Th-thump...thump thump thump thump...thump.

Aralon had never felt so naked in her life. For the first time in years, her feet touched real soil, real grass with her exposed toes; she felt every squelch as she stepped into opaque, muddied ponds formed by the accumulated dew, every gust of wind over her exposed neck and legs, caressing the marble-pale, stifled skin.

She was learning how to breathe fresh air again. Air without ash, without plagues. Without filters.

She registered, in her flight towards the artificial sun, the scent of flowers, the first she had ever smelled. Bulgy, knotted roots threatened to trip her, but she embraced the rough bark as a guide to the next leap, the next step. Her soles blistered and cried tears of painful joy; they had never enjoyed something without padding.

Her gelatinous friend was keeping her broken left arm in place. By allowing it to be enveloped in the goo, nothing like mud would contaminate it. Still, the bone jutting out was nevertheless an unnerving sight to see. Could it even be fixed at this point?

Aralon shuddered at the thought.

And so she ran and ran, her lungs never to tire, her legs the complete opposite. Finally, she saw ponds, broken frameworks...this was the place she had last been to before her capture.

Oh, how sweet were those bipedal figures, devoid of fur. Their eyes glowing just like hers...

~~~

To the other returning Knights, they'd see a young lady dressed in an oversized sweater, that of which was torn here and there to expose her incision-ladened midriff of pale marble. She was scratched all over; little rivulets dripped and mingled with her sweat, staining her toned thighs and calves with splashes of scarlet. Her black hair, slightly frayed more than it usually was, clinged to her tired face as half-drooped eyes with pink irises scanned her surroundings.

Aralon was not alone, however. There was this green mass enveloping her left arm, not a burned body like Serah. In her right hand, she was holding a hammer reaching just over her height. Wherever she had gone, it was not a pleasant trip, considering what kind of a mess she looked like.

Slowly, she tugged the sweater's hem a bit, covering her nude lower half. She lacked even her suit, the suit most all Isorans wore to support the armory on top. What exactly happened when she was gone?

A rustle could be heard from a nearby bush at the camp. Soon after, a knight came out the bush. Anya had somehow been separated from the rest of the knights, and had her microphone on her helmet broken rendering her incapable of talking to the others over voice coms. The knight, with a nearly broken helmet and scratched face, looked around camp for Cherub of whom she knew was in charge. She eventually found Cherub, but other knights were talking with him. The unfamiliar face decided to wait for her turn to speak, and as she did so, she brushed some of her long ice blue hair to the side, and checked on her weaponry. She peered at her not one- but two bombs.

A starpod rolled down the road on four hastily-added wheels, going at a slow enough pace for a Knight to walk alongside it.

Ragnir let out a long sigh of relief at finally finding something resembling civilization. "Whew! You're a lifesaver, sis!"

"Hey, don't thank me, thank those map programs."

"No, no, don't sell yourself short!" Ragnir had tried to mount a rescue mission of Serah, but he was driven back by a whole bunch of those... dog turrets. There were simply too many to break through. Rega, his younger sister and a noncombatant, had hooked up the public Starpod's very limited comms network to an archive containing some DIY guides that allowed the two of them to jury-rig the barely-flightworthy Starpod as a makeshift tank.

Since then, they'd been trudging across this strange planet toward a large concentration of knights. The Starpod couldn't go too fast because the wheels couldn't handle high speed. Ragnir had to walk outside for half the journey to protect the tank from attack by robot zombies and... what was that one thing? Some kind of snowball devil?

Ragnir was cold and exhausted, and frankly, he was happy to see warm fires and actual sleeping bags. And so, he stumbled into camp, ignored everything, spotted an empty sleeping bag, fell down on top of it, and-

"Ragnir. That's an officer's sleeping bag." Rega had parked the Starpod tank, and was already walking about.

"...blaaah." Ragnir climbed to his feet. "Excuse me, gentlemen. Could any of you kindly point me to a place to lie down?"

"I'm willing to go now, if you need me Cherub." She said, looking eager to fight with no sign of sleepiness on her face as she started to juggle her two bombs. "I can always say hello to the knights later, but fighting usually doesn't wait." she said with a smirk on her face.

Reaching into his pack after the medic had left him alone at the fire, Amaria pulled out a flask, from the look and sound it had barely been touched from the time it had been filled. Taking the screw-top off he slowly brought it to his lips, the smell of the fine whisky seemed to burn the Swordsmen's nose a little, but at least it was better then the now staled tea.

Slowly the liquid burned a trail down his throat, past the lungs, making a rather harsh hit to his gut as the liquid seemed to give him a little more vigor. Sadly enough he wasn't a drinker and even taking a small sip like that was enough to make him feel a little light headed, then again the feeling of the warmth radiating outward was nice.

Reaching into the back once more he pulled out the supplies he had stocked for the trip. From the left to right he had a E.M.R.K (Emergency Medical Response Kit) filled with enough medical supplies to patch himself up, a sharping stone for his sword, tea leaf's and seeds, his thermos, three throwing knifes, a field utensil kit, and flint and steel. Basic stuff outside of his armor and weapons. Most of the items in question where more fitted to a emergency response, like some one in mortal danger or having an extended stay in a harsh environment. Though this might qualify as an emergency.

Tucking all but the tea leafs away, and his cooking utensil's, Amaria went about making a pot of tea. If anything it would help calm his nerves from the stress of the day.

Welp. Here's my Knight.

NAME: Rufure (Pronounced “Reflet” with the silent T.)

GENDER: Male.

EYES: Normal Eyes.

HEIGHT: Normal.

COLOR: Turquoise.

HELMET: Elemental Hood. (3 STAR)
ACCESORY: Prismatic Glow Eyes.

ARMOR: Elemental Cloak. (3 STAR)
ACCESORY: Prismatic Canteen (FOR WATER), Toasty Vitakit (FOR HEALING), DUSKY ANKLE BOOSTERS. (FOR BETTER DASHING)

SWORDS: Calibur (2 STAR), Iceburst Brandish. (3 STAR) (MAIN SWORD)

HANDGUN: Elemental Blaster. (3 STAR) (MAIN GUN)

SHIELD: Swiftstrike Buckler (3 STAR) (MAIN SHIELD)

HOW Rufure USES HIS WEAPONS:

1. Rufure pushes/throws his enemy to fall on his/her/it’s back, jumps on them, and stabs their back. If his enemy falls on his/her/it’s stomach instead, he’ll jump on them, stab their gut, and twist his blade around.

2. Rufure pushes/throws his enemy to fall on his/her/it’s back/stomach and shoot them to death while they’re still on the ground.

3. If Rufure locks swords with his enemy, he’ll kick them in the gut, and quickly slash downward at their head.

PERSONALITY: Cheerful, willing to help others, but sometimes, very stubborn.

A hooded knight walks into camp, holding his bleeding left arm that has been bitten by an Alpha Wolver. He starts looking for the person in charge of the Rescue Camp.

Taking the E.M.R.K in hand Amaria, in silent, walked in the direction of the knight. With no expression and his helm tucked under his left arm, the E.M.R.K in his right hand, the Swordsmen found himself before the shouting man. If impressions where anything then they might know the Iron Wolver armor, a sign of what he use to do for the Order back on there home planet.

A long bloody path leaving behind only the bodies of the slayed Morai high ranked officers and officials. Still even with this the Swordsmen presented himself before the hollering knight, ready to preform Emergency medical application. Going so far as the swat one of the medic's away from his E.M.R.K on his way to the yelling person.

If they need morphine then who ever this man is asking for help must be in a lot of pain. I will be the judge of that I guess. Better then sitting here and drinking away the memories of horrible swordsmen-ship and old lives.

(Right, thanks. I'll post my character's backstory there, then.
I'm not the best at making stories, so it might sound a little weird.
I RPed before, but I was never as good as the pros. I just used simple language, while they used super fancy and long stories. :P)

A hooded knight walks into Rescue Camp while holding his bleeding right arm. "Engh... Finally here... I can finally rest..." He walks over to a bench that's next to the campfire and sits down, waiting for a medic to come over and fix him up.

Nodding Amaria walked in the direction he was told of till he found the Knight in question currently being taken care of another. Placing the E.M.R.K away he waited in silence to see what would happen. Of course his hands loose and right hand resting on the hilt of his curved blade, to which rested across his back belt held by two straps. He was many things, but a fool he was not, for he knew from his many times in battle and outside of it. This was the perfect time to strike.

It seemed his time with the Wolf's unit has indeed taken its toll on his mind, but never his steady hand. Nodding at Aralon, the Swordsmen waited in for his time to administrate field medical treatment. Despite not being a doctor it was part of the Wolf unit's core to know basic and minor advanced healing for First Aid on the field. If needed he could pass for a seasoned field medic.

Woman got a good friendly visit with the enemy from the look of it. Damn, kinda feel bad for her. Still, just a runt compared to the Morai legions. I have a feeling her lack of respect for a blade caused this, fools.

Walking in front of Ragnir, holding his hand up in the air to silence him for a moment. The Swordsmen simply turned his head in a 'no' fashion to silence him. It was best to give the injured person time to heal instead of taking there energy away to talk. Reaching to his side he tossed his thermos to the man offering the soldier a drink to calm his nerves. It wasn't his flask which would have indeed taken the edge off, but tea instead.

Keeping his right hand on his blade at all times Amaria walked back to his spot waiting to take over should this Kora person need assistance. It wasn't the place of an Iron Wolf Unit to take over if the person is qualified to administrate aid.

Looking at Ragnir he tapped the side of his helm, noting at the comlink he just installed. He then made a finger gesture in the number's; 3 4 8 . 1 8 4. Tuning his own comm. unit into the same frequency he waited. Even though they where in a good, 'safe', place the Swordsmen never once gave up the old creed of making sure its secure before speaking.

The fight and flee was harsh, but hardly incapacitated Mundy and Chael from fighting. Arriving at the rescue camp, he realized how many other knights didnt share that stance. Finnaly settling down, the first thing Mundy did was get all that survival trash off his back, and into the Camp's depot.

Mundy Vakarian
Day 00002

-Location: Planet Cradle. Surface. Emergencial Spiral Order Camp (Rescue Camp)
-Chron. Landmarks: Nightfall. Will assume it's actualy nightfall and not an hologram of it, considering the amount of levels I had to go up to get here.
Approximately 1.6 days after Skylark escape.
-Condition: Nominal, but tired.

Seeing how my last entry ended, I'd consider taking this chance to un-say what I stated back then, but after waves of furred beasts and coloidal monstrosities, I'll have to keep true to what I mentioned. This Camp is in no way reinforced enough to handle half of what I saw while running to here. The wounded and supplies arent standing in metal plating, and could be attacked by these ground-burling... Wolvers. Not enough cover to funnel the Wolvers themselves, actualy.

Enough about my worries. Personal supplies reassingned to depot, that stupid Vitapod detached and given to the medical team. Geological and structural scans organized, native alien goop sent to medical as well. Speaking of goop, one of my "team", Aralon, came back with a severely broken arm and a jelly creature helping her, must keep an eye out for that. Armor repaired as much as possible, most robes got torn apart. Traded fabric remains from suit for a semi-destroyed Jelly Helm from another knight, will find a way to integrate jelly materials to armor later. Looking foward to that, as I will have an easier time getting stung by spike showers. Ate something, likely Wolver meat that a pair of strikers brought with them, tasted great.
But not a goddamn officer to report to.

Getting out of the tent he was in, Mundy looked around for Chael and soon found him trying to eat Aralon's alien friend, while some other familiar knight talked to her about her escape.

"Ragnir, Aralon, good to see you two still alive." he said while approaching slowly. The last time they were together he was carrying a load of ordinances, but now he was just his binoculars, Blaster, Magnus and armor. Without the Intel tubes on his back, his wings were openly visible, even with Mundy pulling them back as much as possible.
Looking at the Iron Wolf knight standing close to the group, Mundy tipped his Cap, or what was left of it, to the unknown.
"Swordsman."
Vakarian pulled Chael off the ground to give Aralon more breathing space.
"So, any word of the rest of our team? Also, where's Cherub?"

Aralon muttered a "Yeah," with solemn softness, before gripping the hammer in her hand.

"I picked this up while escaping. Any idea what's it made out of?" she asks Kora, before rubbing at her shoulder. "A-and there's a wound on my shoulder too? I only noticed my arm..."

Chael got bumped to the ground. Still not quite there yet. Noises were just a mere hum right now, still better than his sleep walking (I guess). The knight gazed at the sky, it was like a painting– even though every sky known in this planet is a painting. It is a bit calm in his realm of dreams. Imagine a fluffy cloud sofa, with your favorite music on, and a grand art at your front? Nice isn't it?

The knight stood up, holding a hand in his forehead. He grunts, and could feel a minor pain in said location. Eyes widening in realizing the fact he isn't where he used to be. "I did that again didn't I?" He scraped some dust from his armor, his face is starting to warm up as he noticed the jelly like substance on his hand.

With heads down he equiped his helm back on. "Oh.. The gang is here. Pardon... whatever I just did." He checked all his bombs.

Oh good, I did not just murder the entire camp with bombs

"Err... not sure. I don't think I had any drinks, execpt that slime you mentioned." Chael pointed at the 'alien' with his thumb. "Well, we got medics sure. But to know of any changes inside my disgestive system we need some equipment. Which we lack. No symtomps means no sickness.. right?" He laughed it off as he scrathes his head.

"Oh! Hey! Remember the pill earlier? Do we still have those at stock?" He snaped a finger. However thingking back, the medics would not bother using primitive method (( I mentioned primitive since we have energy revival ))and got their hands full. Still, somebody might forget that they have one, or at least he wished they had.

"Compleatly out of topic here, but does anybody know their way among chemistry? I have some ideas but not the advanced. You know, wanting these to go-" Chael lifted a poison vial and a fire vial, and gestured a blow "Don't wanna injure someone on the feild with it."

Riddled with bullet holes, fiddled with many a slashes, and diddled with parts of her interior showing, Skyla dragged her feet forward, towards the Rescue Camp. One of her arms was hanging limp, imaginably by a few wires. Scrap parts taken from the Clockworks covered up some of the gaps; mainly to have the materials examined, with less weak spots as a bonus.
The Gremlin helm Lyra had stolen, (Along with most of the rest of the gremlin gear) hung loosely in Skyla's good hand, with a Flare stuck in it.
Slowly, at a steady pace, Skyla continued to trudge toward the camp.

"Mundy!" Ragnir nodded toward Mundy. "Glad to have you back with-"

Ragnir stopped when Mundy pointed his blaster at the construct. "Another one?! All right, I'm gonna- Oh, wait! Skyla! Good to see ya back." Ragnir grinned. "That map came at the perfect time. I was able to find my way back!"

Ragnir nodded to the rest of the team. "Right. I'd chat a little longer, but my eyes are startin' to get heavy. I think I'd better go lie down. Know where I can find a spare sleeping bag?"

"By the Pods, where theyre trying to make a campfire."
Ragnir went on his way, and two seconds later Skyla just fell flat on the floor. She seemed to have deactivated.
Mundy pointed his Blaster at her again.
"What the?" the knight froze, keeping all of his focus on Skyla's carcass
Last time someone fell down uncouncious after arriving from peril, he had a bomb rigged on him....
And with that trought in his head, he was stuck in this awnkward silence for a few moments.

"C-chael, see if she has a bomb in her. Quickly."

Upon opening the back, and quite loudly, at that, Chael could see no bombs.
...However, there was an out of place looking part jury rigged on. It looked like Isoran tech, but nevertheless simply looked... Different.
Unlike everything else, the connections weren't as solid and perfect looking.
What was it?
-
OOC: to prevent thin from ninja'ing the answer... It's Lyra; AKA the other sentient program that has insane bloodlust for gremlins, and luckily not so much for knights.

With a small nod to the group Amaria kept his comlink on, heading to a small fire near the permeter of the camp. He was in a since a sort of recon unit after all, made since he would keep watch for the night.

Taking his spot after navigating his way to a group of people who seemed intent on doing the same the swordsmen sat down looking at the rather heavy cuff on his right wrist, his personal way of keeping himself slow for others advantage. Sure it was a silly thing to do and it might lead to countless injuries along the way, but if thats what had to be done to keep himself in check then that's what he planned on doing.

Laying his right arm on his lap the Swordsmen started to fiddle with the seals in place to keep it locked to his arm. Well here we are, my families lovely little secret. Still trying to do whats right while not getting killed in the process. Still this isn't as bad as the time I had to kill the Morai high-command. Can't believe I made it out alive, let alone missed all most all of them.

Looking up at the sky the Iron Wolf unit crossed his legs and placed his arms into his lap, slowly nodding off the sleep in an alert state, almost a light sleep.

Maybe my dreams will offer escape from my madness...or maybe not...

Aralon patted Pektin's head softly, and sighed as she leaned on him.

"...not all of us are the same, or ever were. Just...most people with like minds came here. We left our families far away..."

She slid an arm around the goop's circumference, and leaned on it further. Her eyelids became droopy, and her breathing less ragged. She was tired, to say the least.

"...every person here is greater than the sum of our old parts. For that, I am glad. We soiled our planet long enough; the other race will either clean up our mistakes, or make them worse. It's no concern of mine. But here...I just hope this hostility isn't a permanent thing."