Ninjas of Love

Team BECK

The four sat around a tree stump, surrounded by swathes of luscious, dew-encrusted strands of emerald grass with the brown, wrinkly trunks of trees dotted around like stubble on a teenage boy's face. They counted amongst their ranks:

Billy Dalton, a young, immature hunter who wields a high calibre handgun-katana that he christened Geoff, and has a semblance of strength, allowing him to lift damn near anything on this forsaken earth.

Emmie Kostov, slightly younger, but so much more of a consummate professional (if you don't count the emotional instability and puerility), who wields Electro Velvet- a compact shotgun that converts into a battle axe. Her semblance is Sharing, allowing her to gain the semblance of whomever she touches, with a limit of only one being stored at any time.

Charlie Copson, the de facto leader of the group due to his cool head and tactical approach to battle, as opposed to Billy's and Emmie's all-guns-blazing lunacy. He carries throwing knives that comprise a quarterstaff and a crossbow. His semblance is Targeting, allowing him to directly control the trajectory of his knives, which he happened to call the Kevlar Daggers.

Kerian Furry, who exists somewhat to make up the numbers of Team BECK (pronounced Beckon), wields a Scottish Claymore that doubles up as a sniper rifle (he had named this weapon Tartan Mortality), allowing him to be deadly at close range and from a distance, as well as with the ladies. He has a semblance of Luck, which can help him get out of a sticky situation, with a slight chance of a backfire.

They all looked at their weapons simultaneously, as if the author planned it, before looking at each others' to check out their allies' gear.

"So.... where do we go from here?" enquired Kerian listlessly, his entire body burning like the sun in the middle of July after the hike the team had undertaken. BECK could not believe their luck as, against all likelihood, they had been accepted into the Vale-hosted Vytal Festival as the lone representatives of an academy on Patch they had fabricated to get in to the festival.

"Sorry, Kerian, I'm not too sure of directions from the metaphysical Ipseity Academy." Emmie answered his question sarcastically, with a twinge of dry frustration following her distinct Eastern European accent (this had a habit of causing her to not be understood by many she crossed in everyday life).

Charlie paused fiddling with his Kevlar Daggers and appeared deep in thought, before jumping to his feet with great agility and starting to babble indeterminately. "What?" Billy grunted indignantly, his weapon laying perfectly across his lap. "Did none of you bring your scrolls?" Charlie asked the ragtag band of brothers (and one sister), his voice smacking of desperation and thinly veiled anger. "Well... duh." Emmie retorted, whilst Kerian and Billy simultaneously facepalmed at the way in which their good friend had just blown the team leader's gasket with quite such ease. "Then why, oh why, did none of you utter imbeciles even think that- just potentially- it might be of some bloody benefit to us as a group and, as an extension, the entire Vytal Festival, for one of us to use our scroll to find Vale and reach where we need to be?" Charlie ranted, his face turning a deep shade of scarlet.

The rest of the team stood up, tails tucked firmly between proverbial legs, and opened their scrolls. Emmie's mind started to drift as the map opened up, a deep drive to compete in the Festival's world-renowned tournament filling her with each step. She opened up her journal, and noted down inside just how desperate she was not to win the tournament, but just to have a go, to be something for once.