in their home state. Charles has lived there ever since, even after Magdalene passed away 42 happy years later. During that time, Charles found employment as a carpenter, and he spent most of his free time renovating the old home they'd bought and clearing out some of the property. He built the barn with plans to possibly buy some livestock and a pony for the daughter they ended up having, but ultimately never had more than a few chickens. After hitting seventy years, his age finally seemed to be catching up with him. Actually I think I fucked up my math with the ages lol uuuuh.... ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "A quote." ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

W A L T E R S, D E B R A || H E A D O F H O U S E - 41 W A L T E R S, D E B R A || H E A D O F H O U S E - 41 _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ A paragraph or two of characterization goes here, briefly touching on their personality, background, etc. Add more or remove tables as needed.▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ Use as many or few of the above symbols as needed to balance this cell with the cell containing the image.

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "The one... er, two and only - JW2!" ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

W A L T E R S - S M I T H, J O H N || O N L Y S O N - 16 W A L T E R S - S M I T H, J O H N || O N L Y S O N - 16 _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ A paragraph or two of characterization goes here, briefly touching on their personality, background, etc. Add more or remove tables as needed. Honestly, he doesn't miss his dad all that much. And considering if his mom and dad had married his name probably would have ended up literally just being "John Smith," he feels like he's dodged a bullet.▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ Use as many or few of the above symbols as needed to balance this cell with the cell containing the image.

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▅ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "So nice we'll say it twice. JW2!" ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

W I L L I A M S, J O R D A N || F A M I L Y F R I E N D - 16 W I L L I A M S, J O R D A N || F A M I L Y F R I E N D - 16 _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The Williams family lives at the end of Mulberry Street - directly across from the Walters family. Originally from Boston, Massachusetts, they moved to Huddeen seven years ago looking for a fresh start somewhere. Nowhere was fresher than some nice countryside. Jordan initially hated the move, upset about moving away from the city and his friends. He didn't like how rural Huddeen was in comparison, but eventually he got used to it seeing as he wasn't going to be able to convince his parents to move back. Even years later he still doesn't love the town, but at least it wasn't all bad. He grew to appreciate some parts of it. He and John met in school before they realized they were neighbors, and after they started to become friends their mothers did too. The two of them got to the point that they spent almost every day together as kids, and as teenagers they still hang out almost all of the time. Now Jordan considers John his best friend, and Ms. Walters like an aunt. Jordan was staying with the Walters' when the outbreak started. His mother and father had driven to Boston a few days before to attend a time share presentation, and catch up with some family in the area at the same time. No one has heard back from them since they left. ▅