P-Jay

Luster's hoof would immediately break through the bow of the ship, with no dramatic consequences whatsoever. Her foot, invisible within the ship, would for a moment, start to feel a...Well, she would--if she were organic--feel a shifting sensation. As if sand were trickling into her, between the chinks, between the joints... Firebeak himself remained silent, within the ship.

He growled, when it did minimal damage, and she sprouted how much it would take to properly cause an injury, and went on to ridicule him. Although, to his mind, he registered only one thing. A necessity for 29,000 pounds of force. As she pulled the triggers, oddly enough, her semi-automatic rifle didn't fire--only a single round shot, which scraped past his cheek. In her little speech, he had ejected the ammo clip, and slid it away in his pocket for future use. The shotgun was evaded by a quick flip into the air, landing a ways from her. "...Future of warfare, huh?" He raised his head, to blatantly laugh at her. "You're a piece of metal...That relies on what ponies have apparently created, inventions so simple that a hatchling could figure out how it works, so long as it's demonstrated a few times. You pull triggers, and use your shelling as armor to block attacks. But here's the thing...Those are nothing new." "You're nothing more then a cheap knock-off, of what already exists." His gaze drifted to the post, in the middle of the ship. At the railings. At the floor wood... He took a swig of the mystery liquid. Rose a claw, and smashed the floor under him--dumping him into the dark cellar of the ship, where he could presumingly begin to hide...

its about... lemme put it this way. an original character, is something you invest time and effort, into making it glorious. and a gender, matters in the long run, about as much as the color scheme, backstory, or personality. a character is a work of art--so why limit your creativity to one gender? there's no real reason why i play as female characters, other then a character was needed to add an ingredient to a story, and that character just so happened to be a female. it opens a world of possibility, of new personalities, and backstories. because look at it this way... as a writer, if you were to write a story, would it really be only males, without a female in sight?

Firebeak had braced a metal-coated claw, and attacked at the swinging sword, with next to no regard for his health. When Luster attacked, the rusted, era-old blade broke on contact, sending a few shards flying away... But his other claw snaked outwards, to catch a piece of the blade, gripping it, and stabbing downwards with it...Aiming for a [racism 3], in her exoskeleton. With his power, and speed almost doubled, it should be an attack next to impossible to read... But then again, y'know, robots.

Gene had backed off from the lab, ever so slightly, when the trainers started to walk out. Watching them seemingly compare their newly acquired pokemon, talking amongst eachother, introducing eachother. He felt oddly left out--which was a first, for him. After all, he was never bothered about not being part of the group, why would that change now? Regardless, he decided on letting his Rattata out from it's pokeball, having his small companion bounce onto his shoulder, approaching the group. "Hi-ho! Veterans or rookies?" He asked casually, when he was within earshot.

Gene exhaled. For the last few years since he started his pokemon journey, he had dedicated most--if not all--of his time, to bonding with his pokemon and traveling the land. From Jhoto, he had traveled to Kanto, and through Hoenn, Shinnoh, Unova, Kalos...He'd experienced so many things--and seen so much more. But, upon arriving in this new region, he wondered if this would be the place he would actually find friends. A word here, or a helping hand there, just wasn't enough for him to call another 'friend', from the other regions he had visited. Walking around the city he had stumbled into, he wondered if this was the place people would begin their own journeys. Looking up and down the streets, walking past a building numerous people were entering, and--wait, why were they all going in? Was there an event? He peeked through a window, blinking in surprise at the numerous trainers filling out forms. Realization struck, upon locating the professor, at the end of the floor, reading over a few forms. He took a mental note of the people within, and wondered exactly how experienced they were--although, if they were being given their first pokemon, probably not very much so. He decided he'd wait outside, to see if any of them walking through would need help. After all, that would be quite the way to achieve a friend.

Caliber blinked, at the news. A storm, from the east? Normally, he would dismiss this, because a storm is naught but a storm, but...The way Naga looked as if he were desperate to warn him of something, the way he almost seemed wary of an approaching threat, made him hesitate. Was the storm a metaphor, for something? "Woah, calm down there bud," he said, taking a step back from the monk, "lets try this again. Storm...High winds...East. What's it mean?" Firebeak continued writhering, as the resounding bangs were heard, the bullets approaching him...But at the last moment, his head shot up, and snapped his head to look directly at Luster. His eyes clearer. And much more alert... His wings flexed, and streaked to the side, rapidly making his way closer to Luster, flanking her...

Firebeak had retreated once more, into the sky, to hide behind the sails, moving this way and that, to further conceal where he was. This thing wasn't ordinary. It wasn't even alive. He growled, hearing the buckshot continue to fire, tearing apart his ship, feeling whatever emotion he still had start to boil. The feeling rose, inflating in his chest, before he exhaled...And curiously enough, it was pure steam. He felt his decayed, broken down body start to repair itself...Painfully so. Enough to make him drop, from his hiding spot, and land against the ground with a thud, withering in pain... ...Luster would see that it wasn't because of her own attacks.

Firebeak snarled, feeling his sword begin to be pulled towards Luster with an increasing intensity. It just wouldn't let up, even as he tried to make more distance. Even though his distance from the shotgun made it's birdshot increasingly hard to hit him, it still didn't give him the luck of the devil. Various pellets made their mark, sinking into his skin, and muscle. Although, the general nature of birdshot was to kill, well, birds. Granted, it had wide range, but it was weak--so much so that Firebeak barely felt them sink into his skin. He stared at her, starting to be pulled towards the robot at this point. And although his guns had started to be dragged towards her, as well, it was mainly his sword that had the strongest pull. Angling it, he let go, aiming to let it sail as fast as a bullet itself, accelerating...Right towards her left eye. Even as she began to deal with that, he wouldn't let this be his only attack. Withdrawing one of his flintlock pistols, he aimed it at her other eye, firing with startling accuracy, the iron bullet speeding faster then it usually would. Aimed for her right eye.

Flugel looked up. "Leave? Probably a good idea...You got any bodyguards with you, right now?" He asked, pocketing the notes. He'll start to put the wanted posters up in the sword and gun shops soon enough... Firebeak's sword, for an alarming second, didn't stop. Sheer strength and momentum triumphed over magnetic repulsion, but only just barely, as the blade nicked the surface of her head. Enough to cause bleeding, but then again, robots didn't exactly have blood, so at the least it should hurt. ...Robots don't feel pain either, but whatever. After the minuscule blow was struck, he used the repulsion to help himself bounce away, in a ready position. The look in his eyes betrayed strategic thinking. Obviously, he was running through various plans to take her down...

It was revealed, that he was indeed alive--but not in a valid way. His soul was dead, yet his body lived on. And it was soon to be known, that Firebeak was no stranger to combat. Screeching to a halt, once she aimed her gun, he flapped his wings to assist with a jump overhead. Once again, rather then using his wings for flight, he was using them to boost the speed of his movements. Although, a stray piece of the birdshot did indeed embed itself in his leg, it hardly seemed to even register to him. Bringing the sword down, after a few spins in the air, with full intent to cleave Luster's head open...

@Denim&Venom In a moment, his wings were spread, and it was revealed they were abnormally large. How they nestled against his back without trouble for him was a mystery, as with a single mighty flap, a gust of wind blew across the Arena. The Arena, which had long since morphed to be what looked like a broken, withered ship's deck. "No...You're not." He flapped once more, and was immediately streaking towards her, his sword swishing to the ready. Apparently, his flapping was propelling himself forward even faster then he could've attained, on his limbs alone. "I am never...Going back there." He growled, aiming a horizontal strike as he came within reach...

@Denim&Venom The griffon, who looked barely even alive, crawled with injuries that already speckled his body. His trench coat, dotted with holes, tears, and what looked like burn marks. Although, one could see a few holsters at his sides, filled with flit-lock pistols. A jug of...something was attached, at his back. But the most defining feature was either his hat, which bore no embalm, or his sword, at his side. He shifted, to face Luster, two dead eyes staring at her from under the shadow of the brim of his hat. He cocked his head, and spoke, in a voice impossibly raspy...Almost as if he had a lasting injury to the throat impeding his speech. "...Where...Am I?" He asked, his wary gaze flickering to the guns Luster held. One of his claws itched towards a gun of his own... "I remember...My ship, sinkin'...My crew, rebellin'..." His wings flexed, the unpruned feathers shivering, with rage "...And then an eternity in a cage. Rottin', decayin', wishin' for anything else then that hell..." He took a single step. "...Was it you who put me in there?" A scroll would be summoned, in front of Luster, in a rather neat handwriting. Though, it was obviously rushed...

Meanwhile, in an open area directly below the main Arena, a band of magi looked up, from around a circle, chattering to themselves. "I sent the email." "Ready?" "Not really." "That's the spirit." "Is this really safe? I mean, Tartarus is supposed to stay, well, sealed." "It's not like we're releasing something like Tirek. Or...The King." One of them shivered. "The 5th Circle is still no laughing matter. Remember when we first opened the 1st Circle, and released the Morphic Plague? This is way beyond that." "Listen, we're only pulling one out at a time. Then we'll send him right back in. Easy. Done. We've done worse, after all, we're the tamers of Cerberus." "...If this goes wrong, let it be known that this was Cyndia's idea." The other three nodded their heads in agreement. One of them turned her hooves upwards. "Fine, I'll take the heat if something goes wrong. Let's just summon him already." They nodded, and began to channel their magic into the circle, which started to glow in response. Drifting up from the ground, it split into five rings, each swirling with increasing intensity, before being sent up a hole in the room, out into the Arena. From within the circles, a portal appeared...And something fell out, landing in a heap, on the ground. The orange-and-red griffon looked around, before slowly reaching for his hat, to put on...A shadow settled over his horribly scarred face. He grinned, the crack in his beak widening sickeningly. Firebeak had been summoned to the Arena. Now all that was left was for Luster to make an appearance, so that the match can start...

Flugel kept silent through her speech. Nodding once, twice, once she finished. He looked almost bored, as if he heard things like this on a daily basis... "So a classic hit-and-run. Gotcha." He muttered, scribbling down a few notes. Looking back at her, with a gaze that would rival a hawk's, he asked another question. "But I don't care what he did. Do you have any useful information that might lead to his capture? I need to know if he was with someone, and if this really took place in the lobby, I'm gonna have to go check the security cameras there...Maybe I'll see if he came there with someone. Also, you said he had a sword and gun, right? I'll need to start watching places that sell--or repair--weapons of that nature."

Zenru drank from his cup, and set it down. "Well. That could be taken in a multitude of ways. Intimidation, threatening, laws..." He smiled. "Although I was always a personal fan of the option to try and make your enemies into friends. Not only do you not have to worry about them...But you gain an ally, as well. But we've talked enough, if I don't hurry, I'll miss my patrol. I wish you the best of luck, in this situation." He dipped his head, turning to stride out. A few words were heard spoken outside, and a few minutes later, a griffon walked in, looking at her. He had a white and gold color scheme, with a scar running across his cheek. Curiously enough, only one wing, as well... "..." He cleared his throat. "...I'm Flugel. Can you tell me about the incident?"

Zenru, as asexual, and humble as he was, picked up on none of the signs. At best, she came off as one with good manners. Rather then responding with words of comfort, he drank a cup of tea himself, and pulled a cape from a hanger, to fasten it around his shoulders. Obviously, he was getting ready for a patrol, or something of similar nature. He took a deep breath, and flashed a smile--as warm as a naive child's--at her. "By the way...Do you happen to know the absolute best way to deal with a threat, or enemy, even if it's not always guaranteed, ma'am?" He asked, setting his empty cup down, to begin moving slowly towards the door...

He smiled again. "Thank you for your patience, ma'am...I will assign..." He took out a small notepad, flipping it once, twice, murmuring to himself. "...Does..." He frowned. "I can move Velma's case...And maybe change his..." He cast her a grin. "Okay, I can assign you Flugel. He's a griffon, and rather trained in combat, so he very well might double as a bodyguard. Does that sound good?"

He nodded, once she finished. "...While I understand your obvious concern for your safety, and...Obvious desire for this 'Raze' to be put in prison, I must say one thing in return..." He stood up, walking with a spring in his step, to the drawers. Opening the bottom one, he pulled out a thick sum of folders, bringing them back to the desk. Each one was at least ten pages thick... "...I'm afraid catching Raze can't be a top priority. I can assign one of my detectives, on your case, provided you--and all witnesses, including this Sunset--are willing to sit and be given an interview of all the information you hold. But it may be some time, yet. Even now, he may be escaping Bangcolt..." "After a folder for his case is put together, I'll be sure to share it with the other Captains, of as many cities as I can reach. But even still, I do recommend hiring guards. All of mine are on these individual cases...And even I, myself am currently working on a disappearance." He made a pained smile. Obviously, he felt rather...Uneasy, due to the fact that he could barely spare one detective. Truth be told, he wasn't solving just one--he was working on a multitude. And although he was making progress on each, it still drained his rest time, and personal time... "Tea, before I go? And are you willing to accept a detective, to work on this case?"

Inside, was a navy blue pegasus, sporting a blue-and-red mane, neatly combed to one side. He wore dashing armor, that covered his chest, and most of his legs. A helmet laid on the desk, amongst the paperwork. Two sheathed blades leaned against the desk... He looked tired. But still managed a wide, friendly smile once the baroness walked in. "...Why, hello! May I ask what grounds you decided to come speak to me?" He asked, in a light-hearted, casual tone. But still conveyed formality, through the easygoing voice. "And please--do try to make it quick. Although, you aren't required to. I just have...A rather lot to do."

Rye casually walked around the lake, obviously at ease. Looking this way and that--he was obviously searching for the kitten he had mentioned. "Lets see...Can likes mice...And mice are typically found in area like...This!" He ventured into the Thunderclan territory, praising his cleverness... --- Meanwhile, Can would be derping around on the opposite side of the lake, wandering around in Windclan territory. Poor Rye. --- Redear hadn't been present for the Clan Meeting--although, she still heard who was going, and what Silverstar was going to propose. "...Asking for more territory? As if the other Clans will accept her demands..." She muttered to herself, counting her stores of herbs for the umpteenth time today.

Caliber walked through the city, absentmindedly, pondering through what had happened. Sure, he had won quite a few matches--but they were mostly combatants that weren't exactly...'On his level.' Only a few he took seriously. And the few he did--he lost against. Sleight, Lektra, Orion...Well, maybe not Lektra, but it certainly felt like a loss. He always got excited, when time came for him to do battle against someone who was as skilled as he was. But lately, he was beginning to think that maybe, he was just mediocre...? ... No. Even if he was, he wouldn't accept it. He would train, until he was certain he was rising to the top. His spirit would become as unbreakable as his sword, his skill, just as sharp. He had a fire, and damn if he wasn't going to kindle it! Kindle, with every emotion he had at his disposal--ambition, rage, frustration, joy, until it burned with the same intensity as a raging storm. With that mental vow being declared in his mind, he turned, from his aimless wandering, to begin marching towards the Training Arena. That bot is never going to know what hit him-- "--Huh?" He frowned, hearing the distant call for his name. Recognizing it was Naga's, and realizing--with a pang of guilt--that he hadn't attempted to connect with his friend once, since he arrived in Bangcolt. He decided on calling back out to him. "Naga, right here!!" _________________________________________ Hiero stepped out from the building, into the cool afternoon air. Wondering to himself, if every pony in this city was quite as powerful as that Ironblade mare, as he walked out into the streets. She rather reminded him of Abel's fighting style. He smiled to himself, recalling the earth pony he had called a friend for so long. ...But that was the past. And dwelling on it could prove fatal. ... '...I think I'll go into the tavern.' He thought to himself, beginning to move towards the building that somehow seemed brighter then the others. Gently making his way past the doors, he sat down at the counter, noting how almost everyone else in the room looked just as shady as he did. Cloaks, and sheathed weapons decorated the room...Typical.

Hiero nodded, satisfied. Letting loose a long, drawn out sigh, bending down to pick up the blade Iron kicked over to him. "You've fought well, youngling, I've met nary a few of the same caliber..." "I would've gone on, as I'm sure you know, but I was looking for a simple duel. A spar. Not a fight..." He straightened up, beginning to walk towards one side of the mountaintop. "And like I said, you have potential to be so much greater...I suggest looking for one, to nurture that fire you have. Before it goes out..." He stopped at the edge. The Arena shimmered, into it's usual appearance, the howling winds dying almost immediately. He opened the door, directly in front of him. "...Perhaps it'll be me, perhaps it'd be someone else. Or maybe, no-one..."

Hiero smiled, as she started to set down his weapon. "Thank you, youngling, I was afraid for a moment, you wouldn't pause the figh--" His eyes flashed, at the sparks. His hoof flew to his sheathed blade's hilt once more... ... It was fast. Faster then one could've believed. Easily his most potent move yet, as the blade was unsheathed, revealing a blade that seemed to radiate sheer unknown power. Hiero parried the blade--be it a simple illusion to prove one's opportunity to end a fight, or a fully manifested spell intent to maim--with Selene. Curiously enough, it was less of a parry, more absorption. As Selene began to touch the outer edges of Iron's spell, it seemed to melt away, into the edge of the blade. But then again, this was for the sharpest of eyes, as the attack only flashed for a moment, before Selene was once again sheathed at his side. Though if that weren't noticeable, the look in Hiero's eyes were. Purely focused, purely alert, it showcased centuries of battle experience...And the will to kill, when necessary. This look, too, went away as fast as Selene did. "...Well...Iron, I was going to ask for this match to be over, before that...Attack..." He stated in a quiet voice, after the action had been done. "...Will you accept my forfeit?"